I ‘ve never been cool. And not because I think its cooler to not care about being cool. In fact it is the opposite, I really want to be cool.

The fact that I am willing to admit I want coolness is probably one of the reasons why cutting edgeness almost always alludes me.

Growing up, I felt like being in the know was just out of my grasp, cause when I grew up, my best friend was Rachel and Rachel was the definition of total coolness.

In junior high she said cool phrases like

“I’m just hanging out listening to my tape of Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians.

And “Oh this shirt? It’s Vision Street Wear.”

She knew which New Kid was the hottest before anyone ever heard of them, and hated them by time people where fawning over them
This, I learned, was one of the keys to being cool, knowing when to get out.

In high school she mourned the cancellation of My So Called Life. And I kicked myself for not ever seeing it and therefore not being able to be crushed by its departure. I tried to fake it, but I just sounded like one of those pathetic people who said they were at Woodstock , when in reality they were sitting at home not even realizing it was happening. I pretty much realized I would never be on the cool of it all.

And then came 2008. I’m in a playgroup with my kid and one of the Mom’s tells us she is going to be part of a CSA. I had no idea what that meant so I definitely knew I wanted to be a part of it.

CSA’s or Community supported agriculture, is when you can go somewhere once a week and get fresh veggies and fruits (and sometimes other goods) all produced locally and really fresh.

Now, CSAs are everywhere, but three years ago it seemed like they were only in states like Vermont and Oregon, and maybe a few other places that like fresh vegetables and treating gay people like real people.

Sure, in reality it was more wide-spread than that, but on Cleveland ’s eastside CSAs were pretty much non-existent.

I signed on and already I felt myself gaining cool points, though I suppose actual cool people don’t keep score.

Dammit, Deena, get it together.

I picked up my veggies the first week and realized instantly what a big opportunity this was. I couldn’t wait to go home and write nonchalant status updates like “gonna pan-sear some kale tonight, wow these CSA vegetables sure do smell fresh.”

As the weeks went on, I was afraid I was going to blow my one “being cool” shot, and I started to panic on my drives to pick up my vegetables. At the time we had a red Subaru Forrester, definitely a CSA-type car, and the one I wanted to make sure I would be driving, as opposed to our blue Mazda 626, definitely not an “I get my produce in a cool way” type ride.

Once, when pulling in with my windows open, (cause I was embracing our good earth and saving energy.) It occurred to me, I was listening to a Bette Midler CD. I don’t think I’ve ever switched to NPR so fast in my life. I prayed (not to a specific god, of course) that no one heard even a second of The Rose.

And then there was the bag issue. Sure I was recycling Giant Eagle plastic bags by picking up my veggies in them, but using them showed that I actually allowed Giant Eagle plastic bags in my house.” Must find well-worn canvas bags for next week”, I told myself.

The biggest no-no happened as my son and I were about to get out of the car one Thursday. I realized he was in a GAP shirt. “CSA mothers don’t dress their children in GAP”, I chided myself. How is it, we don’t own any hemp clothes, I thought as I carried him out of the car.

And with all this worry, I didn’t even like the vegetables we were getting. You can only get so much kale and swiss chards before a part of you starts to cry every week when picking up the green bunches. The vegetables started sitting in our crisper, untouched week after week.

My husband brought up the point that he could spend the same money at Miles Market every week and get vegetables we actually liked.
Sure honey, but anyone can shop at Miles Market, I thought, But we, we are members of a waiting list only CSA.

As the summer went on, I realized we wouldn’t be re-upping for the CSA next year.

I would have to find other uses for my purposely dirtied canvas totes and my son’s now extensive collections of eggplant and root vegetable t-shirts.

When next year came around and someone’s eyes would light up as they mentioned how they just joined a CSA I would casually say “Oh yeah, I did one of those before. We quit. Just didn’t want that much kale”

You quit? They would ask in surprise.

My uber-cool reply,”Oh no, do you think I should have stayed??”

I guess some of us just aren’t meant to be on the cutting edge.