Joe Tougas

The Sauna, the Goddess, and the Mushrooms – By Joe Tougas

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For several years in the ’70s, the folks at Cold Comfort hosted what they called a Harvest Festival . . . One of the highlights of each of these gatherings was firing up the sauna . . . “I was standing in the shadows, observing the scene as the cloud of smoke and steam began to dissipate and the circle of joyous celebrants around the altar began to reassemble. I saw the most amazing sight. One of the glorious bodies stepped into the candle-lit circle and stood for a moment lit by the sparks from the holy fire . . .”

Whimsical and Creative Names of Group Houses and Collectives 1960 – 1989 – By Joe Tougas

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One of the interesting practices that was characteristic of the Olywa local culture in the 1970s was the naming of the various houses and households . . . The number of houses with names ballooned over time. Recently, when a request went out for people’s memories of those named households, the response was huge. Here is a list of over a hundred names dredged up from peoples’ memories and documents.

Smokin’ on the Dock of the Bay – By Joe Tougas

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That day I was walking through a trashed-out industrial part of the old downtown . . . I saw a rusty fire escape going up the side of one of the rough concrete buildings. I climbed the stairs, noticing how one tread was hanging loose, up to the landing where I could sit and have a look around. I immediately saw that this was a bitchin’ spot. You could see a long way in all directions. Across the street there was a row of sheds or warehouses hanging over the water. Much of the corrugated metal siding had been ripped off, and it was obvious that most of those buildings had not been used in a long time. 

Making Hay While the Sun Shines – By Joe Tougas

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Cold Comfort Farm took the “Farm” in its name seriously. We thought of ourselves on the model of agricultural co-ops. We wanted to be independent, creative, revolutionary. We were pretty smug about our agrarian accomplishments. Although our knowledge of small-scale farms was spotty and romanticized (not to mention borderline illegal) we were proud of our worn-out overalls and home-grown strawberries and broccoli.