With all the chaos of Superstorm Sandy, I can’t help but think how glad I am to live in Indiana. And that’s saying something, as I am not a native Hoosier. In fact, 15 years ago I had a terrible fight with my husband for dragging me to this, and I quote, “Godforsaken hellhole.” (Turned out I was six weeks pregnant and raging with hormones. Oops. Sorry, Doo!) The point is, people, I have come to appreciate this fine state for many reasons, not the least of which is the absence of hurricane-blizzards. Indiana may be lacking my home state’s deliciously sinful trifecta of bourbon, horseracing, and tobacco, but it’s still good for a few things.
Like corn. I have never tasted more glorious corn than the freshly picked summer variety from Indiana’s farmland. Add copious amounts of butter and salt, and you have yourself a little slice of heaven. Sure we have one of the highest obesity rates in the country, but that’s not because of the sweet corn.
No, that honor has root in another reason I’m starting to love Indiana. Three words: State. Fair. Food. I limited myself to a corn dog, elephant ear and large chocolate shake at this year’s festival, but I so didn’t want to. Turkey legs, fried Snicker bars, sausages on a stick . . . you can’t find that kind of high-fat flavor in just any state, ya know!
And how about sports? Sure, I’m not really in to Indy Car, and I could give a rat’s ass about hockey, but Indiana does have some pretty amazing professional teams and hosted a killer Super Bowl party last year. The college teams will always leave something to be desired (especially since the stupid IU men’s basketball team was ranked ahead of my Louisville Cardinals in preseason polls; whatever) but I suppose they’re adequate enough to give just about everybody someone to cheer for. “Boil up an Irish Hoosier!”
Reason number nine for me liking Indiana (I’m skipping a few here, obviously, but I do have a word limit!) has only dawned on me in the last five years or so: We are within a day’s drive of most vacation destinations. This fact is especially significant when one has four children and a dilapidated mini-van with tenuous air conditioning. Plus, our more rural Midwest location will be perfect when the Zombie Apocalypse arrives. The living dead have to be easier to outrun in a cornfield than in a Manhattan street block, right?
So even though the White River is more like a creek, and we are definitely in the wrong time zone, Indiana is still a great place to live. Peace out.