Opinion & Columns

Perfectly decent human beings, like me for instance, are made to feel like losers for driving a 1999 Toyota Corolla.

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.

Are people wandering the streets muttering “I wish I had a doughnut,” and a score of doughnut shops appear? Or do the stores come first?

Responses to Philip Gulley’s opinion column

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

I asked Jim if he ever felt like he had betrayed those who believed in his words. I was being as authentic as I could, he said.

The convenience of pulling out a device makes it too easy to snap everything.

Being too concerned about protecting the natural world is like being too concerned about babies. How is it possible to be too concerned?

Given my experience and obvious affinity for Keystone at the Crossing, no one is better qualified to be mayor of the area than I.

“You watch,” I told my wife back then. “The day will come when we’ll curse the person who invented cell phones.” That day is here.

Says Gulley, “A decade ago, I created the little town of Harmony, Indiana, filled it with Quakers, and sent them a pastor named Sam Gardner to see what would happen. The series of novels had a good run, but I wanted to dabble in theology and pursued that genre of writing for a while. I missed Sam and the Harmony crowd, though, and decided to see what they had been up to in the intervening years.”

I live within a 10-minute walk of three craft-beer establishments, including one that made our Best New Breweries list. This is an embarrassment of riches, especially after living in states that, at the time, boasted little beer beyond Bud.

Amid all the chatter surrounding Common Core standards—what education is essential and what is not—I hear a lot about college prep but not enough about prep for life.

Dusty knickknacks were removed from glass-fronted cabinets and plopped down on the living-room floor to await future placement. I took the opportunity to clean and discard. That’s when, after 22 years, I came upon relics stolen by Nazis in World War II.

I have a prediction: Indy will look radically different by its 200th birthday—but not without a few outrageous ideas along the way.