I live in a co-op. There aren’t many of those so I’m guessing that if you’re not a friend or family member you may not be familiar with what they are. There are different kinds of co-ops: food, housing, media, bike, utility, agricultural, school… the list goes on. 

In 1998 I helped found a housing co-op named deCleyre, after anarchist Voltairine deCleyre. April 1st marks the 5th year of it’s existence. It’s been a bumpy ride to say the least. deCleyre flavored co-op living, which may differ from other flavors, is bittersweet. Really bitter and really sweet. There is no middleground here as far as I can tell. Actually, there are typically five to seven people living here and I suppose my tastebuds tell me that the experience is bittersweet… others may feel differently.

It should be said that I’m the only one living here who was around at the beginning. In the five years I’ve lived in this 3,200 sqft house I’ve shared it with over 35 different housemates: the list… best as I can recall: adele, amy, julie, kiern, betsy, john, doug, kim, jessica, shawna, phil, beth, sean, robin, michelle, patricia, joseph, paul, erin, matt, randy, casey, cassy, april, sasha, anthony, shawna, michael, chameka, qausu, rachel, marcus, amyb, carolyn, amyh, sue, nick

That doesn’t include guests which sometimes stay a single night, sometimes a week or more. We’ve had 200+ guests. Sometimes they are alone, sometimes in groups from 3 to 13 people. Guests have included the Pastors for Peace Caravan (3 times), Antioch Environmental Field Program (2 times, 10+ each time, 10-12 days), and Oi Poloi (Scottish punk band). Actually, there was a one year period where lot’s of punk bands stayed overnight but I lost track along time ago.

In our two years we completely dug up our front yard which is something like 80 ft by 200 ft. We took out all the grass and replaced it with a flower/vegetable garden. We never used a tiller, it was all done by hand. The garden still exsists and has been much improved. We’ve also added 2 small ornamental ponds.

From May 1998 to September 1998 we ran Free Radio Memphis out of the house. FRM was a 20watt microradio station which broadcast at 94.7fm for a total of 15 months until it was shut down by the FCC. 

In August 2001 we had a fire in our attic. Yuck. No electricity for over a week. Our house was a strange, strange place to be in September 2001. Things were already very strange with the construction, no gas for a month (no cooking or hot water) and then 9/11 happend and made it all more surreal. By late November 2001 things were sort of back to normal.

For a long while we hosted monthly potluck/parties… probably had at least 30 of those.

It’s been a very, very interesting place to call home. I’ve debated leaving at various times in the past two years. Lately that’s been more on my mind. I don’t know. It’s a hard decision. I don’t know if I can continue living in a place that has such ups and downs. This past week we lost our insurance because of all the clutter around the outside of the house. We’ve had this clutter problem the entire time that we’ve lived here and it drives me absolutely BONKERS. The people that live here have, for the most part, been very socially, eco-aware… activists. A trait of this species is curbside foraging. There’s nothing wrong with that… amazingly useful things can be harvested from the curb. The problem is when people over do it and when they bring stuff home that they never use. In the five years we’ve been here we’ve turned the area surrounding the house into one big cluttered mess of other peoples trash. I hate it now more than ever because now we’ve lost our insurance for a second time. The first time was due to the attic fire. This was insurance that I spent many, many hours on the phone to find and set up because, after the fire, companies laughed at us when we asked for insurance. 

Leaving a place like this is like ending an intimate relationship with a person. It’s a way of life. It’s a relationship… or a series of relationships that through memory create a collective relationship. It’s hard to know when to call it quits.

There’s much more that I could say but it would go on for too long. More about all this later.