April Glasco
Second Chance—Last Opportunity
Anyone in need can head to the food pantry hosted every Wednesday and Friday at Second Chance—Last Opportunity (SCLO) in Newtown, Sarasota. Today, there are piles of bread, packages of ground beef, lunch sacks, clear bags pre-packed with vegetables, various boxed snacks and breakfast items, sandwiches wrapped in aluminum, bags of baby carrots, celery, and an abundance of takeaway desserts.
The founder and CEO of SCLO, April Glasco, is here, an easeful beacon of welcome and style who makes jokes with regulars and newcomers alike. The food is laid out on tables in front of the organization’s signature purple building—a vibrant reminder of support on this unassuming corner of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Way and Dixie Avenue. Glasco radiates in kind—wearing the same purple tones (including her nails and mask!)—but instead of disappearing into the background, she animates the color and brings it to life.
She is, in fact, the living heart of the place. She exchanges banter with client Devon Hill while helping him pack up some food to take home. Glasco can always be found outside in the service area on Wednesdays and Fridays. She likes to be there to see how folks are doing.
“You have to have a relationship with all people so you can have a better understanding with the people you’re serving,” she says. That level of community presence helped to clarify and enable a successful emergency response. Being a long-standing and well-trusted community resource offering counseling, life skills, job programs, and more means that SCLO is uniquely situated to recognize and respond to crisis.
Children were the first to say they were hungry. When the local schools closed in reaction to COVID-19 in March 2020, kids—left without a guaranteed school lunch—came around to this trusted organization to voice their need. They were fed that same day. In rapid progression this 26-year-old organization went from closely mentoring, supporting, and supplying food for 12—20 clients in their educational program to adding on a fully functioning food donation program that regularly serves 800 families.
Some drove from as far as Parrish or North Port not only for food but for other necessities. From March 2020 to March 2021, SCLO served 80,000 people. Stephen Zenuh worked with La Mucca Ballerina to consistently serve pizzas and lasagna. Natasha Menke, owner of The Serving Spoon, donated and served much-loved hamburgers (with pickles, baked beans, potato salad, potato chips), along with baked chicken, shepherd’s pie, and more.
Glasco takes a call in the office. There’s a client in need. A volunteer shares admiringly that Glasco “treats everybody with the same amount of respect. She’s got—what do you call it?—simpatico.” Her joy for helping others is infectious and grounded in experience. She’s as connected to Newtown as she is to the larger Sarasota community. Organizing the massive surge of help into the smooth operation that you see today took inventiveness, adaptability, and trust (along with a new data system!).
More than 75 groups, individuals, and businesses showed up over the past year to partner with SCLO. Glasco has honored their work with a “Creative Expression Award, because we all had to be creative,” she laughs. Some of those being recognized for the art of emergency food service include The Serving Spoon, La Mucca Ballerina, several residents from Long Boat Key, The New Sarasotans Club, the Rotary Club, St. Armand’s Key Lutheran Church, and many more.
Everyone you ask about Glasco speaks highly of who she is and what she does and it’s no wonder. “You have to see how she works with people,” says one admirer. She has the skills to pull a person aside, find the best way to support them, or simply be with them while holding a vision for what’s possible on the other side of their circumstance.
She developed a mantra specific to her clients experiencing domestic abuse: “I am that I am,” to help women remember that they are strong, brilliant, and powerful.
“It doesn’t matter what the situation is or how bad it is,” she notes. “What matters is that you’re able to help that person. It’s the simple small thing that helps a person. It’s bigger than you think it is. If it’s food—wow—they can eat,” she says and places a hand over her chest, leans her head back, and looks up to hold back an emotion that takes her by surprise, “they can breathe, they can have hope.”
