Carolyn J. Rose
When I gaze at the hundreds of plastic bottles of
water in convenience store coolers, I can almost hear my grandparents
exclaiming with a mix of disbelief, dismay, and even disgust.
These were people who came through the Great
Depression with tight budgets and tightened belts. They repaired and
recycled, made their clothing last or made it into quilts or rag rugs. They
planted gardens and preserved food, kept cows and raised chickens for Sunday
dinners. They drank water from mountain springs and carried it with them in
jugs and canteens.
I doubt they could have imagined that one day people would shell out for water shipped from Iceland or remote islands, from mountaintops or beneath volcanoes, from mineral springs or glacial streams.
If I could go back in time and tell them about the
trends to come, I bet they’d laugh and ask who the heck would be crazy enough to
pay hard-earned money for those things. They might mention—as they
often did—that I shouldn’t let my imagination run away with me. They
might even ask whether people in the future would pay for jeans
riddled with holes or shoes that cost more than a thousand dollars. And if I
told them that would happen, they’d again exclaim with disbelief, dismay, and
even disgust.
On the other hand, if I could go back and explain
about phones without cords, electric cars, solar power, portable computers, or
letters you could write and send with a tap of a button, I think they’d see the
value.
But would they “get” designer water?
Nope.
