2 days ago
Volunteers, friends vow to carry on work of late Chicago LGBTQ+ activist: ‘We're her legacy'
Bobby Foster sobbed all day Monday, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he'd be back to work the following morning. He has to go on, he said, no matter what.
'If we have to do it with tears coming out our eyes, we gotta do it,' Foster, 57, said.
Tuesday marked Foster's first volunteer shift at GroceryLand, the long-running Edgewater food pantry for HIV-positive people, without the pantry's steadfast linchpin, Lori Cannon. A fixture of LGBTQ+ activism in Chicago and the driving force behind GroceryLand, Cannon died at home Aug. 3 of heart failure, a close friend told the Tribune. She was 74.
Less than 48 hours later, the doors of GroceryLand's 5543 N. Broadway brick-and-mortar stood open, as grieving volunteers returned to do what they had for years done side by side with Cannon: serve the community. They wouldn't have had it any other way, the volunteers said, as they vowed to carry on Cannon's legacy.
'This was her dream,' Foster said. 'This was her goal.'
Born in Ravenswood and raised in West Rogers Park, Cannon established what would ultimately become GroceryLand 37 years ago amid the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s.
Eleven years after AIDS was first reported in the United States, it was the leading cause of death for U.S. men ages 25 to 44. HIV disproportionally affects people in vulnerable populations that are often highly marginalized, stigmatized and criminalized, including the LGBTQ+ community, racial and ethnic minorities, women and girls, drug users and sex workers, according to the World Health Organization.
'I didn't understand what was happening,' Cannon told the Tribune in 2004 of the epidemic. 'But I knew I didn't like it. The horror, the heartbreak we experienced … and no one was paying attention.'
Cannon turned to organizing, becoming an early volunteer for Chicago House, which provides a range of services for people and families affected by HIV, and helped launch the city's local chapter of the national AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power, according to the Chicago LGBT Hall of Fame.
In 1988, Cannon co-founded Open Hand Chicago to deliver meals to people with AIDS. Six years later, Open Hand expanded to food pantries where clients could shop for their own free load of groceries, with the idea that they'd come away feeling more empowered in the process. GroceryLand was born.
Over time, the operation evolved, being renamed Vital Bridges in 2001 and 10 years later, becoming an arm of Heartland Alliance Health, whose parent organization split apart last year amid financial turmoil. In February, Heartland Alliance Health itself was on the brink of closure before receiving a multimillion-dollar donation that saved the organization from shutting down. Still, through it all, GroceryLand remained, with Cannon at the helm.
'Lori Cannon was a true ally in Illinois from her organizing days to founding Open Hand Chicago — she led the way with chutzpah and humor,' Gov. JB Pritzker wrote in a statement to social media recently.
That tenacity was palpable Tuesday, living on through the GroceryLand volunteers and clients Cannon leaves behind.
'We don't know what tomorrow's going to bring or how it's going to turn out,' Foster said as he wiped his eyes, his voice wavering.
Foster initially came to the organization as a client when it was still known as Open Hand, after he contracted HIV at 20 years old. From Florida, he fell in love with Chicago from the moment he saw 'two guys walking down the street holding hands … and it seemed normal to them,' he said.
Cannon gave Foster the 'guidance of the mother that I never had,' he said, sitting in GroceryLand's reception area as clients filtered in and out with canned goods, grains and vegetables in hand. All around, pride flags lined the pantry's walls while overhead, a doll resembling Cannon hung from angel wings, though the effigy had been part of the pantry's decor long before Cannon died as a standing homage to GroceryLand's 'guardian angel,' volunteers said.
'Will it be the same?' Foster said. 'Will we have the same support from the community? She knew so many people. She had so many connections. … Only time will tell. (But) the need is there.'
Chicago artist David Lee Csicsko said he'll be a part of GroceryLand 'until I'm gone.'
For more than 30 years, Csicsko has produced artwork for the pantry to liven the space and turn it into somewhere for not only 'nourishing your body but your mind and your soul and your heart,' he said. 'The constant thing was just making something that makes people smile.' That was important to Cannon, who exuded kindness and humor and knew every client that walked through the door by first name, Csicsko said.
Today, GroceryLand, with the help of some 30 volunteers, serves a few hundred regular clients, volunteer Maria Mavraganes said.
Mavraganes, 60, met Cannon when she was 16 years old, after she and her family, who had owned a restaurant in Lakeview for years, became involved in advocacy efforts early on in the AIDS epidemic, she said. When she retired four years ago, Mavraganes said she formally joined GroceryLand so she could volunteer 'for the community that gave so much to me and my family,' an opportunity she owed to Cannon.
'It's because of Lori and on Lori's behalf that we're all here.' she said.
When client Frank Frasier took a bad fall last year and tore a tendon in his leg, it was Cannon who kept in touch and ensured he'd still receive his groceries, he said. A friend introduced Frasier, a longtime survivor of HIV, to GroceryLand seven years ago, and he's been a client, as well as a part-time volunteer, since.
Cannon had this ability to 'make you feel like you're the most important person in the world,' said Frasier, who lived in Edgewater for 24 years but now lives in the suburbs. 'She never turned anybody away. Never. Whether it was a day's worth of food or a week's worth of food or whatever, even if they weren't a client, she didn't turn them away.'
Frasier said it was always Cannon's hope that someday, GroceryLand wouldn't be necessary anymore. He referenced a 2016 article by the former hyperlocal news website DNAinfo Chicago, in which Cannon was quoted as saying, 'I hope to hang up the shingle on my front door that says, 'We're going fishing, we're closing our doors, the need is not there, it's been a pleasure serving you all.''
Frasier said that dream still stands.
'I don't want (her legacy) to be a dusty plaque someplace. I want it to keep living and breathing. … We're her legacy. The people here,' he paused, choking up, 'are her legacy. Clients, the people working.'
Cannon's 'unwavering commitment to nourishing both bodies and spirits made Vital Bridges a lifeline for thousands,' Tamashiro continued, adding: 'We are profoundly grateful for (her) decades of leadership and love.'
Tamashiro said Heartland Alliance Health is 'taking time to thoughtfully consider next steps for GroceryLand, ensuring that any decisions reflect the care, community and values Lori brought to her work every day.'
Longtime Chicago performer Angelique Munro, who knew Cannon for 16 years, said the focus among Cannon's close network is 'the future of GroceryLand and the LGBTQ+ community' especially amid today's political climate.
Heartland Alliance Health, which relies on federal funding for an estimated 20% to 30% of its annual budget, has been closely monitoring 'proposed changes to federal funding with concern,' Tamashiro said, though he added that the organization is 'on strong financial footing' and 'well-positioned' to continue delivering care.
For the past 15 years, Munro, 55, has held an annual Thanksgiving food drive for GroceryLand to ensure that clients could take home a holiday meal. She plans to keep the tradition going this fall.
Cannon was like a mother to Munro, whose own mother died in 2006, she said. Losing Cannon has 'shattered' her, but 'we just have to continue on,' she said, 'because that's what she would want. … It's all about honoring her and keeping her memory alive.'
On that Tuesday afternoon, Derrick Fox walked towards GroceryLand with a black suitcase rolling behind him on the sidewalk. 'Are they servicing today?' the 63-year-old asked.
Fox, of Englewood, met Cannon when GroceryLand opened and is 'living witness to what (the pantry) has done for us by way of Lori,' he said.
'I'm a longtime survivor,' he said. 'And I'm a longtime survivor because of her.'
