By Nicole Russell
Thursday, February 06, 2020
I grew up in Minnesota, the heart of the Midwest: a blue
state of really nice, hard-working people who love winter, lefse, and Al
Franken. Starting at about 13 years old until college, I worked for my dad, a
successful remodeling contractor, over school breaks.
I hated the work. Often the only female on a construction
site or a hotel in the midst of remodeling, I felt awkward. I got dirty. I
wasn’t good at painting or wallpapering. The hours were longer than anything
I’d ever experienced, and we rarely ate out during the day. (Somehow cold
granola bars just added to the laboriousness.)
I know, I sound like a wimp. I was. I gained great
respect for hard-working men and blue-collar workers during that period. The
only glimmer of happiness in the job was that I got quality time with my dad
and this other guy: Rush Limbaugh, who recently announced he has been diagnosed
with “advanced lung cancer.”
At every job site, the routine was the same: I’d dress in
painters’ clothes, drive to the site with my dad, and along with all the tools
we set up, we plugged in the radio set to AM 1500 KSTP. If memory serves,
Limbaugh didn’t come on until 11 a.m. The next three hours were a respite of
opinion, intellectual stimulation, and philosophical and political concepts I’d
barely thought of yet.
As other workers labored nearby, I forgot the sounds of
construction and my self-pity faded. Over time I started looking forward to
this part of the day more than anything else. Along with the one-on-one time I
had with my dad, three hours of Rush Limbaugh’s ideas, observations, wit, and
humor provided everything I needed for a foundation in conservative thought.
Limbaugh’s quirks grew on me until they became inside
jokes with my dad. The golden microphone. The dramatic paper shuffling. The
cigar smoking. I wondered: When Limbaugh did that sneezing-squeal, was he
laughing, crying, or just old?
Talking from the “Southern Command,” Limbaugh seemed
untouchable, yet so in touch with politics, culture, and what the Everyman
needed to know. His arrogance, sardonic jokes, and disdain for the media
coupled with his cigar smoking had a jerkboy-fraternity-meets-William F.
Buckley appeal.
I couldn’t get enough of how he stripped bare the ideas
Buckley wrote about so that even a young teenager could understand. Between
commercial breaks or callers, I would ask my dad what Limbaugh meant about the
topics he was covering that day: welfare, the media, and liberal ideology.
I’m not exaggerating when I say I learned about core
conservative principles through my dad’s interpretations of Limbaugh’s
monologues and observations of critical news of the day. Later, I developed
these ideas into a more cohesive political philosophy through the influence of
other teachers and reading iconic authors. In college, I minored in political
science—an homage to the “Rush baby” inside.
Limbaugh Created
Comraderie Among Those He Influenced
I began an “adult” life: graduated from college, worked
in politics, started a family, and moved to Northern Virginia, where I met some
of the most influential members of the media and politics working today. I
wrote for The Atlantic, Politico, The New York Times, National Review Online. I
observed something incredible: Limbaugh was right.
He was right about the MSM (“the mainstream media”) he
loathed, elitists, and liberals. While living nearly ten years outside DC, I
observed how mainstream media skewed to the left and that Limbaugh’s
observations were spot-on. One only needs to spend a little time in D.C. or New
York City to see how pervasive leftist rot has become.
Limbaugh’s talking points became my talking points, and I
discovered I could talk to painters or attorneys equally about conservative
ideas. Even if I ended up talking with lawyers who tried cases at the Supreme
Court, I could sort of keep up. Countless hours of Limbaugh’s history
lessons, sharp media analysis, and relentless commitment to conservative
ideals—free market, individualism, religious liberty, small government—were
embedded in my mind.
Whether I met media icons, politicians, lobbyists,
lawyers, or Supreme Court justices, and whether I met them at fancy galas,
fundraisers, the Federalist Society, or Fox News, Limbaugh’s Buckley meets the
common man conservatism proved true over and over. My dad wasn’t the only one.
I wasn’t the only one. There were throngs of us with various skill sets,
different values, and changing priorities, but we all had the same purpose: we
were lovers of liberty.
A Steady Influence for
Decades
A cursory glance at Limbaugh’s career shows how he
touched someone like me as a teenager, along with the likes of Ben Shapiro and
countless others. In 2018, Limbaugh was America’s most-listened-to radio host
and reached a monthly audience of 25 million on more than 650 stations. That
year he was the world’s second highest-paid radio host, reportedly earning
$84.5 million, just behind Howard Stern.
A 2008 Pew Research survey found that Limbaugh drew a
significantly conservative audience, including National Rifle Association
supporters and what was known then as “Tea Partiers” and “Christian
conservatives.” About 37 percent surveyed said they tune in for opinion, but
another 28 percent say they enjoy the blend of news, opinion, and
entertainment. According to a 2009 survey, only 28 percent of Limbaugh’s
audience is female. Even so, I got a kick out of the male-oriented humor. How
not?
Even as Rush spoke to more than 25 million people, it
felt like he was just talking to me. Were it not for his daily show, and
filtering ideas I heard with my dad, I would not have become a political
conservative, a writer, a lover of liberty, and as we say at The Federalist,
anxious for the fray—a sentiment I know Limbaugh would appreciate.
I’ve wanted to write this essay for at least a decade, to
tell people—or maybe just to tell him— how just one person can so powerfully
influence another. Mr. Limbaugh, we the millennial Rush babies thank you. We
wish you healing, grace, mega dittos, and many more cigars. You changed
everything for us.
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