I was inspired to schedule date night at Indy’s last-standing drive-in after reading Amy Wimmer Schwarb’s piece on the subject, “Moving Pictures.” Accompanied by photos of outdoor theaters around the state by our own Tony Valainis, the essay explores the importance of these vanishing pieces of Americana—and how the cinemas are fighting to modernize in a world of Netflix and iPads.
Soccer—okay, football—fans still have a year to wait till the city’s new pro team, Indy Eleven, hits the pitch. In the meantime, they’ll get a massive fix of live action when Chelsea FC plays FC Inter Milan at Lucas Oil Stadium on Aug. 1 (FC stands for “football club,” the kind of club that uses a round ball instead of an oval-shaped pigskin by the same name.)
You are widely known for browbeating would-be chefs, but since I am more of a traveler than a foodie, I prefer Hotel Hell, the show on which you visit inns and browbeat the owners. Watching you zip yourself into a sleeping bag atop a questionable bed rather than risk the dirty linens was a hoot, as was seeing you scrunched up, knees skyward, in a too-small tub.
As the narrative goes, Hank the Dog was born in Oklahoma, abused by his original owner, and taken in by some well-meaning soul who had too many dogs already. There is, from what little information I can coax from my reticent son, an Underground Railroad for rescued dogs, and Hank came north to Putnam County, not far from our home.
But the food industry is more than just sales—it’s people. Employment in Indiana’s dining sector is expected to add 23,000-or-so jobs over the next decade. And after a somewhat depressing lull in new restaurants in the latter half of 2012, it does seem that the pace of openings is finally, thank goodness, picking up.
Editor’s Note: Our correspondent, Alex Farris, is a research writer with the Center for Hip & Knee Surgery in Mooresville. As part of Operation Walk, he recently traveled to Guatemala with a surgeon from the clinic, Dr. Merrill Ritter, and agreed to update IM with a series of dispatches. Read the first and second at Circle Citizen. The third installment follows.
Editor’s Note: Our correspondent, Alex Farris, is a research writer with the Center for Hip & Knee Surgery in Mooresville. As part of Operation Walk, he recently traveled to Guatemala with a surgeon from the clinic, Dr. Merrill Ritter, and agreed to update IM with a series of dispatches. Read the first here. The second installment follows.
Editor’s Note: Our correspondent, Alex Farris, is a research writer with the Center for Hip & Knee Surgery in Mooresville. As part of Operation Walk, he recently traveled to Guatemala with a surgeon from the clinic, Dr. Merrill Ritter, and agreed to update IM with a series of dispatches. Here is his first.
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.
The night of the Richmond Hill explosion, my husband and I were sitting on our couch, 10 miles north of the southside neighborhood. It was just after 11 p.m. when we felt the house shudder. “What was that?” I asked, and we guessed that the dog had knocked into something upstairs; I even got up to check on him.
I was hiking in the woods this past fall and stepped on a snake. It was an Inland Taipan, the most toxic snake in the world. One bite can emit enough poison to kill 250,000 mice, or 100 humans—provided they’re not obese, in which case it would only kill 50 or so. It is a shy reptile, once found only in central Australia. But due to global warming, it is now found in Orange County, Indiana, where I stepped on it.
Over the last couple of years, I have seen, in person, the following performers: Willie Nelson, Tony Bennett, Joan Rivers, Jackie Mason, Garrison Keillor, Candice Bergen, Bill Cosby, Angela Lansbury, and James Earl Jones. Common among these celebrities is “maturity,” and, pardon the insensitivity, plenty of it. In fact, rough math indicates that their combined age approximates the 700-year-old mummy recently discovered in China.
