Farm Party

Since I rarely come out of my mushroom cave, I suppose everyone in the world has heard of a Farm Party. Ho Hum, I'm always the last to know.

It's Saturday again and my weekly conversation with my Granddaughter. Today she is working on the national program where people turn in their old prescription drugs.

She mentioned that kids have Farm parties. I thought. "Oh that's a nice rural thing to do."

But then she said, "That's spelled "Pharm" not "Farm"..... you know, from pharmaceutical. Each kid has to bring a bottle of prescription drugs and dump them into a big bowl to share with everyone."

Were my antiquated body cells shocked over this? No. I guess if kids are taught at home it's OK to take drugs, that's what they'll do. But what I am wondering is, at what point did kids begin to lose respect for their bodies.

I have a joking type personality. I worked my way through serious, found my soul and now I can laugh and concentrate on the humor in life. BUT I'm going to turn serious for the moment. Your soul, this beautiful nebulous thing that is your passkey for eternal life (or whatever spiritual belief you follow) lives inside of the skeletal mass of bones you call a body. When, in the past 50 years, have parents shed their responsibility of teaching their offspring the importance of keeping this temple pure? Instead, it appears that kids have been taught to give it no more respect than they would for a city dump.

Close your eyes for a moment and imagine the delicate tick tick of all your body organs when they are in sync with one another. If a little book of instructions (like the laundry care tag that comes inside of sweaters) came with each baby, it would say, "Caution, chemicals are harmful to this body." Kids have to be told they shouldn't take drugs. I remember a friend's little boy was a bed wetter. He stayed with another little kid one night and the mother told the boys good night and they shouldn't wet the bed. In the morning, the bed wetter hadn't wet the bed. The mother of the bed wetter was shocked and asked her son why he didn't wet the bed. He answered that no one had ever told him not to. In her permissive child rearing, she had forgotten to tell him that bed wetting wasn't the thing to do. This is a true story.

Some of you have kids, some of you don't, but they are the future of this country, of the world in fact and how do you feel about this drug problem that young kids have?

P.S. The old drawing above is the "Farm" where I grew up.