| Sept. 29, 2024
First things first: Things look a little different around here. Our team has been revamping our newsletter suite, adding, redesigning, personalizing and streamlining content. Sunday Reads is probably changing least of all, but some things are worth mentioning. You can now find Doug Moe's articles in the "In the 608" newsletter. In its place, I've added a spot to highlight each print issue's "Book of the Month," a spot to tell you what I'm reading that's not by a Wisconsin author, and some of the book covers in the "Book Bites" section to help you better connect to forthcoming titles. Let us know what you think by filling out the short survey linked at the end of this newsletter. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
These days most of my job as a senior editor at Madison Magazine involves either writing short pieces or working with other people's articles. But a couple of times a year, I get to go deeper with a longform piece like the ones that built my career. Our October issue marks one of those times: I wrote a feature on neurodiversity, specifically adult diagnosis of neurodivergent conditions, which is increasingly common. I know this because of my own friends and family, as well as the "oh my goodness, me, too" notes I got from the people helping produce the article before it was even out. Adults discovering they have autism, ADHD, dyslexia, etc. — it's a thing. And it's fascinating. I'm grateful to the sources who trusted me with their personal stories. In the article, the reporter in me was telling you the who/what/where/when/why of it all. The human in me was saying, Hey, aren't we beautiful?
There's no greater privilege than getting time and space to investigate my own burning questions. To call perfect strangers and ask if they'll share intimate personal details about their experiences to help others. To exhaust professionals and public figures with all of my "what ifs" and "whys," to fully realize that the more I attempt to break something down into digestible bits, the more aware I become of how little I really know. I believe this job keeps me humble on a deeply human level. One of my reporting tricks is to envision my completed article posted somewhere like Reddit and anticipate all of the questions that might come up in comments; what did I miss, what's not being said, what are we all still getting wrong about each other? I believe each of us is a natural-born storyteller and an inherently curious being, and that we're constantly seeking knowledge and understanding because what we want most is connection. How rare and wonderful that I've found a job that meets those needs and allows me to indulge both my analytical drive and my creative impulses. How remarkable that you're here, ready and willing to read with open hearts and minds.
I was also reminded of the importance of this while interviewing Brian Reisinger, author of "Land Rich, Cash Poor," which is a beautifully reported new memoir of his farming family's experience in the driftless region of Wisconsin set against the economic, social, historical and political forces that shaped each generation. I interviewed Reisinger for my monthly web-exclusive author Q&A, which is linked at the bottom of this newsletter. Reisinger's career spans business journalism and public policy and often deals with the rural and urban divide, and we talked about how important it is to have nuanced conversations instead of spouting oversimplified, packaged, divisive talking points, which are never more weaponized than in an election year. It is so easy to fall into us. vs. them, especially when it's by design, but it's a trap — most of us really do want the best for each other. We want our neighbors to be OK. I find myself in disagreements most often when talking about abstract issues, but when those issues are personified and humanized, I suddenly care deeply about people — even when I don't understand them. Maybe we don't have to understand anything except that we are all in this together, despite our different backgrounds, genetics, misbeliefs, fears, values, painfully earned experiences and, yes, uniquely wired brains. Then when I go to the ballot box, I'm not just voting on issues, but on humanity. I'm rooting for all of us.
Maggie Ginsberg is a senior editor at Madison Magazine and author of the novel, "Still True," winner of the WLA Literary Award for Fiction. She curates this monthly newsletter for Madison Magazine. Reach her at mginsberg@madisonmagazine.com. |
