A Rush baby explains her delight in learning from Limbaugh

Nicole Russell:

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.
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There is more.

Some of Rush's biggest fans are women although there is still some resistance in that area.  Listening to Rush is a form of entertainment with a purpose.  I get where I look forward to hearing his take when big events are happening especially.  The left, of course, hates him because they believe he persuades people that they and whir policies are wrong.  That is probably one of the things they are right about.  It is one of the reasons I like him.

I wish Rush a return to good health.  I know he is a fighter.  It was a little less than a year ago that I was fighting for my life.  I spent five weeks in a hospital and literally had to learn to walk again.  I hope Rush can persevere.