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Spartan Housing Cooperative Pine Press 25 June 2021
Pine Press June 2021 Spartan Housing Cooperative TABLE OF CONTENTS Cover design by Chrystel Lopez of Miles Davis 02 Note from the Editor 03 What the Heck are Carrying Charges? 04 Phoenix Party Review 05 Poetry Submission: Hills of Oak 06 Short Story: Two Glasses 07 Farewell from Nola 08 Happy Haus, Healthy Haus
Note from the Editor Hello co-opers, Somehow it’s already the end of the month again and I’m putting together another Pine Press. We have some shining writing samples in this one, including two pieces inspired by Phoenix’s party on the 12th (a gr8 time, u really had 2 be there). We also have an article from your corporate treasurer, Leah, about your co-op carrying charges (FKA assessment). This Pine Press also contains a farewell from our Member Services Coordinator, Nola Warner. We will miss her dearly. In the meantime of her transitioning out of being staff for our co-op, Marty Sloan, former 2017-2018 SHC president, has stepped in to do some temporary member services assistant work. And speaking of former SHC presidents stepping in, Jimmy Coyer of the 2018-2019 year is doing some part time temporary work supporting the finance area. Glad to have you back! I should also use this note as an opportunity to mention the 131 Whitehills purchase referendum. The decision of whether the co-op buys this house is up to us to make as members owners. This is a big deal, and could result in an expansion of cooperative living in East Lansing...make sure you vote! Check your email for a SurveyMonkey ballot from the president. If you can’t find it, and it’s not in your junk folder, you can reach out to Dale at corporatesecretary@spartan.coop to make sure you get it. The ballot itself contains plenty of information
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Spartan Housing Cooperative Pine Press 25 June 2021
about the details of the purchase. Your president, Erik, is happy to answer any questions about it at president@spartan.coop. Things are changing and happening, our co-op is evolving into its future. We are all a part of planting seeds for future trees. We re-did a garden bed at my house last fall, and are planning to build one on the other side of the house, but we will need future members to take care of the gardens so they stay nice. Because we own it, we are responsible for making sure it continues on. We are each a part of bringing the co-op into what it will be next, and maintaining it for future folks. Yours in coop, Emily Tyler VPE/EVP, Vesta
What the Heck are Carrying Charges? By Leah Rogers, Corporate Treasurer, Vesta If you’ve ever lived in the Spartan Housing Cooperative, you’ve probably heard the term “Assessment” used at least once. However, if you were to look up “Assessment” in the National Cooperative Law Center’s Glossary of Housing Cooperative Terms, the space where it would be is blank. This is because the term “Assessment” implies a one-time fee or charge for a service provided rather than a monthly, recurring payment made to your housing provider. Therefore, changing our vocabulary to include “Carrying Charge” or “Monthly Carrying Charge” just makes sense. A “Monthly Carrying Charge” is defined as, “…the member/shareholders’ proportionate share of the cooperative’s operating expenses, reserve funding, and mortgage payments” (NCLC). Because this term more accurately reflects how we charge our members, the SHC has decided to adopt “Monthly Carrying Charges,” rather than “Assessment” going forward. Now that we’ve cleared that up, I’m sure you’re wondering how we come up with Carrying Charges and where they go once you pay them. At present, Carrying Charges are $435 for a single room in our co-op and $290 for a non-single. Combined with your House Charge, which is the budgeted expenditure that you and your housemates decide to charge yourselves for, these amounts make up your total Monthly Charges. The SHC staff assesses Carrying Charges yearly to adjust for inflation and changes in the price of goods and services. This means that it is likely each year that Carrying Charges will increase slightly, and since 2014, it has been our practice to increase by less than 1-3% per year. Since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, Carrying Charges were frozen and will need to be evaluated for an increase for our 2021-2022 budget. In inflation-adjusted dollars, SHC housing will remain accessible and affordable over time! Next let’s talk about where your Carrying Charges are spent! We cover significant property-related expenses through Carrying Charges. With 17 houses worth of property taxes, insurance, and maintenance expenditures, it’s no surprise that our properties are our largest expenditure. It is also important to note that our mortgage payments, insurance, and property taxes are all fixed costs, so we must budget for them regardless of our income. Another significant expense is staffing and overhead. The money we budget here goes to keeping the lights on in the office and keeping our staff members paid! To me, the most fun part of the budget is our program and governance expenses. This money pays for the stuff that sets us apart from any old housing provider. Program and governance funds allow us to plan and execute trainings for members, such as fall Conflict Resolution and Mediation, as well as all-membership events and parties! Our ability to offer opportunities for professional development as well as fun community-building activities is one of my favorite things about the SHC and something that has made living here so worthwhile!
