On our first date, we went to a bookstore-slash-coffee-shop. I asked the young lovely if she wanted something to drink. She replied that she would like some water, please.
So, I found the coffee station, which featured a small pitcher of free tap water. I poured a Dixie cup full. I gave the water to her.
My date handled the tiny cup like I’d just presented her a container of warm sputum.
“What’s this?” Jamie said.
“Water.”
“Didn’t they have any bottles of water?”
“I think they sell bottles, yes.”
She glanced at the Barbie-sized cup in her hands. “Are plastic bottles against your religion?”
Shrug. “They’re expensive.”
“So it’s a moral issue?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say then?”
I smiled. “Would you like a bottle of water?”
“No,” she said.
“Let me get you a bottle of water.”
“No, thank you. Not if they’re ‘expensive.’ Heaven for-BID.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“No. Don’t bother. I don’t want a bottle of water. I couldn’t have you spending a whole DOLLAR on your date. That would be a bridge too far.”
Jamie tossed back the water like it was commercial-grade tequila. She slammed the empty cup on the table. “I’ll take another, Mister Rockefeller.”
And I knew I would marry her.
In my defense, this happened nearly a quarter century ago. Bottled water was still a relatively new thing to the American public. It was considered bougie, at the time. This was an era when bottled water was typically reserved for persons with a credit score of 780 or higher.
Moreover, when you came from the other side of the tracks, like me, you did not drink water from plasticized bottles. You drank water the way the Good Lord intended: from recycled jelly jars, or directly from the hosepipe.
For this reason, I was a late convert to the Bottled Water Party. It was the principle of the matter. Bottling water was unnatural. Water wasn’t supposed to be bottled and sold as a product. Water was one of God’s free resources. Like oxygen, sunlight, or Milwaukee’s Best.
It’s times like this that make me grateful my father died before the modern era arrived. Namely, because he would be rolling in his grave if he’d known they were packaging water and selling it.
Today, however, I drink bottled water all the time. I am compelled to because we are always on the road—my wife and I. These days I walk into a gas station, fork over nearly $5 for a large bottle of water, and that’s that. I don’t even think about it anymore.
It’s not special water, mind you. It doesn’t taste any different than normal water. In fact, this is evidently a major selling point for bottled water brands inasmuch as it states right on the bottle that it’s not special water. The label makes it sound like the bottling companies don’t “do” anything to their water. According to manufacturers, they simply walk down to a virgin babbling brook, usually a stream with a name like “Antler Creek,” “Serenity Falls,” or “Ebola Springs,” scoop up some water, and sell it for five big ones.
And we, the public, buy it. We all buy it. We don’t even bat an eye. It’s no big deal, purchasing water. We buy it by the palletful. It comes in different brands. It is sold under different names. The water even advertises different features such as added electrolytes, additional minerals, or alkalinity. But no matter how you gussy it up, it’s still just water.
But then, water is never “just water.” Water is everything. Water is arguably the only thing that matters in this world.
Your body is 60% water. Your organs are water. Your heart is 80% water. Your liver is 75%. Your brain, lungs, and kidneys are 85%. Even your bones are not completely dry, but are 31% water.
The Earth itself is 71% water. Trees are 50%. Grass and leaves are 80%. Flowers are 70%. Vegetables are 90 to 95% water. Even the microbial bacteria that cover every living thing on this planet, including our bodies, is made of 85% water. Even our air holds water.
In fact, it could be said that everything we consume, everything we touch, everything we breathe contains—more or less—water. Water envelops our entire being. You cannot escape water. The human body cannot survive 72 hours without water.
And yet, you are always losing hydration. Every exhalation you take, you lose water in the form of vapor. With every organ function, your body expels water. Every time you sweat, you relinquish your internal water supply. So this means we, as human beings, are always in water debt. We live in a constant deficit, always searching for water, just to survive.
Water is more than merely precious to our species. Water IS our species. Water is the essence of our very existence. Water is in every breath we take, every blink of our eyes, every thought from our brains, every beat of our hearts. Water is our whole world. Water is life.
Why do I bring all this up?
Because after 23 years, Jamie Dietrich is still my water.
Sean Dietrich is a columnist and novelist known for his commentary on life in the American South. He has authored nine books and is the creator of the “Sean of the South” blog and podcast.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
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