When I was a boy, my mother would literally lock me and my brothers an sisters and me out of the house during the summer, only permitting entrance for lunch, which consisted of a slice of bologna and a dollop of catsup between two slices of Wonder Bread and a cup of Kool-Aid. Apples. Pears and peaches could be picked from the trees of my grandfather’s orchard next door if desired and if ripe enough.
If we got thirsty while locked outside, our parents instructed us to drink from the hose, so we did, in vast quantities for years. Eventually my parents bought an attachment to the outdoor spigot that converted it into a bubbler (a drinking fountain for all of you not from Massachusetts), but that came much later. I actually grew to love the taste of water from a garden hose, and I have been known to take a drink from it even today if given the chance.
All this explains why my day was ruined when I read a story about the dangers of drinking from a garden hose in TIME:
Research released by the Ecology Center, which tested water coming from standard garden hoses and found that it can contain lead, endocrine disruptors and neurotoxins, especially in older hoses.
If my mother was alive today, I would be on the phone with her right now, complaining that I could have been an astrophysicist or a cardiac surgeon if not for all the lead, endocrine disruptors and neurotoxins that she forced me to consume as a child.
I’d also point out to her that this would technically be the second time in my life that she attempted to poison me. When I was two years old, she tried to kill me with a bottle of paregoric as well.
Thankfully I cannot be killed. It’s my super power.
