In case you missed it, everyone seems to be "going green" these days - a noble cause for people to want to save the planet and everything.
There are groups on campus like Geneseo Environmental Organization, and even a brand new residence hall set to open next fall devoted to sustaining the earth and her natural resources. That's all well and good, but I'd prefer it if these environmentally friendly hippies would stop harping on me for my use of bottled water.
"Listen kids," I'll say to my grandchildren as they sip out of their Nalgene bottles. "There was a time when all you had to do to drink water was shell out $1.50 and you got a plastic container with fresh, filtered water already in it!"
I'm not into the whole tap water thing. Who knows where that comes from? I'm content knowing that when I crack open a bottle of Poland Spring, the water I drink comes from the best water in Poland … or Maine … or Poland, Maine.
I recently wrote a paper examining my relationship with bottled water, and I honestly had no idea the hold it had on me. Of course there are those new-fangled Brita filters and all this other crazy technology that I can pay even more money for to make my otherwise questionable tap water clean, but why bother? I'll take that 24-pack of water bottles instead. The brand of water doesn't matter much. I'll drink Poland Spring, Dasani, Aquafina, but not Nestle. Anything but Nestle.
I'm not saying that I'm completely numb to helping the environment. After I finish the bottles I almost always recycle them … or at least let them collect in my recycle bin until they flow all over my floor and under my bed and start making friends with the dust bunnies. Recently I've actually saved the bottles and refilled them with a 1-gallon jug (of Poland Spring, that I purchased), just so that I have the same portable container of the .5-liter water bottle to tote around with me.
I've tried to make the switch to those "green" water bottles, really, I have. But it's just so hard when I see a case of water, standing at attention in the aisles of Walmart and Wegmans. They are the faithful little pre-packaged soldiers that contain the chemical compound to sustain my life. When I pass them by they morph into sad puppies at a pet store, their droopy eyes making me feel guilty for neglecting them.