Video - Why Is Groundwater Important - Sara Jane Cluff
Children's Book - Noah & The Aquifer, Art and Story by: Caleb Dowdle (View the PDF.)
Poem - The Poisoned Necessity by Sean Goodwin
Poison dripping down into its heart
Losing the very thing in which they gain their fame
Aquifers and wells drying up, and polluted all the same
Storm surges are filled with chemicals and trash
Corporations poison and diminish our necessary sup-ply, and at the same time, make all of their cash
Our local governments give new regulations, to prevent this from gaining traction further
But instead, the wells dry up, and the aquifers are murdered
Our crops will die off, providing no nutrition
Unless a plan is formed, to bring a positive future into fruition
This could be stopped, if more rules were to be put in place
But all around the world, places are losing the subterranean water supply, that flows with grace
Losing the very thing in which they gain their fame
Aquifers and wells drying up, and polluted all the same
Storm surges are filled with chemicals and trash
Corporations poison and diminish our necessary sup-ply, and at the same time, make all of their cash
Our local governments give new regulations, to prevent this from gaining traction further
But instead, the wells dry up, and the aquifers are murdered
Our crops will die off, providing no nutrition
Unless a plan is formed, to bring a positive future into fruition
This could be stopped, if more rules were to be put in place
But all around the world, places are losing the subterranean water supply, that flows with grace
This is a bucket that is in an empty well.
I made this to show how some people obtain their source of water, and how it can be tak-en away if the supply diminishes too low.
If the person or people do not have the money to perform certain extentions into the well, their supply of water will be cut off.
I made this to show how some people obtain their source of water, and how it can be tak-en away if the supply diminishes too low.
If the person or people do not have the money to perform certain extentions into the well, their supply of water will be cut off.
Children's Book - Humans vs. Nature by Andrew Kraussman (View the PDF)
Short Story by Trixy Lemell
They all were dying of thirst. A metallic taste of blood painted their lips and gums and with dry tongues they played with the gummy clumps that filled between the gaps of missing teeth and receding flesh. Lee watched the boys play their walking game, one with bendy bowlegs that sprang like spruce twigs with pressure and the other whose legs folded in on themselves as if he had drawn them, ankles and knees like L’s and Z’s, at the age of three.They held onto the metal chain link fence that reminded people of the black and brown faces locked away behind brick blocks and black bars of detention centers and mental hospitals. ForLee, they reminded him of when he was nine years old and watched the police beat a black man to death.
His name was Clip. Clip folded silver paper clips with his smooth fingers and weaved wiry random figures,from silver birds to tin men to metal cars. His grey hair cropped skin so black and smooth that it was impossible to tell just how many years had worn him down. Way too often confusion sat in his line, frustration ripped the smoothness from his forehead, and anger puckered his lips.One day, Clip stood on his lawn surrounded with the presence of the aftermath of a lightning strike in a dark sky. Like many minorities in the area there was an impulsive anger in him that some believed was just their nature, in which the best way to deal with such a man was to beat the natural savage out. Lee watched the beating of Clip, who frantically flailed aboutwith defensive arms that shielded his face and ribs from the blows of black batons of the uniformed race. Face on face from every race begged like battered children, “No more.Please, stop. Please, no more. I promise.”Clips legs stretching and kicking as though while lying on the pavement he was trying to run from the nightmare of batons that beat against the bone and flesh of his body. The thumping sound came in a rhythm that rocked the crowd into a frantic frenzy that was only silenced with athwack. Clip’s leg snapped below the knee, and while one continued to run, the other flipped and flopped in the air, each section attached by flesh.
Lee always waited for the legs of the boys to snap and splinter with the same loudthwack that haunted him in his old age. Instead, the two older children held onto the fence like babies. It was a painfully beautiful exchange, the encouraging smiles and laughter as the older brother pushed the younger one forward in their journey to conquer something so simple,walking. Each step kicked up dirt that drifted in the slight breeze, carrying with it the chemical smell of the factory plants which had shut down nearly a decade before. The dirt carried with it more than just a smell, the toxins that plumed out from the smokestacks and into the sky were brought back down to earth with the rain and settled into the ground. It had been like that in many cities around the country after the large drought, the government huddling the lower class and minorities together near factories and farms in which runoff from pesticides and leaks from plants plumed into what was left of the underground water, lakes, and rivers, and even at times into wells and water filtering systems.Over the years the water smelled of hard boil eggs full of liquid and slime, or fluoride or chlorine.
The city always said it was safe to drink, even when the taste of metal ran through it or it came out cloudy. The residents didn’t trust the government and Lee’s college years of protesting during the Flint Michigan water crisis and the Dakota Pipeline had taught him that there was a reason to not to. Those years taught him a lot and soon he understood that the water cycle played into the cycle of poverty and racism. The children of Flint suffered from low IQs, behavioral and emotional issues due to the lead found in the drinking water and Leewondered how much of a role did the drinking water play in the outcome of Clip.Lee rubbed a thick yellow greasy patch of balm onto his hands, filling the cracks that split open his sweet brown skin like fissures opening up the land. He knew it was the water, the chemicals that couldn’t be seen or smelled in it were drying him from the inside. The water handmade his children angry, had eaten away at their minds, made them blind to reason. Around the world children became violent, depressed, the rates of suicide increased and with it so did theamount of imprisoned, beaten, and dead bodies.
