Water, Water, Everywhere

A comedian once described a meeting of foreign entrepreneurs that must have happened many years ago. These business types were talking about the gullibility of the American consumer as they discussed what they could get us to buy. A Frenchman named Perrier said, "You want to know how stupid I think ze Americans are?"

That was the punchline, but I don’t think many people would get it today. Long after Perrier was synonymous with popularizing bottled water in this country, there are more brands of bottled water than just about anything else in the supermarket. I was amazed to discover while grocery shopping with my wife this week that nearly the whole side of one aisle was stocked with something you get free out of your faucet.

Besides Perrier water from France, you can also get water from Italy, England, Scotland and New Zealand. Artesian spring water from the Fiji Islands is particularly en vogue now. I discovered steamed water designed especially for infants as well as fluoridated "water beverage" for older children. Calcium fortified, vitamin enhanced, carbon filtrated, ozonified, fruit flavored, carbonated, or cured by ultra-violet light. It’s all there for a price.

Not that I don't appreciate good old H20. Heck no! Canoeing in the wilds of Minnesota years back, my high school chum Bob and I became dehydrated when our canteens ran low. Then I remembered packing a couple plastic bags of ice in our coolers to keep our food from spoiling.

Sure enough, the ice had melted and I slaked my acrid thirst after first poking a hole in the plastic, promising Bob he could drink his fill from the other bag. Believe me, water never tasted so good. But when we opened the second cooler, we discovered that the second bag of ice had already developed a hole of its own. The water had leaked out into the cooler, becoming a muddy, silty mess.

Poor Bob. To this day, he bitterly remembers wanting to call for our rescue, or at least a parachute drop of a gallon or two of fresh water.

My son Scott, studying in Russia and living with a host family there certainly has a better appreciation for water now. The tap water in Volgograd is brown and undrinkable. Not only that but the apartment where he stays has been without hot water for going on two weeks. So his dirty clothes are piling up in the corner, much to the chagrin of his "Russian mother."

To make matters worse, a broken pipe in the neighborhood this past week meant NO water of any kind. In the middle of 100-degree heat. In a small two-bedroom apartment with Scott and his Russian family, and one bathroom. I don't even want to consider the implications of that.

Back at home, all our spoiled pooch Doogie has to do is to scratch at his empty water dish to get a fresh supply. Often I'll re-fill his dish singing, "Cool . . . clear . . . water." He responds by giving me a deadpan stare as if to say, "So what?"

If he only knew.