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Spartan Housing Cooperative Pine Press 25 June 2021
I hope that this article has helped to shed some light on the way that our co-op operates and has improved your understanding of where we budget our money and why. If you ever want to chat about finance, budgets, or etcetera, hit me up any time at treasurer@spartan.coop!
Hi everyone, Danny from Bowie here, and it’s time for a review of the new Phoenix project: Color party By Danny Olweean, Bowie In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. - Ratatouille (2007) It is time to get drunk! - Charles Baudelaire (1869) The rabbit hole of declaring art subjective is paradoxically bottomless yet shallow. What I mean to say is that subjectivity is so often used to deem any sort of artistic critique as not only irrelevant but impossible, and while I agree to a certain extent, I think the dismissal creates a lazy excuse to move on from a project without analyzing why you felt the way you did. Did you enjoy the art because it created the desired response, such as an emotional connection, self-reflection, or an expanded worldview? If it was bad, was it because it did not achieve these ends? These types of questions reveal parts of yourself and your desires, and provide a greater understanding of and for the artistic world. As a classic example, take a conversation with a modern art hating loser: I hate this art! Why? Because it’s lazy! Why do you think it’s lazy? Because even I could do that! Then why didn’t you? Parties are a form of participatory art. The organizers build the structure, the attendees add the shading, and a living, ephemeral organism is created. Everyone is an artist. And so, parties can be evaluated according to how they aligned with your desires for the event. What did I want? A good time. How did it fair? Well, let’s drop the pretentious formalities and talk about Phoenix's Color party To begin, I must remark on the genius concept. After escaping from what Camus describes as the pandemic’s “aimless days and sterile memories,” the Coops were ready for a beautiful community gathering once more. However, a year and a half of isolation left many faces unfamiliar. What better introduction than to have every house color-coded. And so, as my orange housemates and I walked down Phoenix's sloped driveway, we were met with heartwarming calls of “BOWIE!” I can’t speak for everyone there that night, but this was the first party I attended since March 2020. To immediately be met with warm smiles and invitations to join a flip cup game was euphoric. After mingling with some long-lost faces, I discovered that Phoenix had supplied an entire keg of beer. This was huge. As some may know, I enjoy free things. I had planned my alcohol consumption that night to a reasonable extent. However, when I turned to the metal barrel staring me in the face, I simply could not resist, simply saying “well, ok.” It was at this point in the night that I became a demon. I have pieced together parts of what occurred after, each makes me rub my forehead thinking “ah that wasn’t good.” My housemate, let's call him Clancy, was on a similar level as I. We, somehow, ended up in the kitchen and, somehow, began to aid a Phoenix member with the creation of jungle juice. I will keep their name anonymous for privacy’s sake, but you know who you are. And actually, aid is not the correct word, because every step along the way we made the process objectively worse. For example, when the ice was solidified in a large chunk, both Clancy and I punched the solid rock to break it apart. It did not work. “Don’t do that,” said the Phoenix member. We did other annoying things after. To you, I am truly sorry, if you find me at a Bowie party I’ll let you punch some ice. And give you free drinks of course. I would be remiss if I did not speak of the mosh pit. I enjoy moshing more than the average person, so I can attest to the quality of this pit. The surprise(!) band of the night, Dad Cap, played the perfect music needed to have
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Spartan Housing Cooperative Pine Press 25 June 2021
my body thrown around a sweaty room for an hour and blast my eardrums (note to all: if you don’t already start wearing earplugs. Honestly, it’s a necessity). During the band, I also entered the kitchen to eat pizza that my friend had ordered. While picking off the pepperoni, I drunkenly explained to all who asked my personal relationship with my family religion and that, while I don’t really consider myself a believer I still don’t eat pork and I don’t really have an explanation for that but pizza is really good you should try some also it’s nice to see you all yeah it’s been a while also this band is pretty cool right by the way what are you doing next year oh no way that’s so god damn awesome I’m glad to hear it by the way we have a party coming up and you better be there! Maybe it was the moshpit, maybe it was a forgotten knife fight, but at the end of the night I assessed my damages and found: cuts on my knuckles (probably the ice), cuts on my abdomen (I have no idea), a gash in my foot (I have no idea), an honestly pretty deep and pretty long slice on my leg (I have no idea but if anyone knows let me know because I don’t really get how I didn’t notice that till later). Maybe it was the moshpit, maybe it was a forgotten enlightenment, but at the end of the night I counted my blessings and found: a generous house (probably the keg), a beautiful community (probably because coop kids really are the best), wondrous housemates (probably because I have seen them and only them for over a year), and a night full of memories (though it’s possible I am still unearthing certain moments). I was going to conclude this with some sentimental passage about how the party was a tour de force for every artist or something, but enough of that nerd shit. I had uhhh a pretty good time. 10/10 (objectively) 100/10 (subjectively)