But the water had not stopped there with their minds, it came for their bodies causing more than just vomiting and bloody diarrhea. He watched his granddaughter scream in pain, her stomach bloated, taunt, with hot brown skin stretched and bulging, bending her spine although she had a knee to her back. The water caused Blue Baby syndrome, leaving newborns shaking and bugged eyed as they gasped for every breath until their last breath. The water poisoned their eyes, until they had to be removed. The water swelled their ear canals until they were deaf from all sound.But Lee saw everything. Lee heard everything. And it was the seeing and hearing that destroyed his soul.Water had divided the country, it had divided the world. Those with money had clean water and placed their farms and chemical plants in the neighborhood of those who did not;minorities, the disabled, low income. The water was killing them, but they were all thirsty.
The last rainfall had come in the form of a hurricane and had swept across their town almost two years ago. But there was rain, glorious rain that was to come in the city over and the people felt it was their right to have clean water. They filled their cars and trucks with empty buckets and barrels and loaded their children and themselves into their vehicles and where on their way to the main city.He had not intended to go but something in him moved him towards his own car where his daughter and grandchildren waited for him. He watched the two boys reach the end of the fence where their mother collected them one by one in her arms and placed them in the back ofa vintage yellow station wagon. Lee got into his car and followed.It was a long train, the many cars, vans, and trucks that went down the freeway to seek the promise of rain. They passed their own shifted roofed homes and desert landscape.
They passed the farm fields and their smell of rotten fruit and animal wasted and Lee looked at the canal that caught the water runoff of it all. They traveled under grey skies that produced no rain and still held hope in their hearts that their thirst would be quenched. They had tall houses with their many windows and golf courses. And when the first raindrops hit the windows of their car, they believed their prayers would be answered.Lee saw acid rain. Homes weathered down, statues smoothed, plants burned by the waters touch. Something had happened and he could see it in the many white faces that looked on at the parade in front of them. They were faces that knew what they were doing but refused to accept responsibility.
They looked on at the people who got out of the cars, they stared at their bloody smiles, their crooked legs, their eyeless faces and pity trembled on their bottom lips.Rain danced on the lips of the people, washing away the blood that filled so many of them red with anger. The rain drummed against car tops, settled into Lee’s afro hair, and danced with children who laughed with wide mouths that drank from the air.And Lee didn’t have the heart to tell them. To tell them of the water cycle, of the runoff,of the hurricane that swept not only through their area, collecting every contaminate along the way and dumping it into the next city. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that the water falling from the sky was just as contaminated as their own.
That the baby in the woman's arms across the street had no eyes, that the little girl with green eyes had legs that folded in on themselves, and that the people watching them had just seen into their future.The fissures of his hands burned but Lee ignored it. He thought about Clip and the boys along the fence, he thought about his own children and grandchildren and he wondered if they would ever forgive him. He listened to their laughter and the rain that chipped away at their minds and bodies with each thwack.
Author's Note - I choose to write a short story in the genre of science fiction to show some of the effects of water contamination in regards to environmental inequality. My characters are low income and minorities who are living in areas in which the upper class and often white tend to place chemical plants, landfills and other water contaminations at. Because of this, minorities and poor often suffer the most from water contamination (Washington Post). The story also focuses on the water cycle and how contaminated water is able to reach other areas such as during hurricanes. I used many sources to come up with my concept on minorities facing water contamination but much of my work is fiction.
His name was Clip. Clip folded silver paper clips with his smooth fingers and weaved wiry random figures,from silver birds to tin men to metal cars. His grey hair cropped skin so black and smooth that it was impossible to tell just how many years had worn him down. Way too often confusion sat in his line, frustration ripped the smoothness from his forehead, and anger puckered his lips.One day, Clip stood on his lawn surrounded with the presence of the aftermath of a lightning strike in a dark sky. Like many minorities in the area there was an impulsive anger in him that some believed was just their nature, in which the best way to deal with such a man was to beat the natural savage out. Lee watched the beating of Clip, who frantically flailed aboutwith defensive arms that shielded his face and ribs from the blows of black batons of the uniformed race. Face on face from every race begged like battered children, “No more.Please, stop. Please, no more. I promise.”Clips legs stretching and kicking as though while lying on the pavement he was trying to run from the nightmare of batons that beat against the bone and flesh of his body. The thumping sound came in a rhythm that rocked the crowd into a frantic frenzy that was only silenced with athwack. Clip’s leg snapped below the knee, and while one continued to run, the other flipped and flopped in the air, each section attached by flesh.
