Opinion & Columns

You can buy chairs at the drugstore. Granted, the selection consists of remote-controlled lift chairs for the old or infirm, but still. They are chairs, they cost $799, and you can buy them at the drugstore. On my last visit, I was tempted to try one just to see how far it would launch me, but I was afraid someone I knew might see. So I moved on to the “walking sticks”—canes, for crying out loud—and blood-pressure cuffs. Those devices I expect to see at the drugstore, but chairs? That blows me away.

My marriage has been almost 40 years of bliss, no thanks to me.

Some children aren’t satisfied with their names, but I always liked mine: Deborah Lynn Dorman. Or Debra Lynn Dorman—I was never sure, as my birth certificate says “Debra,” and somewhere along the way I decided to use the biblical version because it sounded more romantic. My mother waved away the inconsistency, saying I mattered to her far more than what I was called. Either way, the name had a melodic cadence, and I was proud to say it out loud. And unlike my given name, my surname was certain. Dorman.

Who had Ohio State coming out of nowhere to knock off the highly-touted Purdue Boilermakers Sunday on their Bingo card?

I had been going back to the night of August 13, 2011, time and time again, in quick succession. And I was shaken.

"Charley has only one set of Case kitchen knives, so I might have to buy them before the 23rd to make sure no one else snatches them up. Otherwise, my wife will be getting a garden hose."

I once underappreciated the emotional power of smell, but I've come to my senses.

An oral history of the funniest guy ever to call Indy home.

We all had time to fill, so why not be generous and kind? There were no pressures to impress or lifelong wounds to heal.

As bad as 2021 was, a few Hoosiers renewed Phil Gulley's faith in humanity.