When I was growing up in Brooklyn, the dog days of summer were marked by the delighted squeals of children, and sometimes their parents, cooling off under the shooting geysers of city water freed from neighborhood fire hydrants. Someone had managed to dismantle city property, sending streams of public water shooting skyward before falling back to the steamy streets to soak and refresh the sweltering kids. It wasn'tlegal, of course - but, boy, was it fun! The fire, police and water departments never pursued the offenders. Instead, city workers, with good humor, reassembled the fire plugs, watched the wasted water flow down the streets and then into the storm drains. There was no angst over wasted water at that time and in that place.