We didn’t have much for drink choices in rural America. There were some basic choices: milk from a glass bottle, a sugary green, purple or red option, the rare carbonated beverage, or the old standard, the backyard hose. No kid would ask for a coffee unless they were really weird. We didn’t put a lot of thought into our hydration.

Milk arrived on Thursdays, in a small metal container on the porch. Though the glass bottles were the standard, eventually the beverage began arriving in a wondrous square container. There were no low-fat, full-fat, fatty-fat options. It was all the same. Eventually, the early morning paper delivery kids didn’t have to worry about competing for porch space with the milkman. The metal container went away and milk, in its new aesthetically-pleasing container, was only available at the grocery store. Such drinks were reserved for dinner or to drown sugared formations of questionably-nutritious (Now contains Eight Vitamins and Minerals!) goodness.

At the time of my early childhood, things like butter and sugar sandwiches were considered a nutritious alternative to lunches containing green things. What better accompaniment to these carbohydrate-filled confections than a drink consisting of sugar and food coloring? The Kool-Aid variety pack, possessed by only the most well-connected children, consisted of Goofy Grape, Choo Choo Cherry, Freckleface Strawberry, Jolly Olly Orange, Lefty Lemon, Rootin’ Tootin Raspberry, Loud Mouth Lime and for the discriminating palate, Berry Blue. There was almost nothing better to stain your clothes or wet your whistle on a hot afternoon.

On rare occasions, a quarter would find its way into the pocket of myself and two friends. Only three irksome, stained-shirt children were allowed in the tiny pharmacy at a time. Under the pharmacist’s watchful eye, we placed our money in the machine as slowly as possible. It was the only bit of air conditioning we would feel the entire afternoon and we needed to make it last. We weren’t above dropping our money once or twice to stretch things out. Much like the Kool-Aid experience, pop (or soda) came in colors of the rainbow. Purple, orange, brown or yellow. A bottle glistening with condensation under the hot summer sun was the kid equivalent of a finely- aged wine. I was in high school before I realized these could be consumed somewhere other than a cement parking lot.

When the Kool-Aid pitcher was empty and the quarters long gone, our sun-soaked bodies still desperately ached for hydration. The only option left was the best one. Unlike any mountain stream seen in National Geographic magazines, the backyard hose produced the coldest, clearest water known to man. It didn’t matter if it had been retrieved from the neighborhood cat’s marking spot, from the muddy part of the garden or the area of the lawn that had just received weed treatment. Placing your lips in exactly the same spot as your best friend who was mildly recovered from a flemmy cough was perfection.  Differing from the front yard hose (which always tasted a little off) the backyard hose was a summer delight like no other.

Now that there are adult beverages to choose from, these childhood relics have lost their appeal for me.  If you’re still drinking out of the hose or filling your pitcher with Kool Aid, here’s to you. And make sure you pre-treat the stain.