We encounter new RVers almost on a daily basis. Invariably, the conversation turns to “how we do it”. We share our living idiosyncracies with others and they, in turn share theirs with us. This is a great way to learn new tactics, short-cuts, how to cut living expenses, how to save time and money, and mostly how to do things much easier than we have before. One common thread that I seem to be finding is that most long term RVers purchase bottled water. This is done both for drinking and cooking.
Initially when we started out on our adventurous road, we felt our in-line water filter was doing a fine job. Over the years, we’ve come to find the quality of water is sub-standard for our needs. Most of the water we encounter at RV parks and campgrounds is hard, contains not much chorine and no trace of flouride. The majority of the water is drawn from wells. Living on a farm for most of our married lives, well water is no stranger to us, however, we always softened our water via a Culligan system for those many years. Despite the amenities and our affinity for Yellow Jacket RV park, the water here leaves much to be desired and we’ve acclimated ourselves to purchasing water for the last several months. This is a first for us and something we’ve not had to do in the past. It is no big deal, until yesterday at Walmart.
I was studying the various brands Mr. Walton offered, trying to figure out the best deal. Did I want the 24 pak, or was the 32 pak a better buy? Should I get the 12 oz. size as the refrigerator isn’t household size, or get the 10 ouncers and just stack less in the drawers? Since the bottles were a bit different in net weight I had to do some quick math. And then it hit me. I couldn’t. The bottle language was all in Spanish. I’ve not seen this before. Please don’t read me as a racist, or a xenophobe. Afterall, my grandparents all emigrated here, were part of the huddled masses, sailing from some area of Europe and not being able to speak English themselves. I understand this country moving to a bilingual setting. Statistics claim that by 2017, English speaking caucasians will be a minority here. OK, so give us the option that most places, telemarketers, and automated phone services do. But here in Walmart, I can’t read the bottled water because I took French in high school And this is north central Florida, not Miami. I see so many changes that I’m unsettled with taking place in the country. I yearn for the “good old days”, sometimes. Oh, my god. I’m becoming my grandfather.
