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I Was Drugged

The other day I was talking to someone at a store in our town who
read that a Meth lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the
adjoining county and asked me a rhetorical question, “Why didn’t we
have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?”

I replied that I had a drug problem when I was young:

I was drug to church.

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 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 cussed.

I was drug out to pull weeds in mom’s garden and flower beds.

I was drug to the homes of neighbors to help mow the yard, repair
the clothesline, and if my mother had ever known that I took a
single dime as a tip for this kindness, my dad would have
drug me back to the woodshed.

Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in
everything I do, say, or think. They are stronger than cocaine,
crack, of heroin: and if today’s children had this kind of drug
problem, our society would be different.
7/24/'14
'54 reunion
June 16
July 3rd