Opinion & Columns

He suddenly vaulted from his desk chair to retrieve his open briefcase, which, he explained later, held a loaded gun. What if he hadn’t? What if our kids had discovered the weapon and thought it a plaything? What if?

As a hypochondriac, I make the most of my maladies, describing them to all who listen.

One of my most vivid teen memories involves a Monday-morning pep rally in the Broad Ripple High School gym, after Coach Gene Ring’s Rockets won the sectionals, then regionals, and secured a trip to the 1963 semi-state. As the rock-star players filed onto the floor wearing varsity sweaters, the students in the bleachers went wild. Dressed in our own uniforms of stitched-down pleated skirts and cardigans, my girlfriends and I jumped up and down ’til our eyeballs rattled, screeching like banshees. The rumble was deafening, the kind you can feel way down in your gut.

Concentration is what adult coloring requires, or at least friends—and wine—at the table, like a quilting bee sans a singular goal.

"I don’t think (women) are being specifically excluded. But I don’t think these organizations that are involved in public policy are thinking, Let’s invite women. The other thing is that women don’t have the same level of confidence to go into a place where they want to feel prepared, educated, and ready."

The listing noted that the house was in a “Great Neighborhood!” I’m in that neighborhood, so it’s not all that great.

As you hold the redesigned Indianapolis Monthly in your hands this month, you can clearly see change is afoot—and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

“I think, fundamentally, drivers are wired wrong. At some point every driver will experience something that would give a normal person pause.”

I assume your company has overhead, which is usually covered by revenue from consumers like me. And if enough of them have difficulty similar to mine, you should be concerned.