Some of my favorite grocery moments have been at co-ops. In the summer of 1998, I would swing by the New Pioneer Food Coop in Iowa City to fill my New Pioneer travel mug with coffee each morning. Over the summer, the green ink from the mug slowly rubbed off onto the emergency brake and the driver's seat, in between which it was wedged. In 2000, I bought bulk rice at the Flatbush Food Coop in Brooklyn, while the local firetruck, emblazoned with its slogan, "Da Pride a Flatbush," pulled out of the firehouse next door. In 2002, I became a cheese expert on my work shifts in the basement of the famous Park Slope Food Coop, learning the difference between Humboldt Fog and Bucheron. In 2008, I loaded up on camping snacks and raw cacao nibs at the Viroqua Food Coop in Wisconsin. In 2011, it was fresh strawberries in the produce aisle of the Willy Street Coop in Madison that caught my eye. Yet here in Chicago, I find myself without any such co-op home. I have longed for it. I have imagined it. And so it's time. Time to join together with those around me who can also imagine the taste of the sweet co-op nectar. It's time, Chicago.