In my role of publisher, I welcome you with open arms to this November issue of Chronogram, the 143rd since our first, in October of 1993. (I mark this event here, in my address to you, esteemed reader, because we will be celebrating the magazine's 12th birthday with a party on November 16, near our office in Kingston—see ads throughout the magazine for details!).

I also wish to acknowledge here that this and every issue represents the hard work of many people whose impulse to undertake the duties of putting out the magazine flows from a desire to be part of something vibrant, responsive, and creative, and to serve the larger community and that of our readership. If you wonder who these people are, I refer you to our masthead, which enumerates their names, at least (for names alone cannot truly tell you who they are).
The deeper impulse driving the contributions of our staff and freelance contributors came to my attention today as I met with a consultant who helped me analyze and assess the state of the business which is Luminary Publishing. His first observation on viewing our financial data was that, relative to our revenue, we have an unprecedentedly large number of employees. ("But we need all these people!" I cried.) Further, he observed, they aren't particularly well-paid, though this opinion, he qualified, was informed by his experience working with Manhattan-based businesses. Nevertheless, the message hit home. The magazine has attracted a remarkably talented and capable group who could almost certainly secure better-paying jobs with the skills and creativity they possess. Instead they have chosen to work on this magazine for reasons which become evident upon perusing its pages.

Twelve years ago, when I started Chronogram with partner Amara (editor Brian joined us a few years later) I didn't anticipate the magnitude of what the business would become. I fashioned myself a writer and photographer. I was frustrated by too many rejection letters and sought a medium for which no editor could turn my submissions away. But, as happens with many entrepreneurs, the daily needs of running a business took precedence over my creative endeavors. Or perhaps I should say—I have recently come to grips with it—that my creativity was channeled into the art of business. Indeed, as many small-business owners will attest, running a concern requires all the qualities of an artist—willingness to take risks, vigilant ingenuity, and perseverance.

The arising of a coherent culture at Luminary Publishing was a somewhat startling revelation. This occurred about five years into the effort. I saw that the many functions involved in putting out the magazines were being accomplished by others—independent of my own efforts. Like a bird that takes flight from the nest, the business had taken on a life of its own. With this realization came a sense of responsibility. I had a desire to care for these people, to create an environment that had a positive tone and that they felt supported their own values. After all, they were devoting their daylight lives to the endeavor—a true sacrifice. I also saw that the quality of the magazines was a direct reflection of the culture in the business, which is influenced by many factors, of which monetary compensation is but one.

We are inculcated with the notion that a business has the primary purpose of making money for its owners. But I have come to see it as something else, something almost tribal—a group that works shoulder to shoulder not only to feed and clothe its members, but to create meaning in each other's lives. This environment is like a tumbler into which rough stones are thrown and rolled over and over one another. The process is sometimes uncomfortable, but the result is that, while remaining unique, each becomes polished through developing skills, adaptability, and the ability to work with and for others. Whatever meaning a person gleans from the experience can then become available to the world through the work that the business does.

Though I often point in my writing to the evils done by corporate entities, I also recognize that business can be an agent of something useful and good. I will now go so far as to suggest that in this age in which the moribund corporate behemoths falter and fall under the weight of their empty mission statements and hypocritical "core values," it is the small, warm-blooded businesses that will take up some of the slack and create a unique micro-culture that truly serves workers and their communities and fosters the direct interdependence that in general is so lacking.

The annual Chronogram birthday party is a great opportunity to taste that interdependence and further enjoy the community that a local magazine and a local business bring together. In addition to some good partying you can also use the occasion to connect the names on the masthead to the real people, in the flesh! I hope to see you there!

—Jason Stern