Lee always waited for the legs of the boys to snap and splinter with the same loudthwack that haunted him in his old age. Instead, the two older children held onto the fence like babies. It was a painfully beautiful exchange, the encouraging smiles and laughter as the older brother pushed the younger one forward in their journey to conquer something so simple,walking. Each step kicked up dirt that drifted in the slight breeze, carrying with it the chemical smell of the factory plants which had shut down nearly a decade before. The dirt carried with it more than just a smell, the toxins that plumed out from the smokestacks and into the sky were brought back down to earth with the rain and settled into the ground. It had been like that in many cities around the country after the large drought, the government huddling the lower class and minorities together near factories and farms in which runoff from pesticides and leaks from plants plumed into what was left of the underground water, lakes, and rivers, and even at times into wells and water filtering systems.Over the years the water smelled of hard boil eggs full of liquid and slime, or fluoride or chlorine.
The city always said it was safe to drink, even when the taste of metal ran through it or it came out cloudy. The residents didn’t trust the government and Lee’s college years of protesting during the Flint Michigan water crisis and the Dakota Pipeline had taught him that there was a reason to not to. Those years taught him a lot and soon he understood that the water cycle played into the cycle of poverty and racism. The children of Flint suffered from low IQs, behavioral and emotional issues due to the lead found in the drinking water and Leewondered how much of a role did the drinking water play in the outcome of Clip.Lee rubbed a thick yellow greasy patch of balm onto his hands, filling the cracks that split open his sweet brown skin like fissures opening up the land. He knew it was the water, the chemicals that couldn’t be seen or smelled in it were drying him from the inside. The water handmade his children angry, had eaten away at their minds, made them blind to reason. Around the world children became violent, depressed, the rates of suicide increased and with it so did theamount of imprisoned, beaten, and dead bodies.
But the water had not stopped there with their minds, it came for their bodies causing more than just vomiting and bloody diarrhea. He watched his granddaughter scream in pain, her stomach bloated, taunt, with hot brown skin stretched and bulging, bending her spine although she had a knee to her back. The water caused Blue Baby syndrome, leaving newborns shaking and bugged eyed as they gasped for every breath until their last breath. The water poisoned their eyes, until they had to be removed. The water swelled their ear canals until they were deaf from all sound.But Lee saw everything. Lee heard everything. And it was the seeing and hearing that destroyed his soul.Water had divided the country, it had divided the world. Those with money had clean water and placed their farms and chemical plants in the neighborhood of those who did not;minorities, the disabled, low income. The water was killing them, but they were all thirsty.
The last rainfall had come in the form of a hurricane and had swept across their town almost two years ago. But there was rain, glorious rain that was to come in the city over and the people felt it was their right to have clean water. They filled their cars and trucks with empty buckets and barrels and loaded their children and themselves into their vehicles and where on their way to the main city.He had not intended to go but something in him moved him towards his own car where his daughter and grandchildren waited for him. He watched the two boys reach the end of the fence where their mother collected them one by one in her arms and placed them in the back ofa vintage yellow station wagon. Lee got into his car and followed.It was a long train, the many cars, vans, and trucks that went down the freeway to seek the promise of rain. They passed their own shifted roofed homes and desert landscape.
They passed the farm fields and their smell of rotten fruit and animal wasted and Lee looked at the canal that caught the water runoff of it all. They traveled under grey skies that produced no rain and still held hope in their hearts that their thirst would be quenched. They had tall houses with their many windows and golf courses. And when the first raindrops hit the windows of their car, they believed their prayers would be answered.Lee saw acid rain. Homes weathered down, statues smoothed, plants burned by the waters touch. Something had happened and he could see it in the many white faces that looked on at the parade in front of them. They were faces that knew what they were doing but refused to accept responsibility.
They looked on at the people who got out of the cars, they stared at their bloody smiles, their crooked legs, their eyeless faces and pity trembled on their bottom lips.Rain danced on the lips of the people, washing away the blood that filled so many of them red with anger. The rain drummed against car tops, settled into Lee’s afro hair, and danced with children who laughed with wide mouths that drank from the air.And Lee didn’t have the heart to tell them. To tell them of the water cycle, of the runoff,of the hurricane that swept not only through their area, collecting every contaminate along the way and dumping it into the next city. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that the water falling from the sky was just as contaminated as their own.
That the baby in the woman's arms across the street had no eyes, that the little girl with green eyes had legs that folded in on themselves, and that the people watching them had just seen into their future.The fissures of his hands burned but Lee ignored it. He thought about Clip and the boys along the fence, he thought about his own children and grandchildren and he wondered if they would ever forgive him. He listened to their laughter and the rain that chipped away at their minds and bodies with each thwack.
Author's Note - I choose to write a short story in the genre of science fiction to show some of the effects of water contamination in regards to environmental inequality. My characters are low income and minorities who are living in areas in which the upper class and often white tend to place chemical plants, landfills and other water contaminations at. Because of this, minorities and poor often suffer the most from water contamination (Washington Post). The story also focuses on the water cycle and how contaminated water is able to reach other areas such as during hurricanes. I used many sources to come up with my concept on minorities facing water contamination but much of my work is fiction.
3-D Model of the Water Table by Brianna Olive
Song "Water" by Celine Pedro (Very pretty but I can't get YouTube to accept this as an MP4.)
GIF - Water Table by Lawrence Randazzo
Interpretive Dance - Water by Kaylee Walker
Video - How Groundwater Forms by Toan Truong