Opinion & Columns

As a committed downtowner, I like to believe that Indy is the state’s cradle of cool. Sure, Bloomington mounts a serious challenge, and lately I keep hearing surprising things about Fort Wayne, but I never considered Carmel—stylish, yes, but not exactly hip—a hotbed of progressive sensibilities. Yesterday, I had to reconsider. Amid the news that the Indianapolis City-County Council has proposed domestic-partner benefits for municipal employees (28 years after Berkeley, California, became the first American city to do so), the Star pointed out that Carmel already has domestic-partner benefits in place. 

So far, the only downside to diabetes is not being able to eat Cinnabons at the airport.

We’re too lazy for that.

A group of Lucas Oil Stadium visitors shuffled into the Colts’ home locker room, all true-blue carpet and cherrywood shelving, as a middle-aged woman with dark cropped hair posed the question. Our guide gestured to what she called “Quarterback Corner,” the nook where the starter and his backups hang their helmets. Smartphones whipped out, and the 25 of us formed a huddle around the niche. 

We all come from somewhere. My father’s family emigrated from Russia, although Dad was born here—at Methodist Hospital, he was proud to say. His mother and father, I am told, met on the ship and married a short time later.

"When my wife goes back inside for my writing table and the pendulum clock, I might have her grab my grandpa Hank’s fly fishing rod that hangs on my office wall. Plus, there’s my pocketknife collection. I sure would hate to lose those."

“When did the sport coat give way to the sweater?” I asked. “Why did Bobby become Bob?” Questions hardly so nervy as to provoke the explosion that followed.

Reading other people’s bucket lists is fun, but I’ve never had the desire to compile one myself. Risk-takers yearn to climb Mount Everest and sail the blue Pacific, but boring people such as I are satisfied spending their days bundled up in an afghan while watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory and eating Double Stuf Oreos.

The beloved late culinary icon gave this city so much more than what he put on a plate.

There are many things a small town has to offer: friendships, a casual pace not often found in the city, and a feeling of well-being and security no lock can provide. But if you’re looking for privacy, you’re better off in the city, where you can live next door to someone for a dozen years without ever learning their names or knowing anything about them.