Say a prayer for the common foot soldier, spare a thought for the back-breaking work. Say a prayer for his wife and his children, who burn the fires and still till the earth.

Every Thanksgiving my son and I drive 90 minutes into western Wisconsin to visit the Coon Creek family farm. We buy a heritage turkey or two. They are, hands down, better than store-bought by leaps and bounds. But that’s not the only reason we go there. We go because of Vince and Julie Maro.

They are the salt of the earth. If Chicago was Sinatra’s kind of town, the Maros are my kind of folks. Vince hails from the windy city, so there’s a certain “been there, done that” intensity to his countrified manner that makes the Coon Creek space even tastier. And, the heritage turkey is the most rich and luscious I’ve ever had. My friend Andrew Zimmern gave Coon Creek a shout out a few years ago and now we wouldn’t go anywhere else for our big bird. Is this a paid political announcement? Nah. Full disclosure, we do leave the farm each year with a few squash or vegetables that Vince and Julie throw in, but let’s call them gift with purchase.

I believe that the best of America is anchored in people like Vince and Julie. And, I believe with all my heart that small businesses are what really make this country great. Largely because of the people who run them.

I know hundreds, perhaps thousands of entrepreneurs like Vince and Julie. They’re basically good people, but small business has a way of molding the people who run them, requiring that they work hard, fueled by passion, driven by the constancy of survival (cue Copland). My empathies lay with the “smalls” because there is no safety net, no one to rely upon other than oneself. The customer base tends toward tiny and regional, and many of those who buy become acquaintances and friends. They come for the product and stay for the people.

That, my friends, is pure gold.

Our Coon Creek pilgrimage goes something like this: Julie gives us a big hug, we pick up our turkeys, buy some of her goat milk soap, talk a little Wisconsin football, and then Vince shows us around the new vegetable hothouse or inspects the last autumn remnants of kale or brussels sprouts which we eat fresh off the stalk. It’s always a fantastically sweet and robust treat, unless of course the dogs have peed on them. We greet the “girls”—three Icelandic horses who this day are more than a little annoyed over being penned up, but it’s deer hunting season and Vince doesn’t want to take any chances. We hit the chicken coop and steal eggs from the nests. The hens roaming the yard are barrel-chested, feisty, and their richly colored feathers belie good health. If you’ve never had a farm fresh egg still warm to the touch, well, you should try that sometime.

With government screwing up our lives and making it more difficult to run our businesses, people like Vince and Julie remind me that we need to take extra special care of people like them. As you get down on your knees tonight and wail to the heavens for all manner of mercy, don’t forget to put in a good word for the folks who run small businesses.

Better yet, buy something from them.

Editor’s Note: Gary Johnson is President of MSP Communications in Minneapolis, MN and authors the blog Loose Change.