As a graduating senior with plans to possibly move out of the Badger State, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I may have to let go of a Wisconsin tradition. It’s time to start calling it a drinking fountain, not a bubbler. However, it won’t be an easy task because my fondness for the word is rooted mostly in nostalgia, not logic.

The first objection to the slang word I often hear my out-of-state friends use is that “bubbler” is a misnomer because the water does not bubble from the source, but instead shoots out in a perfect stream. To you, I say, maybe you should have gone to the same Catholic grade school I went to.

The deteriorating building contained many ancient plumbing fixtures, which I suspect dispensed chemical-laden water. And we liked it too! That’s mostly because we were afraid that complaining was somehow sinful and would land us in Hell, though.

More importantly, these water dispensing devices – or bubblers, if you will – were markedly different than more modern ones. Water did bubble up before spilling into porcelain basins, providing us with nourishment so that we might merrily skip along in our plaid skirts and polo shirts and praise Jesus, or whatever. To put it simply, the term “bubbler” reminds me of my more youthful Lip-Smacker-wearing, Pokemon-card-trading days. Who wouldn’t want those days back?

Then there’s the old “bubbler was a particular brand of drinking fountain created by the Kohler company in Wisconsin, so not all drinking fountains are bubblers” argument. Congratulations! You found Wikipedia! But riddle me this, pal: Have you ever called a generic tissue Kleenex? Do you put Chapstick on your lips, or do you always call it lip balm? That’s what I thought. Sometimes the brand name is just catchier and more fun.

Although I am a strong proponent of this word while I still reside in this state, I know I might have to change. I fear that if I cling stubbornly to this word, strangers will say, “Wait, what are you looking for? A bubbler? What’s that”?

Then, I will wonder aimlessly, slowly consumed by dehydration. Sure, I could just bring a water bottle everywhere, but when it’s empty, then what? Fill it up in the sink? Nah. I will just conform. I’ll call it a drinking fountain if that’s what you jokers want. I will shed my Sconnie ways if it means quenching my insatiable thirst, but I won’t like it.

I’ve got standards, though. I will concede to drinking fountain, but you’ll never catch me calling it a water fountain because I reserve water fountains for making wishes. Next time I throw a penny in a water fountain, I will wish for a world where everyone calls it a bubbler, so I can live the dream a little longer.

Holly Hartung ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in journalism and communication arts. If ya have ideas for future Dairyland Down-Low columns abound Wiscaaansin culture, send ’em her way.