Wells of Living Waters: (from the Collection, My Life on the Water)
by Ron Hobbs, May 26, 2020
photo, r. whittaker
Back home we had a well. The water was so sweet. It was not the hard iron water that turned the wash pans rusty or bit you when you drank it. Almost everybody else around had "city water" that came through pipes. It didn't taste right to me. Even the hard ground-water that was harsh with iron seemed more honest. The sweet water was a bonus. Besides, I could lead down a bucket on a rope fifteen feet long in August and lift up cool November waters.
There were water fountains in the halls of the grade school. I tried them a couple of times, but the water seemed flumsical and it didn't taste like real water to me.
Eventually as I got older, everyplace I went had the other kind of water, and I got used to it. I began to forget what real water tasted like and over the barely perceptible arc of time, whatever the child had known the man of him had forgotten.
There are myths told of this - how man forgets almost everything of his origins by the time he arrives at planet Earth.
Many years later I was working on a tramp-steamer that had pulled into Haiti. I hiked off on my own to learn the island. It was hot and mid-afternoon and I thirsted. I saw an old woman working her garden.
"Ma'am. Ma'am! Excuse me. I'm a stranger here and I am thirsty. Could I please have a drink of water"?
"Oh yes, Darling! You have come to the right place. The water from my well is the sweetest water in all of Haiti!"
She dropped her bucket down. I could hear it clunking; the echoes told me that she was going deep. Then she drew the water up.
"Drink this, darling. It is from the fountain of youth!"
We sat. We talked in the impossible heat, but there was not a bead of sweat left on my brow. I was refreshed to the very marrow of my bones.
"You know what good water is" she said, smiling, "I can tell. I know such things!"
I gave her my clumsy thanks, but she dismissed it -
"I'm supposed to do this. It's one of my jobs!"
Later, retracing my steps back to the ship, I pondered many things. But it was not like carrying a bag of stones pondering; it was not like that at all. I practically floated up the gangway.
At about sundown I settled into my cabin and opened the port-lights to let the sea breezes in. The First Engineer had gifted me with a bottle of Aquavit, a liquor that translates to "water of life." Thoughtfully, nearly prayerfully, I poured a couple of fingers into a glass and breathed the evening breezes.
Share Your Comments and Reflections on this Conversation:
On Mar 1, 2021 Ronnie Hausheer wrote:
I don't drink enough water. A massage therapist told me so. I get thirsty and I pour a glass of juice from the fridge. But, sometimes, I put a few ice cubes in a glass and add some filtered water. It tastes so good. The story seems like a blessed encounter, life-serving and mutual.On Feb 28, 2021 Helen C. Gennari wrote:
When I use the faucet to fill a glass of water to quench my thirst, I remember the childhood days I played in the creek where the water fed my thirst to discover more of what I did not understand.On Feb 28, 2021 Patrick Watters wrote:
When I was young, maybe 9 or 10, my father took me out to visit an old Montana cowboy he worked for once in a while as young man. Chris lived in a one room cabin miles out a dirt road — no electricity or plumbing. He cooked and heated with wood, a dry compost privy (outhouse) was a troublesome necessity, especially in winter. Chris made a living supplying wild horses to the Calvary Rodeo and others. My father trained many of the horses as “cutting ponies†for others who ran cattle ranches. Oh yes, water! Chris’s water source was a little spring not far from his house. He called it a “coolie†for the cold, sweet water it provided. It was indeed the water of life for Chris.On Feb 28, 2021 Trisha Kammer wrote:
It seems the woman's job may have been to bring kindness to people thus helping them heal physically, mentally and emotionally. By giving him the "good water", the stranger was reminded of a happy childhood memory which made him feel renewed, happy and refreshed.On Feb 28, 2021 Molly Valerio wrote:
The simplicity of life to know it is your job to share sweet water. I would love that simplicity in my life.The word, "flumsical", I still can't find the definition. I really want to know what it was like for him to drink from the fountain. All I can do right now is just imagine.
This story reminds me of my own palate. I had to buy an under the sink water purifier. To drink bad tasting water means I drink less. Now, how am I to be one with all life ( as so brought to my attention during our first pod visit) if I deny myself something as sacred and necessary as water. Bread, they say is the staff of life but now I realize that is not correct at all, it is water water water.
