The other day, someone at a store in a small Midwestern town read that a methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farm house in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question, "Why didn't we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up? It just so happened that I had saved
something that had been sent to me a few weeks ago. So, I printed off a copy and took it to him the next day. I smiled when I handed it to him and said, "I did have a drug problem when I wuz a kid growing up on the farm in southeast Missouri or North Dakota or Nebraska or Kansas." Here's what the
sheet said:

I had a drug problem when I was young:

I was drug to church on Sunday morning.

I was drug to church for wedding 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 and
teachers.

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

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 might be a better place today.