I read in The Chronicle that a methamphetamine lab
had been found in an old farmhouse off U. S. Highway 12
and I asked myself a rhetorical question,
 
"Why didn't I have a drug problem when I was growing up?"
 
I answered my own question:
 
I did have a drug problem when I was young.
 
   I was drug to church for weddings and funerals.

I was drug to family reunions and
community socials no matter the weather.

I was drug by my ears when I was
disrespectful to adults.

 I was also drug to the woodshed
when I disobeyed my parents,
told a lie, brought home a bad report card,
did not speak with respect,
spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher,
or if I didn't put forth my best effort
in everything that was asked of me.

  I was drug to the kitchen sink
to have my mouth washed out with soap
if I uttered a profane four-letter word.

I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's
garden and flower beds
and cockleburs out of dad's fields.

I was drug to the homes of family, friends,
and neighbors to help out some poor soul
who had no one to mow the yard,
repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood. 

    Those drugs are still in my veins;
and they affect my behavior in everything
I do, say, and think.
They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin;
and, if today's children
had this kind of drug problem,
America would be a better place.

Written by:
Jim Shouse
Special thanks to Larry and Earlena Beden for prompting these comments.
as printed in The Chronicle (Centralia,WA), April 19, 2005.
Jim Shouse is a retired newspaperman and may be reached at: jimshouse4@msn.com
The above has been used with the author's kind permission.



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