08/05/2025
Lori Cannon’s legacy feels immeasurable. We at Ginkgo are honored that we got to be part of it. We are heartbroken by her loss, but inspired by her life.
“Lori taught me that it’s not just about vegetables and nutrition. It’s about dignity and beauty,” said John Cahill about the following story.
One day, it was a Saturday work day, the day when we harvest all the produce and donate it to the food pantry, we had more volunteers than tasks. I asked a volunteer to make bouquets from whatever flowers she could find around the garden. I told her that I have no aesthetic eye and feel bad for the poor people who receive my bouquets. She went about the garden whipping together little bundles of daisies, ground cover, columbine, things I didn’t even know we grew. Single serving bunches just big enough to fit into a water glass all tied with a bow of baling twine.
I topped the boxes of kale, chard, collards, radishes, herbs, and such with her bouquets and took off for the pantry alone. When I got there, there weren’t many clients waiting out front, but I made haste to the back so I could spend time organizing the produce carefully into decorative baskets to entice the clients. Lori, who is not only the sweetest woman on earth, but also the big boss, came to offer me a bottle of water but was distracted by the flowers that I had nearly forgotten.
Her voice low she said, “John, there is a woman out there whose husband is on his last legs. It seems that he won’t be with us by next week, but she is keeping his spirit up. She is really doing an incredible job of supporting him to the end and encouraging him to fight, and I know how much she is hiding from him. Can I take these to her?” I nodded and almost collapsed in tears that I was able to fight off until the train ride back to the garden.
The woman was gone by the time I brought the carts loaded with the harvest out. I hawked the produce and the volunteers at the pantry told me that I was no Vanna White. I looked like a crazy person on the L ride back, with leaking eyes, a sunburn and a large straw hat. As I approached the garden gate, the volunteer who made the bouquets was leaving. I explained where they had gone and this first time volunteer, who was probably just there to spend some time outdoors, lost control of her facial muscles. My eyes welled again and we both tried to smile through twisted mouths and continued on in opposite directions.
Rest in Power, Lori. We will continue to work to help feed our neighbors at GroceryLand and make Chicago a better place in your honor.
