I do try, I really do, to avoid that old expression “when I was young….” Nobody really wants to know, and I know how I responded when someone started that speech – it’s usually a speech that’s coming . But exceptions must be made.
I don’t get the obsession many have nowadays with water. Having spent time out west this summer, I understand why some people may be obsessed with water; they don’t have enough. And from what I understand, we all need it. I guess I understand why the archeologist, or the tourist, hoofing around some desert somewhere, might attach a water bottle to her belt. But the person who climbs out of his car on the way to the mall with the purple polypropylene bottle in hand is simply showing off. You don’t think you can make it through Montgomery Mall without your trusty canteen? I love it when someone walks into Meeting for Worship bottle in hand; it gives me someone to (internally of course) make fun of for a while. Someday, somehow, we’ll all be stranded in the Meetinghouse for several hours, unable to get out; I’ll get my comeuppance on that day, I suppose. When that happens, you don’t need to share your water with me. I’ll understand.
I realize I am showing my age here. This is probably water you brought from home, filtered through one of those rocket ship shaped Britta things; “can’t trust Montgomery County to provide me with the good stuff,” you think. “And one does need to keep hydrated.” That’s how we speak today; we speak about “hydrating.” Little kids, the kindergarteners, they just want a drink. Me, I’m “hydrating.” One must, as I understand it, remain “hydrated.” Here we go again. It’s “use” versus “utilize” one more time; any old Puebloan or Bedouin can “take a drink;” me, I hydrate. And it might be rude to “take a drink” in the middle of a religious service – but I’m “hydrating.”
People can’t go 30 minutes without “hydrating?” You live in Montgomery County, for heaven’s sake. You’re probably never more than 50 steps from a restaurant, a Starbucks, or 7/11 – 6/12 and you’re worried about being stranded without water? Now, I’m not advocating this, but others of my generation will remember sports in “the olden days.” We were not allowed to drink water – “you’ll cramp up” was what the coaches told us. And apparently believed. We knew that didn’t seem to be the case, as we never cramped up while playing on our own. But that was the received wisdom, and we went along. And managed. And you now can’t make it through meeting, through any old meeting, without “hydrating?” Toughen up. Take a chance; leave home tomorrow morning without that water bottle. It’ll be an adventure for you. You’ll be living on the edge for the day – on the edge as defined here in 2010, at least. But isn’t that when we feel most alive, most vibrant – when we face The Empty Desert and make it home alive? Go ahead; take a chance. Live a little.
