Between afternoon classes and late-night studying, we kneaded whole wheat bread, watered organic vegetable gardens and plotted nonviolent civil disobedience. We were going to change the world -- starting in our own kitchens and backyards.
From 1975 to 1978, I lived in two Stanford co-ops, Terra House and Columbae House, and spent many hours at a third, Synergy House. I remember co-op kitchens as centers of social life -- and social change. Men who had never been taught how to scramble an egg learned how to prepare chile relleno casserole for 50. All of us favored soybean croquettes over steaks, back then when no one counted fat grams.
Our work for the environment began at home. Synergites liked to brag about their solar clothes dryer<a clothesline. Co-op residents jump-started the University's recycling program, raising money to buy a truck and dozens of green barrels.
Many of us agonized over whether to get arrested at a sit-in protesting Stanford's investments in South Africa. I joined the group that sat behind Old Union, cheering as police led each protester away.
The road to social change sometimes took interesting turns. I declined an invitation to join a naked, candlelit group-massage at Synergy House one evening. And a Columbae anthropology student missed the deadline for her paper on the Japanese tea ceremony after she drank the wrong cup of tea the night before -- one that someone had left to cool in the kitchen after stirring in a hit of LSD.
Whether we were arguing into the wee hours about boycotting Florida orange juice (promoted by antigay activist Anita Bryant) or playing a game of cooperative soccer (no score kept), we all shared a sense of justice and community that I've never forgotten.
-- Kathleen Christensen, ’78
