Photo by nancyscola
It was shaping up to be one of those enviable early summer Brooklyn evenings: a group of friends picnicking on quilts in Prospect Park with perfumed linden trees, twinkling fireflies and a Celebrate Brooklyn concert in the background—when my BFF, Pasha, the green-eyed, goateed, social-conscience eco-revolutionary Midwestern hippie—nearly spoiled it all by rolling those green eyes at the tub of hummus I had brought and once again entreated me to join the neighborhood FoodCoop.
“C’mon Michele, you know it’s not only the right, but righteous thing to do. I can’t believe you’ve lived in Brooklyn for so long and not joined. You like good food. You’re all into the community. Plus, it’s MAD CHEAP!”
I had heard this from him many times before and answered (as always), that while I did indeed like food (and very much so), it was now 2008, I had lived in said community for 20 years and been warned at regular intervals by friends and neighbors against subjecting myself to the will of those “militant sanctimonious fascist hippies.” He bristled in defense while our other friends laughed. But since we were, after all, BFFs, we agreed to disagree and turned to more pressing concerns: “Who needs more wine?” and “Keep an eye out for the cops!”
Click to read more ...