The Easily Converted Slip-N-Slide...

having always lived in a city, you don’t always think about the importance and convenience of some things, like public water. you take for granted the fact that when you’re thirsty, you turn on the faucet. when you take a piss, you flush. when your lawn turns yellow, you crank up the sprinkler.

i should have a deeper appreciation for this particular utility as my grandfather, george cobb, literally laid the pipe in the beginnings of the town of lincoln park, nj, then known as beavertown. i recall when i was younger, and my grandfather retired, employees of the road department that, as legend has it, he started with a shovel and a rake that he borrowed from his father-in-law, coming to our house as he sat on the patio on sunny summer afternoons doing his um-teenth crossword puzzle of the day and drinking his coffee out of a mug with the word ‘BOSS’ appropriately printed on the side, to inquire about where to find the proper valve to turn off the water in a certain neighborhood in order to fix a water main break in another. as the suburban sprawl of the town had lead to a vast spider-webbing of water pipes up and down the mountain heights of lincoln park. my grandfather knew where every pipeline led & split, and split again; because he had his hands in the project throughout his thirty-two years on the road department, several of which he served as the superintendent of public works.

i often wonder, since his passing, the trouble that those men go through these days; trying to mend those breaks when they happen, without having him to fall back on in reference. and are they reminded of him as they head back to the town garage, frustrated as hell, as they turn down george cobb lane?

now, as i take temporary refuge in this primitive ‘ski villa’ in the pocono mountains of pennsylvania, i regret not appreciating the convenience of having clean, filtered, running, drinking water. do me a favor, next time you throw your pocket change into your piggy bank, or into your inevitably existent drop zone for the like, take a whiff of your hand after making your deposit. that scent, that scent of lead and copper my friends, is the scent of a glass of tap water here as it makes its way toward your lips. metallic, chalky, liquid nastiness. undrinkable, to say the least. i know it’s gotta be better than sipping from an oasis of camel sweat & zebra piss in the middle of the sahara, but DEFINITELY unsavory.

after all of that explanation, what’s my point you might ask? what in the hell am I doing with the seven-year-old neighbor's slip-n-slide hanging in the yard? and while i’m at it, what’s with the dishpan in the picture? that, my friends, is the super water-matic 76.** thankfully the pocono mountains are famous for vast amounts of perplexing precipitation; rain, snow, sleet, freezing rain, we’ve got it all here daily. and thank god for it. this device, the super water-matic 76**, may look like a lawn ornament straight out of a west virginia trailer park, collects this darling precipitation and provides me with some of the most delicious hydration imaginable. and it’s free! smart water? eat your heart out 50 cent. ahh… life in the wilderness.

**though I can’t take the credit for the design of the super water-matic 76, that goes to my mom who likes to call herself ‘macgyver’, i am a licensed operator and soon to be u.s. & foreign patent holder… if all goes well. cross your fingers.