With Good Friends We Can’t Lose

By Nancylee Bouscher

Many times, I have craved for a word that expresses this emotion I frequently have of yearning to be a part of something that occurred before my life began. It’s in small movements, like lighting a candle or treasuring a bit of ribbon I will never use that my heart aches in this foolishly romantic way. Even as I embrace and enjoy so much of the modern world, there’s a tether to a time beyond my reach that is so beautifully sad because I don’t have any memories of that time. Not having a word for it somehow made me feel even more mournful. How could something so true to me be seemingly nonexistent in language?

Today, however, I found that word: anemoia. Even my spell check doesn’t believe me, and YouTube had to pronounce it. But it does exist—and if someone put the Greek word for “wind” alongside the word for “mind” to create it, then I am not the only one with this sweet pull of a past that we never had.

Initially, this article was going to be mostly about how communities create the co-op they need, and with that end in mind, I spoke to two people who have been pivotal in creating two co-ops with a shared vision and a slightly different outcome—and we’ll still get there. First, though, I just want to see if I can persuade you to feel a bit of anemoia, or nostalgia, depending on your age, about what it was like in the early 1970s because, as I spoke to Joe, from Park Slope Co-op in Brooklyn and then later to Todd, from our Food Co-op, my mind was truly blown back in time to something I wish I could have been a part of: creating a co-op.

It’s the 1970s. You’re a young person, maybe in college, maybe not. You live in a big old house with a couch that has seen a lot, with a bunch of other folks in the same boat of “what am I going to do with my life?” The shadow of the Vietnam War still looms, and Watergate is the latest political scandal—both leaving you with some feelings about the government. The book “Silent Spring” shows up on the coffee table, and a couple of you decide to seek your fortune in far-off lands. Kinda like Kermit and Fozzy, you want to see if you can make it big by living with a small footprint. Or maybe you live in the middle of a busy city that you love with a neighborhood that has got everything you need within walking distance. You don’t want to live in a moldy tent on a wet hill and grow organic broccoli, but you do want to be able to afford to buy some. There’s a bit of struggle in either dynamic­­—you simply cannot do it alone, and why would you want to when you have this group of equally freaked out/jazzed up people to do it alongside? You feeling any anemoia yet?

Yes, I’m painting with big brush strokes here, but the truth is that in times of struggle, we seek allies. Both co-ops started with volunteers to gain affordable access to good food. Park Slope, which sells more than twice what we do in a year with half as much store space, has maintained a volunteer workforce. Moreover, it is one of the few co-ops that is NOT open to the public. Its volunteer structure saves them millions in labor costs, which allows them to offer more affordable prices to their 16,000 members. They have increased their paid staff over the years and now have over eighty folks on the payroll.

Our Co-op has always been open to everyone, but volunteers played a huge role until the mid-1980s when programs like L&I and Social Security came down on some volunteer programs in food co-ops. For a bit, we did offer a discount for work that didn’t replicate any work done by paid staff, like teaching yoga classes. Currently, the only volunteers we have are the elected board members, and they do get a discount on purchases. The Olympia Food Co-op also has a current volunteer program where folks work shifts as cashiers to get a discount on purchases. They are also unique in that many of their decisions are based on the consensus of paid staff. I don’t have anemoia about running a business on consensus. I do enjoy collaboration and compromise, but there are times when one person can block the progress that the vast majority support.

If you have a food allergy, I feel like you can relate to this concept on a cellular level. All your body systems are cooperating, doing their thing, letting you live your best life, and then BAM! Gluten has entered the chat like an ugly troll. Your histamine levels rise, and you are in the midst of an autoimmune storm, leaving you tired, in pain, miserable, with some brain fog for extra points. This is a story we hear multiple times a day in Wellness, and often, folks aren’t quite sure what the exact wrench in their system is. Many folks embark on an autoimmune protocol (AIP) to reduce inflammation and to determine if they have specific triggers they need to avoid in their diet. Others might take a more relaxed approach by adopting a Mediterranean diet, focusing on fresh products, clean protein, and limiting processed foods. Still others might try taking an enzyme with each meal, increasing their Omega-3 intake, or trying a turmeric supplement.

I love when folks come back to share their success stories about how they found that thorn in their paw and pulled it out, often with the help of a friend or two, and changed their daily reality. But it’s not always that easy. Sometimes we can’t quite put our finger on the problem, or like life’s whack-a-mole, you get your hormones under control only to throw your back out while loading free greens for your goats (yes, I’m speaking from experience). The more challenging issue to solve in our bodies and lives is when we know what the problem is, but we can’t quite seem to find the solution. Maybe it’s too big, and all we see are the ways it is impacting us now and how it could impact us more in the future. And that is when you gather.

Call your friends who had similar experiences to see how they solved it. Find strangers who share a vision and seek solace in knowing that people can come together to solve seemingly impossible problems—whether that’s a support group for Lupus or figuring out how to support local farms that could lose government funding. Food co-ops and all cooperative economic models are examples of our innate human desire to work together to make life better for everyone. I know I will never cure myself of my anemoia, and I also know there’s a big possibility that some generation looking back at us could experience that same feeling when they learn about how we came together, despite our differences, and focused on being stronger together.