Throughout our dealings in the public sphere, we affect each other. Personalities rub off. Points of view intermingle. And when we've come back to our innermost, it is honest self reflection that gives us the truth: We realize we are a mongrel composite of those with whom we interact, not the self-chiseled, independent island we would like to think.

Of all the relationships in agriculture, this is best seen in the father and son farming partnership. Taciturnity or glibness passes nearly unadulterated from generation to generation. Hardnosed business sense, work ethic and social habits may seem of genetic predisposition but really are the effect of long-standing relationships--spending days, weeks and years alongside a teacher and role model, or in today's business lingo, a mentor.

We recognize it less in other relationships because the mentor and his student rarely share physique or an identifying or peculiar mannerism. But always there is reference back to "my first boss, who taught me that..." or "I couldn't have gotten this far without learning the business from..." These nods to wisdom are revealed just as a young farmer facing a decision might utter, "Dad always said..."

In business, as much as our lineage, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree.

The trouble, I think, is that once we've begun to move out of our mentor's shadow, we don't bother to look back for perspective. We don't bother to acknowledge what we've taken. And we don't stop to say thanks.

I say let us make amends. Don't go sentimental. Just acknowledge that there has been some benefit realized, and offer simple thanks sometime.

Framed in the outlook of an ag reporter, it is the editor whose experience and wisdom are most often absorbed.

For my part, I look back to my cub years at the Missouri Ruralist and first editor, Larry Harper. There may be some irony in mentioning it here in Today's Farmer ink given that this magazine and the Missouri Ruralist have long competed for the attention of the same farmers, but it is an irony that will make Harper grin.

Harper told me once that the best way to shine as an editor was to hire writers with greater talent than his (which made me an aberration), and indeed, the list of ag editors with Missouri Ruralist on their resume is long and exceptional. But at the same time, throughout our working relationship, he encouraged me to look at any other job opportunity that arose. It was his way of reinforcing what he considers to be the immutable rules for being an editor, which are: No. 1; look out for yourself. And No. 2; the foremost job of an editor is to ensure the survival of his magazine. The former isn't craven or selfish advice; it's a simple law of business and commerce that should never be forgotten. The latter is evidence of his belief in the ag publication business and particularly his devotion to Missouri.

Along the way, I observed other, non-spoken, gems that have stayed with me all these years. Writers block is a myth defeated by deadline. Readers respect a publication in which the editor has taken ownership. Editorial control is worth the fight. And when the publisher is buying the drinks, order a double.

But for all the wisdom I picked up along the way, I think a graceful attitude is the trait I make the most conscious effort to emulate. From the first time I walked out the door for an editorial assignment, Harper's parting advice, which he always offered sincerely, was, "Have fun."

Thanks, Larry. We did.