Editors Note

Paging Dr. Salb.

Show me a Hoosier who’s not excited about basketball season and I’ll show you a Kentuckian.

“Disney’s Contemporary Resort—specifically its iconic A-frame tower—was the first hotel to really capture my imagination.”

I had a landlocked childhood.

“Is there any way?” he texted. “Without being creepy?”

Some thoughts on our city as we observe the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s death.

While watching all 92 episodes of Mad Men will certainly teach you something about life, consuming them twice more will teach you something about a lack of one.

“Regarding the chicken-egg question of clinginess, I’ll ruffle some feathers: Overprotective parents are to blame.”

I suffer from crippling bouts of anxiety. I’m also a procrastinator. This may explain why I haven’t visited a doctor in 15 years.

As a writer-editor, I thought I might be able to ascend the family pecking order. And when I recently became editor-in-chief of this magazine, I figured the top spot was all but mine.

“I’ll be stocking up on “317” T-shirts—even though the things I’ll miss most about the city can’t be packed in a moving van.”

I seem to like John Mellencamp more than native Hoosiers do—or at least have a much less complicated relationship with him.

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.

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

In the small towns around Indy, ice-cream stands are more than just purveyors of frozen treats—they’re touchstones, an experience of sticky fingers and bellyaches passed from generation to generation.