As I’ve lived and traveled around the world, the questions I receive about Indiana are usually the same: where is it (it’s the one right below Michigan), and why on earth do you live there?  I like to say I live here because it’s so flat, I can see my enemies coming for miles.  I say it’s not the kind of place you visit, but rather, it’s the kind of place you live.  I could tell you the cost of living is extremely low, and it is, but that’s not why I live here either.  If you can’t afford to travel, it’s a Hoosier custom to say you’d miss the change of seasons, which occurs on a 10 minute rotating basis.  But you know, I’ve lived in a lot of places, and even Florida has weather.  It travels at about 120 mph and rips the porch right off your house.  Time and time again, Indiana has pulled me home and hugged me tight.  It was just this summer I realized I live here for the people.

If you aren’t from here, you’ve probably heard about “Hoosier Hospitality”, but I can tell you as a native Hoosier, that’s not just a cute quip we put on our license plates; it’s our culture.  The tragedy at the State Fairgrounds last month showed us our heritage in one horrible night.  You may have read or saw videos of the large stage rigging collapsing on fans gathered to see Sugarland in concert, and while it is awful to see, it’s what happened in the moment after that takes your breath.  You would expect screaming and pandemonium, but what is seen in video are hundreds of fans rushing to the accident.  It was like a surreal wave, pushing forward.  Within 20 minutes, Hoosiers had cleared the victims from under thousands of pounds of crushed steel rigging.  Many people died, and it covered our state with grief, because these types of things just don’t happen here.  We’re pretty happy living our quiet lives in moderate ambiguity, knowing that entire portions of the country can’t point to our state on a map.  But many victims were rescued that night, because that’s just who we are.  When people need help, Hoosiers heed the call.  And we rightfully assume, by probably less than 7 degrees, we somehow know you and your family if you grew up in Indiana.

I thought about the State Fair again this week as I drove through Starbucks one morning.  The cashier was giggling, and said, “The man in front of you paid for your coffee.  The person in front of him paid for his.  They wanted to start a pay it forward.  Are you interested?”  AM I INTERESTED?  In throwing great energy out into the Universe?!  You bet!  After I paid for the man behind me, I drove away smiling broadly, wondering how long the game lasted. 10 minutes? 10 days?   It’s Indiana, so it’s hard to say. I laughed to myself, “Hoosiers…such nice people.”  The next day as I was stopped at a red light, I noticed an older gentleman trying to push his disabled minivan into a gas station parking lot.  I planned to drive over and give him a hand, but before the light could change, 3 men had jumped out of 3 different cars, and pushed it for him.  It wasn’t raining or snowing, but I can promise you that fact wouldn’t have changed a thing.  So many times Greg has called to say he’s turning around on his way home to help a stranded motorist, but then he arrived home on time.  Why?  Because by the time he turned around, the motorist already had more than enough helpers.  Yesterday I was walking around my car at the bank, and an elderly gentleman stopped and asked me if I had locked myself out of my car, and did I need help?  I giggled no, I was counting the scratches, because I’d like to have a repair shop estimate touching up my car. It’s Indiana, so we got into a lively discussion about the mileage on our cars and how long we thought they’d last.  Driving fancy new cars isn’t really the fashion in the states “somewhere in the middle”.

We don’t stay here because it’s wildly cutting edge and avant-garde.  We actually stay here because it’s not.  We get way too much weather, and to quote my East Coast Sister-In-Law, “You people must really love corn”.  But while I complain about gray rain and pollen (so, so much pollen), I can’t forget the fact that not only do I know my neighbors, I’ve ALWAYS known my neighbors.  I still keep in touch with my neighbors from my childhood.  I know what’s a-happening on the street where I bought my first home.  I’ve never even lived in Indiana apartments where I didn’t know my neighbors.  And you don’t have to be born here to be a Hoosier.  You just have to be friendly and helpful.  We welcome new comers all the time (unless you are from Ohio, and then there is a lengthy application process).  As we like to say, “You’all are welcome to come over.”

My Indiana Home…I do so love it here, but please don’t go spreading it around.  I don’t want us to get overrun with tourists trying to get a deal on sugar cream pie and Colts gear.

*All photos of Indiana were purchased and licensed through istockphoto.com, in case you thought in my free time this past week I not only took a photography class, but also drove all over my very spread out state, taking quaint pictures.*