Poetry Submission: Hills of Oak By Montana Svoboda of New Community I walked down the steps unsure of case, of tense, trusting they'll lead me to where I needed most to be, behind veil of lightning and thunder bounding between buildings, shots fired back, slack pulled in, chandeliers shattering in terms of raspberry, lemon and lilac calling I could speak and listen, hear you in response in the basement in the vacant tile, fragrant possibility of a blood poppy blossoming, ransom off these takes and frames focused light locusted memorya painting you'd point to Orion, down the street to Howland, first sun then came the closets, storage and ironed out old iron ore coffee stains, we look between your fingertips out into the afternoon and are greeted with a series of constellations. Beckoning recklessly falling towards nothing in or instead if we wish towards a river I know this, a little further and it'll be the Days, Mississipi, skipping across wood panelled halls we skip across subjects like rocks, miles like moments, like monuments falling, fading into the night; it could've been June or January, a few years ago I got here, that much I know, heavy handed and lacking any light of my own, a few years ago a few more went by and I caught myself catching up, holding between these little oceans of mine leathered river bed valleys of maple leaves, rolling knolls and fevered flecks of gold, oak and birch, despite it being Spring and again I blink and silver, splinter off, it's Autumn, the passing, the ice breaking until it's all open- our bridges built visible, our roads dusted and cracking fleeting glee of release, collective ease for awhile it all flows into the bay, little bay until it all flows over your little beating bearing heart, the seasons are yet changing, the vapor to ice, the beer to liquor, it all began somewhere, near the near limit of a limitless atmosphere, the second floor stepped slowly back to level, a door and decline, a night, a lifetime.
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Spartan Housing Cooperative Pine Press 25 June 2021
Short Story Submission: Two Glasses By Alayna Offredi of Howland Two lovers sat across from one another in a crowded restaurant. The restaurant was designed to serve its millennial type clientele. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, glowing dimly against the windowed walls. The last glimmering rays of sunset snuck out from gently draped sage curtains. Lit candles were set in the middle of the tables, casting a soft white and yellow glow against the warmth of the oak furniture. A gently sweet scent of warm linen and bergamot mingled among the guests in the dining room. Amidst the diners however, a couple sits, particularly illuminated by the atmosphere. The lighting in the restaurant flattered the man, as the candlelight danced across his attractive features, lilting eyes and olive skin. His smile cut the softness of the room, with a dazzling beam directed only to his lover. However, someone mistakenly took the gift as if it was meant for them. While the partners were beautiful together, the woman did not stand out like the man did. Her plain and modest composure was outshined by her partner’s. Her wiry straight brown hair fell down just slightly past her shoulders, hiding parts of her face. Her lips were thin, and she had tried to hide this fact with her wine red lipstick. It had the opposite effect, and they now appeared even thinner in the light. The woman's saving grace was her eyes. Her eyes, which were entirely incomparable, served to counter the plainness of her features. They were brilliantly green, like the deep, lush velvet of a forest canopy. A beautiful, rich green, with striking splashes of warm amber and gold. It was the woman's eyes, in fact, that originally caught the attention of the man sitting opposite her at the table. They were so deep and captivating, the man thought, he felt entranced by their rich verdant aura. However, her eyes were unusually clouded this dinner. The gold specks that once shimmered and danced behind her lashes were almost non-existent, and the brilliance was dimmed, as if clouds of doubt had formed within her vision. Her mind raced while her partner chatted about his day, her fingertips drifting mindlessly over the silverware. