I had always taken access to potable water for granted untilI was on a long distance bicycle trip more than a decade ago. I was biking fromMinneapolis to Chicagoas part of an organized event to raise money for HIV/AIDS organizations. Pitstops were strategically placed every 20 miles, but on one especially hot day Iran out of water long before I would reach the next pit stop. By the time Imade it into camp that night, I was exhibiting signs of dehydration. After resting,and consuming what seemed like gallons of water, I was back on my bike the nextmorning. A few weeks after that bike ride, I had another experiencewith water. The organization I work for is located in an economicallychallenged part of Minneapolis. Homelesspeople were using our outdoor water faucet to brush their teeth, bathe, wash clothes,and collect drinking water. I got a call from a woman who worked across thestreet from our nonprofit saying that she found it "unsightly" watching people atour water spigot. She asked us to turn the water off. As it turned out, manybusinesses had turned their water sources off to discourage street people fromgathering at these urban watering holes. Having been made ill from the lack ofwater a few weeks prior, I told the caller that we would never disconnect thiswater source for the neighborhood – and we never have.

In the next few years my work would take me to Africa.In South Africa, lacking water in their homes, thousands of people living intownships walk to public water taps – an impossible distance for the elderlyand those who are ill. In the rural areas, women journey to rivers to drawwater, lift the jugs on their heads, and then walk back to their villages. Millionsof people, every year, suffer water-borne illnesses; and approximately 1.8million people annually – mostly children – die from diarrheal diseasesassociated with unsafe water.

It was a South African activist who asked me how many watertaps I have in my home. I said I had no idea. The activist responded by sayingthat only people with privilege don't know how many sources of water they havein their homes. Poor people, he went on, have to plan their daily lives aroundfetching water. He was right. (By the way, we have seven sources of safedrinking water in our 1,200 foot home in Minneapolis.)

I know I leave a large "water footprint" every day. I enjoylong showers and hot baths. I do laundry too frequently. But I am determined tocut down on my water use.

I've made certain that all of the stoppers in the sinks andbath tub in our home actually hold water. I've stopped running hot water when Ishave; using water in the basin instead. When the dehumidifier is full, I takethe container outside and pour the water onto plants. Our gardens have beenreplaced with indigenous plants and grasses which require less water than theannuals we had been planting. And just this weekend, we put a rain barrel inthe backyard to collect water.

These are small efforts that don't conserve much water.Still, a few modifications in my life help to remind me that we share theplanet with millions of people who simply don't have access to water. Andawareness is always the first step towards action.