Philip Gulley

Indianapolis Monthly received 14 finalist nominations in the City and Regional Magazine Association’s annual national awards competition.

Headaches are wonderful.

The thrill of motorcycling is the point, the counter-narrative to the bubble-wrapped life of modern America.

Anniversaries may be an odd occasion to celebrate, but any reason to spend time with my wife is a good one.

In my dream, I pass the day writing and reading, then enjoy the dinner my wife has thoughtfully prepared and carried up the hill to me. (It is a dream, after all.)

“I suppose even the exhilaration of preaching in a cowboy hat would wear thin after a while. I could try it and see, but even Quakers have their limits.”

“Charley has only one set of Case kitchen knives, so I might have to buy them before the 23rd to make sure no one else snatches them up. Otherwise, my wife will be getting a garden hose.”

“In my early years, my father cooked the Thanksgiving turkey on a Weber grill in our barn, a deeply spiritual experience for him.”

“The pendulum will swing to the center, the rumors of democracy’s death will have been exaggerated, and we can return to obsessing about the Kardashians. This is my dream.”

“This was back in the days when nuns wore habits, before they got sneaky and went undercover, dressing like the rest of us to blend in and catch us sinning.”

“I’m not sure when bungee cords were invented, but they weren’t around when I was a kid, and I think my life would be pretty meaningless without them.”

“I make it a point to encourage others to be helpful, especially when it gets me out of a really disagreeable task.”

“It occurs to me that nations are a lot like families: Without fresh and diverse infusions of genes, the strain weakens.”

“That Kelsea decided to get married in Danville and not Georgia makes me love her all the more, but then I always look favorably upon people who save me from driving a thousand miles.”

“I tell my nephew and his friends the story of My Great Hike often, hoping they might be moved by my dogged determination. Truth be told, though, I sense in them a disdain for my story, as if it were made up.”