Water

We recently enjoyed an extended weekend visit to my mother, which also included a fun time at Fantasy Island with the lovely Madelyn Simone and her cousins. While at the homestead, I worried that there was a bit of a poltergeist spirit present, as we had some minor trouble with the normal operations of Mom’s house.

First to go was the remote control for the television. Changing the battery didn’t solve the problem, my usual response for anything vaguely electronic, so I was at a loss as to what to do. Thank goodness my brother knew where the instructions were and re-programmed it.

That same evening, the remote control for the garage door didn’t work, so I had to close it from inside the garage, head out the back door, and stumble through the side yard, potentially disturbing the monster dog at the neighbors. Would I live to see the sunrise so that we could get a new battery?

I’m glad to testify that I made it safely past the canine fiend, into the safety of the house and the familiarity of my childhood bed. But when I turned on the faucet in the morning, there was no water. Now what did I break? I was getting a bit paranoid about what I might touch next, until Larry noticed the city trucks at the end of the street. A water main break was the culprit, presenting us with the challenge of how to complete our morning ablutions prior to visiting the bustling farmer’s market. With only thirty-two ounces of bottled water in the house, we managed to brush our teeth, and my always-prepared mom had filled the coffeemaker to the brim before she went to bed, ready to be brewed by the first riser in the family (not me!). But no showers that morning, so I took a quick dip in the backyard pool to wash off the outer level of grit and grime associated with the previous day at the amusement park.

Upon our return from the market and the grocery store, with gallons of water in hand, the water main had been repaired and water was flowing from the faucets again. Hooray! Now I could get a real shower.

The irony of our short-term water loss was the pool in the backyard filled with water, and our proximity to the mighty Niagara River, within walking distance. Yet the truth of the words of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner remained: “Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”

What a First World perspective I have, whining over a small inconvenience. Yet as The Water Project reports, nearly one billion people in the developing world don't have access to clean, safe drinking water. The United Nations claims that “water use has been growing at more than twice the rate of population increase in the last century, and . . . an increasing number of regions are chronically short of water.”

One devastating water issue has been the prevalence of Guinea worm disease, a parasitic infection spread through the use of stagnant water. The Carter Center, led by former President Jimmy Carter and First Lady Rosalyn Carter, has worked diligently since 1986 to coordinate efforts to wipe out this ancient curse through teaching people in affected areas to filter all drinking water. Guinea worm infections have now been reduced by 99%, and are close to being eradicated.

As so often happens, once I focused on the concerns surrounding water, I couldn’t escape its voice. So as I viewed the Fragile Waters exhibit at the Massillon Museum, on display until mid-September, the delicate connection between water and life that my reading had revealed was visually confirmed. The 119 black and white photographs, created over the course of a century by Ansel Adams, Ernest Brooks II, and Dorothy Kerper Monnelly, speak to the crucial role that water plays for all life on planet Earth. Powerful images.

In his inaugural address in 1994, South African president Nelson Mandela said, “Let there be work, bread, water and salt for all.” I echo his words today, that the parched of our world might find sustenance in the simple gift of water, clean and safe.