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

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

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.

Ela Alvy House – By Daniel Farber

Over the subsequent year our connections flowed and ebbed. Living down the hall for a quarter or two, meals and conversations that went into the night were random and delightful. We stayed in touch with some folks more than others, but a year later when some of us decided to leave the dorms, five agreed to rent a house on Sherman Street, in Olympia’s Westside.