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she agreed to meet for dinner. There was a period of danger her doctor had warned her about, which she blatantly ignored. The failure to deliver could be a cosmic punishment for tempting fate. She bit her lip, anxious thoughts bubbling up in her chest. She did not have a history of superstition, but maybe now was the start of such apprehension. She was fairly sure there was no family health history that could have caused it. Of course, she had not spoken about it with her mother, unless it was to tell her of the original pregnancy. But that was almost seven months, and two miscarriages ago. There was no one in the woman's family who knew. Her partners and her own parents were beginning to prepare their own houses for a baby that would not arrive. The woman could not bear the thought of telling her parents that she was infertile. The look on their faces pictured in her mind made her heart throb in anguish. What was worse, is her partner did not know either. How could she tell the father of the would-be baby that his baseball player, straight-A student and future best friend would simply not exist? She began to feel an all-too familiar lump forming in her throat, as if the thoughts themselves were beginning to choke her. The crushing feeling, the grief that she had felt throughout the ordeal, alone, was too much to bear. The woman's eyes began to fill with tears. She dared not to blink, but her body betrayed her. Silently, she allowed the unbearable pain in her chest to spill over, glistening tears wetting the tablecloth in front of her. The man immediately stopped his chatter, glancing up briefly to notice the tears on her face. Despite his initial shock, he quickly regained his composure and gave the woman his undivided attention. He knew something was wrong. Something big was upsetting his partner, or she would not have been this quiet for this long. He caressed her hand into his, pausing slightly as he felt an aching sigh from her body, shallowing her breaths and stilling his own. His mind raced to find the problem in their seemingly perfect world, a world that she knew would be left behind at the table that night. Just a moment longer was all she needed, here, in the atmosphere of wishful thinking, of a life anticipated, but unrealizable. As her breaths steadied, the woman began to wipe her eyes. She glanced up at the man with a sorrowful smile, and called the waitress over. “Two glasses of wine, please.” The woman asked.
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Spartan Housing Cooperative Pine Press 25 June 2021
Farewell from Nola A farewell message from Nola Warner, outgoing Member Services Coordinator June 2015-2021 Dear Members and SHC Community, I have avoided writing this letter as long as I could. Consider that a compliment. For some of you, I’ve only had the opportunity to meet you virtually. Others I’ve known for years and have cried tears with. And to every one of you, I’ll say one last time : thank you for being the Co-op’s greatest asset. Since June of 2015 I have had the pleasure of being a part of something much greater than myself. Something so many have poured their heart and soul into. It was a difficult conclusion to come to that full-time motherhood is calling. I will remain in the Lansing area and plan to stay connected. I want to express my deep gratitude for the Co-op providing space for their workers to become parents. As a breastfeeding mother, it would have been nearly impossible for me to sustain work without an employer that made space for children. Flora and Loey are products of both literal and figurative cooperation. I thought of sharing anecdotes of members throughout my time, but hundreds of names immediately come to mind. And Lord knows I'm long winded as Chicago so don't get me started. Have coffee with me sometime, instead. And yeah, I guess I also mean you, Team Tea. Please know it was a daily joy to work with and for you to manage and improve the Co-op. This organization exists today because of the dedicated efforts of many, and tireless efforts of a few. Please honor that work by loving your housemates, caring for your home, and leaving it better than you found it. The Co-op depends on that for survival. After 6+ years experience, here are some words of cooperative wisdom: -Take a deep breath and talk to them. -Don’t get a dish cam. -Start a meal plan. Eating together even just once a week gives you a different organized space to share and build rapport. Leave tough decisions and business for House Meetings. -Document all collective decisions in your House minutes (please). -Invite your alumni back for coffee -Hold (consensual) hands I hope I have left the framework that upholds member services stronger than where I found it. I hope that you continue to learn together through trainings and workshops. I hope you continue to share skills and trade knowledge. I hope you take the time to learn and appreciate the stories that have played out within the walls of these homes. Contribute to or start a House scrapbook. I hope you reach out, connect with, and are energized by co-operators here and elsewhere. I hope the Co-op changes you as much as it has changed me. Bloom where you are planted. July 12th will be my last “official” day in the Co-op Office. I’d love it if you came by. From the deepest cavern of every chamber in my heart, thank you for caring for me, caring for the Co-op with me, and more so for caring for one another. Love, Nola
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Spartan Housing Cooperative Pine Press 25 June 2021
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