Reflections FROM THE PUBLISHER
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hose who read this column with any regularity already know that Country Roads got its start in St. Francisville. For nineteen years after 1983—the year my mother-in-law started a magazine about things to do between Natchez and New Orleans—it all came together in West Feliciana, initially from the dining table of Dorcas’s farmhouse, then after 1995 when my wife and I came on the scene, from various office spaces around St. Francisville. Then in 2002, we made the decision to move the mountain to Mohammed, so to speak, by relocating Country Roads’ headquarters to Baton Rouge. Moving to the city would bring us closer to more of the readers, advertisers, and subscribers that our little company was working hard to reach. And with our team having grown from three to ten, it seemed reasonable to assume that we’d be better able to attract bright young minds to our publishing enterprise if based in a capital city with a major university. Granted, by moving the business, Ashley and I had consigned ourselves to a two-hour daily commute. But hey, we told ourselves. We’re young! It’s not a bad drive! Gas is cheap! And besides, we had lots of friends in Baton Rouge. How hard could it be?
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Time flies when you’re having fun. During the twenty years that followed, based out of downtown Baton Rouge and working with a small cadre of smart and wonderful people, we produced some 240 issues of Country Roads, developed the magazine’s digital presence, launched weekly and monthly digital publications, and started and grew the Country Roads Supper Club and the St. Francisville Food & Wine Festival. All while schlepping a hundred miles a day, back and forth between the office and that farmhouse in the far northern reaches of West Feliciana parish that we still call home. When our kids were born, they commuted to work with us. When they started school in St. Francisville, we’d drop them off on the way, tying ourselves into ever more complicated logistical knots to juggle work with the logistics of after-care, homework, school sports, music lessons, doctor’s appointments, and all the rest. As time went by, the commute between our two worlds came to represent various things: a burden, a solace, a refuge, and an escape. But always it was a commitment, an immutable fact of life—just the cost of doing business that enabled our team to gather, collaborate, be creative and connected and effective. Or so we thought. Then came COVID-19. And everything. Just. Stopped. Like almost every business, in March 2020 the Country Roads office closed and we all went home, scattering to various corners of the com-
A P R 2 2 // C O U N T R Y R O A D S M A G . C O M
Photo by Raegan Labat
pass to figure out what this Zoom thing was all about. Months went by, and our little team settled into a strange, new, remote working reality, setting up home offices and learning how to collaborate effectively across space and time. Two years later, with our staff now comfortably ensconced in living rooms and home offices in Lafayette, New Orleans, Alexandria, St. Francisville, and North Carolina as well as Baton Rouge, the issues keep coming out on time. And you know what? I don’t think we’re going back. So, when better than in a “Road Trip” issue to announce that Country Roads is going (okay, staying) remote? Coming full-circle, Country Roads’ global headquarters returns to St. Francisville—this time operating out of a funky little cabin behind the Magnolia Café, where Ashley and I log on each morning to connect with a team dispersed throughout the region the magazine covers. Sure, there are things we miss about spending
our days together. The in-person brainstorming sessions, the deadline-day potlucks, and end-of-week drinks. But in their place come different opportunities. Having team members scattered all over the region enables Country Roads to better reflect all of the communities in which we live. When we do get together, which we make a point of doing every couple of months, it’s an occasion to celebrate and an opportunity to re-set priorities. During the ten additional hours that Ashley and I have gained, a variety of eccentric new pastimes have flourished. Ashley’s garden has never looked better. Unbelievably, the fifty-year-old Johnson outboard that I’ve been trying to get running for years is now purring like a kitten. Best of all: the absence of the daily commute makes it possible to relish a road trip again. This month I enjoyed every minute of my research trip to Mustang Island on the Texas Gulf Coast (“(De)Touring Mustang Island,” page 41), which restored my faith in the old adage about life being a journey rather than a destination, and left me looking forward to getting back on the road in pursuit of the next story. As Country Roads gets ready to mark its fortieth anniversary in 2023, having time to relish road trips feels like a change worth making. Because even after all this time, there are so many more stories left to tell. —James Fox-Smith, publisher james@countryroadsmag.com
