A letter was printed in our church bulletin a few weeks ago, written by an unknown concerned citizen. Though I modified it slightly — it expresses the way we were raised in my family.

When asked if I ever had any drug problems growing up. “Well, sort of,” I replied.

I was drug to church on Sunday, I was drug to weddings, funerals and family reunions.

I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults or other children. I was drug to the “woodshed” when I disobeyed my parents or other family members, or brought home a bad report card from school.

If I spoke with disrespect or ill of a teacher or the preacher or if I didn’t put forth my best effort in everything asked of me, I was drug to the kitchen to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered profanity or talked back to anyone in authority. I was drug to neighbors to help out anyone who had no one to help with household chores.

These “drugs” are still in my soul and still affect my behavior to this day. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, heroin, pot or any other drug on the street today.

Now this may be classified as abuse to some when actually it’s being raised with respect, responsibility, strong family values, a strong work ethic, religion and love for the country that offers so much for you.

My family was close and though they have all passed, I love and miss them every day.

If more families had this kind of “drug” problem we had growing up, I believe America would be a much better place.

KATHERINE SHIPE

Old Lycoming Township

Submitted by mail