FIGHTING THE WAR ON DRUGS DOWN A COUNTRY ROAD

On the eve of America's big birthday bash, we are reminded once again of
the insidious dangers inherent in a free society. Top government officials
have asked that we be especially vigilant at picnics and parades tomorrow
and through the weekend.

I am not blase about the likelihood of more terrorist acts in this country,
or the twisted logic that might drive terrorists to attempt to spoil
America's birthday party.

But, frankly, I worry more about dangers spawned at home than abroad.

As a resident of rural America, I know this troubling reality: The natural
landscapes that lure some of us to the freedom of open spaces, attract
others intent on abusing that freedom.

The live-and-let-live culture of rural places that tolerates racists, tax
scofflaws and rabid anti-government groups, now faces a new scourge - meth
labs.

The crisis of methamphetamine production and use is not unique to rural
communities, but as the urban centers more vigorously confront the problem,
it is spilling into the countryside.

Idaho's Bonner County, where I live, is 75 miles from Spokane. The county's
meth problem is "horrible," said Sheriff Phil Jarvis. "The more proficient
(the police) get in Spokane, the more problems we have here."

Meth is dangerous, potentially deadly stuff. The shooting a few days ago of
three King County police officers at a Maple Valley meth lab is a cruel
reminder of one of the hazards involving meth.

The dangers go beyond those faced by police. Addicted parents cooking up
supplies of meth routinely put their children at risk. Participants at a
meth summit early this year in Snohomish County were told that up to 65
percent of state Child and Protective Service cases involved parents
addicted to meth.

As meth use grows, so do other crimes. Spokane police blame the city's high
rate of auto thefts on meth use. In Snohomish County, officials say
two-thirds of all crimes are related to meth.

Meth labs themselves are dangerous and leave toxic chemicals that are often
disposed of in abandoned lots. Cleanup costs wind up on the taxpayer bill,
and can amount to several thousands of dollars per site.

Meth is easy to prepare and brutally addictive. Users have reported getting
hooked after one dose. Little wonder that use is rising.

Economic hard times only add to the meth problem, especially in rural areas
where jobs are scarce and incomes low. For the unemployed and ill-trained,
cooking and selling meth can be a desperate, if misguided, economic decision.

Lack of adequate law-enforcement personnel is a common refrain, whatever
the size of the community. But it's fair to say the scattering of meth labs
in remote wooded areas puts a particularly heavy burden on rural counties.

Bonner County, for example, has 28 officers and five investigators to cover
2,000 square miles, much of it wooded and laced with bumpy private roads
and dead-end lanes.

Jarvis, the local sheriff, says the federal government is no help on the
meth problem of rural areas. "They are committed to kilo count; they want
large-scale confiscation."

Meth cooks working in homemade labs way back in the woods are more likely
to be concocting the drug for personal use and for small-scale sale or
trade, not for the drug-trafficking organizations that are the focus of
federal enforcement efforts.

In the old days, before we were called to fight the war on terrorism,
America was said to be fighting a war on drugs.

Whatever happened to that war? Did we lose it or just stop fighting it?
Either way, the results are the same. More lives shattered, more
communities drained of resources.

America's real drug problem is not at our borders or in foreign countries;
it's in our homes and communities and, increasingly, at the end of a
country lane.