Five years ago, when we looked at the Twin Cities publication scene, one of the things that struck us was the editor’s column in the front of the various mags. Almost without exception, each month’s installment would feature a list of all the cool things they’d done that month. There was the businessperson they’d lunched with. There was the trip with the wife. There was an inventory of stuff they’d bought from their advertisers.
At The Rake, we were determined to differentiate ourselves. Our columns would be thoughtful, significant. We would talk about intellectual issues, not about the society folk we ran into that month. We’d write essays, not snippets.
Sorry, but to hell with that. It’s two weeks ’til Thanksgiving, I’ve got a lot to be thankful for, and you’re going to have to bear with me for the next six hundred words or so.
First, though it may be trite to say so, I’m thankful for my parents. The best thing a parent can teach a child is right and wrong, and I can imagine no better teachers than my parents. My dad sold insurance—still does, in fact, at age 84. Every morning, he got up, got dressed, had a glass of water for breakfast, and was at his office before 7. He never avoided a household task and openly enjoyed hands-on projects such as refinishing the basement, building furniture, and rewiring lamps. When I was interested in something, he’d teach me, but he didn’t force it on me if I wasn’t. Although he was a decorated veteran of World War II, he taught me that all reasonable people should hate war.
My mother is Motherhood personified. She made sure the clothes were clean, the lawn got mowed, our homework was done, and we got to the dentist. She kept in touch with the family as it dispersed and still writes letters, by hand, every week. All family members get cards on their birthday, anniversary, Valentine’s Day—you name it. Mom also made sure we got to church, which for three boys seemed like punishment for all the fighting she’d had to put up with during the week. But the church, too, was instructive. There was no dogma. Every week we were read the epistles and the gospel, and those were followed by a short explanation from the priest. It wasn’t an oppressive religion; it was sort of like dinner at our house. Mom never made us eat all our vegetables, and she never made us swallow the church whole, either.
I won’t bore you further with all I’ve learned from my wife and partner and my two perfect children other than to say they never let me get away with anything, yet always prick my balloon with humor rather than the pique I’m sure they often feel.
I’m particularly thankful this week that I was born in the United States. Whatever your politics, most Americans respect the process and recognize the great gift of free speech and free press that—ideally, at least—informs our debates and ensures the good sense of Americans eventually wins out. The best news of the recent election is not that one side won and the other lost; it’s that the politics of fear and suspicions of other Americans has been pushed back, at least for now.
I’m thankful I get to work in an industry where no government inspector can tell us what to do. I’m grateful that this industry is best represented by the reporters who are relentless in their search for true stories, despite their constriction by some corporate editors. Please don’t be discouraged, friends.
Finally, there are all the friends we’ve made over the last five years of publishing The Rake. The subjects of our stories, our clients, our freelance writers, and our readers have supported what we’re trying to do beyond all of our expectations.
Our staff makes it easy to come to work. Everyone puts his or her best effort into this magazine every day. They work very long hours. They suffer criticism of an impatient boss who doesn’t always think before he opens his mouth. But most of all, they laugh. This office is loud with laughter at least a couple of times every day. Sometimes I have to close my office door to drown it out. But mostly, I revel in it.
Thanks for reading The Rake. Next month, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled lineup of sarcasm.
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