BUSH TO MEET MOM WHO LOST CHILD TO DRUGS

A week before Thanksgiving in 1999, two police officers knocked on Kate
Patton's door and changed her life forever.

Kelley, her 23-year-old daughter, was dead. Dead after overdosing on
Ecstasy, a drug Patton didn't even know existed.

That experience spurred her to take action, she said Saturday, so "someone
will wake up and realize it could be them."

And now President Bush wants to hear what Patton has done. The Rolling
Meadows resident is meeting the president today during his visit to
Chicago, where he's speaking about welfare and education and stumping for
Attorney General Jim Ryan, the Republican candidate for governor.

Patton started a foundation in Kelley's honor, helped pass "Kelley's Law,"
which stiffened the penalties for possession of Ecstasy and other "club
drugs" in Illinois, and she sits on Rep. Mark Kirk's (R-Ill.) drug task force.

She speaks to school groups and parents two or three times a week--her next
visit is to Glenbrook South High School on Saturday.

She wants to load up families with information. She hopes to get parents
and kids talking.

"Kids are misinformed," said Patton, a chatty mom whose eyes still well
with tears when she talks about Kelley, "and parents aren't informed at all."

She knows because she used to be one of them. Kelley used drugs before her
overdose, but Patton didn't push, asking her about it only once.

"Our talk lasted all of a minute," Patton said. "I was so naive. . . . Now
I tell parents you have to become an information junkie.

"We don't give them keys to a car without making sure they can drive, but
we send them into a world with drugs and we don't tell them anything about it."

Patton knows she's making an impact. "I have plenty of hard days when I
think I can't do this," she said. "But, and I know it sounds trite, I can't
help Kelley and if I can help others, I will."

Recently, a high school student sent an e-mail saying she had been thinking
about going back on Ecstasy, but swore off it after Patton's talk. "It took
your tragedy to beat some sense into me," wrote the girl, one of many who
e-mail or write Patton.

Patton has a harder time with parents, who rarely come to hear her speak.
She thinks they think their families are immune.

"Ecstasy chose me. I didn't choose it," Patton said, fighting back tears.
"I tell parents to learn from me. I knew nothing. But these drugs don't
discriminate."