The other day, someone at the co-op 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, Milo?

It just so happened that I had saved something that had been e-mailed 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 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 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."