A Drug Problem
The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse 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?''
I replied: I had a drug problem when I was young:
I was drug to church on Sunday morning.
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 flowerbeds and cockleburs out of dad's field. 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; and, if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she 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, 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.
—anonymous
I replied: I had a drug problem when I was young:
I was drug to church on Sunday morning.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 flowerbeds and cockleburs out of dad's field. 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; and, if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she 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, 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.
—anonymous
posted by King of Peace @ Thursday, November 16, 2006
3 Comments:
At 11/16/2006 9:42 AM,
Anonymous said…
Amen
At 11/16/2006 6:09 PM,
CS said…
Oh, no. The drug problem is not related to not dragging our kids to the woodshed to beat them, or not dragging them to the sink to wash their mouths out with soap, or any of the other many humiliations that can be visited upon children by vicious parents. And I respond here with confidence because I know you to have a very different approach to child-rearing yourself. And without any of these practices, have raised a decent, thoughtful (and drug-free!) young woman. What if, instead, we offered children guidance and love?
"What is done to children, they will do to society." - Dr. Karl Menninger
"The birch is used only out of bad temper and weakness, for the birch is a servile punishment which degrades the soul even when it corrects, if indeed it corrects, for its usual effect is to harden." - Saint John Baptiste de La Salle, "On the Conduct of Christian Schools"
"Children ought to be led to honorable practices by means of encouragement and reasoning, and most certainly not by blows and ill treatment." - Plutarch
and of course,
"Whatever you have done to little children you have done to me!" - Jesus Christ
At 11/16/2006 8:12 PM,
Anonymous said…
I don't believe that anyone who knows me, my husband, or my parents would accuse any of us of being vicious. Viscous would be the LAST word used to describe my Dad. But I WAS held accountable for my behavior in ways I could understand. And yes, I will even admit that occasionally - not often, but occasionally - the quickest and most permanent way to my brain was through the seat of my pants. And, yes, I did occasionally need my willful little spirit quashed some.
And, No, I don't feel abused or mistreated. I feel like my parents loved me enough to do whatever it took to make sure I became an individual who understood right from wrong and consistently tried to choose right regardless of personal comfort.
You see, my parents never yelled or belittled me, called me names, or made accusations to me that they couldn't back up as true. In everything, I had guidance and love even when I got "drug to the woodshed" - which was always a last resort.
More important was the other "drug" lines from the piece. The ones that imply service to others. Those are the ones that teach real discipline. Those are the ones I am most grateful for receiving.
Post a Comment
<< Home