The Co-Op

by
Rick Brown

Right down the street from where I live…just a block…there's a food co-op I belong to. I just shop there and try to be friendly when I go in. I'm glad it's there. Still…my avoidance of all things organized keeps me from getting more familiar. I'm kinda funny like that.

So I sauntered down there for a few items for the week. Trail-mix…dog chews…dark chocolate…apples…a six-pack of beer. You know…some of the finer things in this good life. Since the place just began selling beer and wine a short while ago, you must have an ID no matter how old you look. It's smart really. There are still plenty of folks who don't care for old hippies…neo-hippies…people who want to live "simply"…vegetarians. What used to be called counter-culture. And what might be known as "suspicious" today. (Wait…wasn't this "suspicious" 35 years ago?)

I waltzed around the place carefully choosing my staples. Everything was a no brainer…'cept for the beer. There is no corporate brew on these premises. Uh uh…only those beers we all put on a list….that's what co-ops do. Way cool. A place that sells beer with no Bud Light to be seen anywhere...not even warm. Perhaps there is a God. (a god?) I chose Pilsner Urquell…a Czechoslovakian brew that was the very first pilsner made…ever. Yum.

I made my way to the check out area and immediately noticed two new guys running the registers. They looked young. And as soon as the first guy held up a bunch of asparagus and asked…loudly enough to be heard throughout the small store…of his customer, "What's THIS?"…well…my hunch was confirmed.

The other register was suddenly clear so I carried my Curious George re-usable bag (chicks dig it!) over to the other new guy. He rang up everything just fine…then asked me for an ID before he turned his attention to the beer. I gave him the driver's license that identifies me as a 51 year old man…he examined it…handed it back to me…and said, "You're still ROCKIN"!" I was flattered…and impressed he omitted the "DUDE!" Most impressed indeed. Immediately he rung up the beer and asked, "Is this stuff really good?"…once again effectively refraining from the "DUDE". I told him personally I thought it was great. But I cautioned him the beer was "bitey". "Bitey?" he asked. "Yeah" I said. "You know. What some people call 'skunky' beer".

Simultaneously his youthful face screwed up into a wrinkled wad while his voice proclaimed through tight lips "Skunky beer!"…again skillfully avoiding the "DUDE" I smiled and said, "If skunky beer is something you know about, this might not be for you." I too magnificently stifled the "DUDE!" We shared a laugh. I walked home…emptied the Curious George bag…and had myself a "bitey" brew.