While reading Nov. 29’s issue of The New York Times, I learned that lakes are capable of being ingenious archaeologists. According to Manny Fernandez’s article, many lakes in Texas revealed intriguing secrets of old: a 19th-century cemetery, the skull of a Native American man, debris from the space shuttle Columbia disaster of 2003, and even a car—where the body of Brenda Oliver, a woman reported missing in 2008 that authorities believed committed suicide, was discovered.

How were these lakes able to do this? Well, it wasn’t through some magic. It was through a drought—not just any drought, but “the most severe single-year drought on record,” such that “there literally is no point of comparison,” according to a quote from Professor John Nielsen-Gammon in the article. Because of an unprecedented rain shortage, many lakes in Texas experienced an unprecedented drop in their water levels by as many as 23 feet. Some dried up completely.

We all know that drought is a serious problem regardless of how much archaeological value it brings. Although I am glad for Oliver’s relatives, who felt blessed and happy to tie up the loose end of her mysterious disappearance, the numerous studies showing the current drying trend concern me. These studies project that half of the entire world’s population will be living in areas of high-level water scarcity by 2030, and their implications deserve more serious attention.

We’ve seen what drought did to lakes in Texas. Imagine what damage a drought of that magnitude might inflict on people elsewhere. The Southwest, where the population growth rate is one of the fastest in the nation, is projected to be under a permanent drought by 2050. California, along with Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Nevada, is to take the biggest water shortage hit, which would significantly hinder its agriculture. Considering that California produces more than half of the nation’s fruits, nuts and vegetables, this is another rather ominous story.

If we agree that drought is a big problem, can we do anything about it? First and foremost, we must make sure we save water ourselves, whether others are watching or not. Though some of us may not live in areas under high water stress, that doesn’t matter. A save here is a save there. We can do our best to save water ourselves, but we can also increase awareness among others and encourage them to do their best to save water for collective conservation.

Be frustrated at anyone who is blinded from reason to save water, either by negligence or some archeological fascination with the recently discovered vestiges in Texas. We should let them see the other side of things. Remember, though, that we desire to save water—to have the actual faucets turned off—not mere flooding of the empty words.

If we hold drought as a serious issue, we must save water with our own conservation practices, regardless of what others do. This is the only direct contribution anyone can make, and the action ultimately needed. If we don’t do that, then what we tell others to do would be mere regurgitations of what we heard, and what admittedly makes rational sense, but never became a part of us. Only after taking action ourselves can we justly demand others to do the same, and say that we have done something good.

One sure lesson to take from the Texas lakes boils down to a simple idea, using our own hands to physically turn those faucets off—something to keep in mind during your restful winter break, as you enjoy the luxury of long, hot showers. Whether you like it or not, I don’t fancy seeing a car rising in the middle of a lake, the repercussion of another misguided lake turned archeologist in the Texas draught.