On Feb 27, 2021 Loretta Milburn wrote:
I think the woman was a mystic who was the tender of a sacred well--not just real water, but of the drink that flows from the heart and quenches the thirst of the other.On May 30, 2020 shabbir bootwala wrote:
got interesting and suddely it ended. I liked itOn May 30, 2020 Sahara wrote:
The sweetest story...I feel refreshedOn May 30, 2020 Kristin Pedemonti wrote:
apologies for the typos, I wrote on my phone without wearing my lil reader glasses. <3Here is the corrected one:
Oh to the simple pleasure of well water. I grew up with well water at my grandma's house the well dug is 1939, the water still just as fresh now 81 years on. Grateful for the sweet taste whenever I visit my mom who still lives in the house
She was born there.
Much love to the Haitian woman for her kindness in sharing the sweet well water.
A beautiful reminder of simple yet so needed kindness. Thank you ♡
On May 30, 2020 Paula Schneider wrote:
Having been to Haiti myself, I can visualize this lovely woman's generosity. The Haitian people are generous and compassionate. And...I can almost taste the water! What a nice story.On May 30, 2020 peter anderson wrote:
Ron has a gift for telling stories. This story is lovely and a welcome change from today's headlines about our president. I look forward to more stories from Ron.On May 30, 2020 Helen C. Gennari wrote:
When I was a child my job was to carry water in a little bucket from Grandma's "spring"--a hole in the ground at the bottom of an incline. It was ice cold, even when the sun shown down on it. I poured the water into a larger bucket that sat on the porch with a dipper hanging above it. Anyone who passed by on the porch with a thirst was welcome to dip from the water and drink. Not only was it my task to keep that big bucket full--I also was responsible for keeping the spring clean of the leaves that dropped into the water. In my bare feet, I stand in the water and dip out the leaves, dipping until the hole was almost empty. Except, it never was free of water since the cool liquid of life continuously flowed from the earth. If it breached the depth of the spring hole, it overflowed and formed a little creek / stream that provided a place for Grandma to place her butter (in a glass jar) where it would be kept fresh. The spring and it's living waters is now a part of my DNA.On May 30, 2020 Shari wrote:
I am refreshed and deeply touched, "touched" as if someone has gently placed a hand on my head in blessing. Thank you Ron Hobbs for your story and to all for their comments. It is a connection to the world that I so needed today. "Water", I have taught 6th grade science for 27 years always beginning with "Water" ... its mystery and importance and scarcity and chemistry ... its sweetness.On May 30, 2020 John wrote:
I had to stop the “water of life†because I never had enough!On May 30, 2020 Patrick Watters wrote:
Ah once again the refreshment of story. This causes so many to well up in my heart and mind. Our family are Irish going back to the Kingdom of Dal Riada. We were originally Clsn O’hUaruisce, from whence the Gaelic “uisce†derives, meaning “water of lifeâ€, yes you guessed it, whiskey is the pronunciation and the delight. We are now known simply as Watters. 5X great grandfather James in fact was a master distiller at Bushmills in Northern Ireland. And oh the sweet water of wells or better yet springs. I recall visiting an old cowboy, Chris Sorenson, whim my father worked for as a teenager in Montana. While Chris made baking powder biscuits and eggs in his “off the grid†little kitchen, my brother and I fetched water from the “coolie†as Chris called it, a spring near his cabin. But of course I am wandering now as I often do, in and out of stories. I am indeed a roving anonemoose monk. }:- a.m.On May 30, 2020 Abbe Rolnick wrote:
Metaphorically, the story shoots straight to the thirst we all have for purity and kindness, for the action of doing before recieving. "It's my job." The woman's gift was a calling, simple and pure just as was the water from the well. Going deep into the soul of the earth.I too live in countryside. We drink well water. Our life is a paradise that we work. Gardens and food, and nature, nurtures us during the pandenmic and during our aging years. Cancer is in our life as are the complications of a divisive world. Water, dirt, birds, deer, rabbits, bears, and the like pass through and I am always in awe.
On May 30, 2020 Mamta Nanda wrote:
I have recently started filtering water with charcoal. The water started tasting much better. Then I started putting jug of water outside in sunshine. Somehow being outdoors, helps the water taste almost sweet. There is a sweetness in the water, that I love. Not easy to describe, but great to feel.On May 30, 2020 Linda wrote:
Great short story. Growing up we had to carry drinking water from our well to the house. I loved how cold the water was in the winter and that is when I enjoyed a drink of water the most. Before the age of 10 my Dad ran the underground water pipes from the well to the house so we could have drinking water anytime we liked. I remember how excited we all were to be able to turn the tap on and get a cold drink. Small thing perhaps but it was a big improvement for our family. I have a very deep well where I live now and the water is very sweet, I am blessed. Thanks for your story.