My last blog post had some disparaging remarks in it regarding this area of the country, our fair city in particular. I had not made the remarks but some pollster or trender or someone felt it would be a good thing to make some lists pointing out the worst of the worst. Our little town featured in the top ten of a couple of the lists. I want to say more about that...because I think often that those kinds of remarks can lead to self-fulfilling prophecies and mostly they can be motivated by mean-spiritedness....and real ignorance...stupidity....dumbness.
And so the question hanging in the air becomes, "What is good about southern Indiana?"
I am not a native but an implant...or sub-plant...or immigrant. We moved here because the kids moved here and took the grand children with them. We had fine schools and churches in our old area of Ohio but no, the grand children had to go live with their parents. Who wrote the book on that?
Anyway, digression over...there are many things that recommend this area to the casual observer, all of which have been overlooked by those with nothing better to do than to create the "Ten worse...." lists. Shame on them.
There is a dandy zoo here with an Amazonian Rain Forest that showcases wild animals from all around the equator, Amazonian being an adjective and not pertaining to a country in particular. Seven hundred animals are showcased, from six continents on this 50-acre site.
If you like to gamble there is a waterfront casino. If you want to lose big money, not too far up the road is a huge (not exaggerating) old hotel with another casino nearby.
Our library system is top-notch as a center for learning and has been progressive in the technology required for modern-day informational research.
Two local universities ranked high in many academic fields add to the level of intelligent citizenry.
A world-class symphony provides the highest level of music and dance.
First class theater arrives in season.
Children's theaters give the youngest residents a chance to shine on stage.
Local community theatres provide the same opportunity for adults.
The area is one of the first stops for national restaurant chains to showcase new menu items and for new restaurants to be unveiled, several dozen last year alone. No they did not all make it but provided great cuisine, or at least fun, for the short-term.
A world class arena, Ford Center, offers top-name performers and performances.
Two hours, or less, away one can find St. Louis, Louisville, Indianapolis, and Nashville. We sit right smack dab in the middle of the four of them. Why borrow big city problems when you can get all the benefits with none of the hassle yet be a short drive from any of them?
A six mile 'greenway' winds its way through the city. Soon it will attach itself to the river walk in a neighboring county to increase the enjoyment of living on the river. Forty two miles of trails are available throughout the city.
Two major medical centers provide the finest health care for residents. A designated Heart Hospital, Women's Hospital, Children's Hospital, Cancer Center, Trauma Centers and top-notch orthopedic services are only minutes away from any resident.
Right in the middle of town there is a 300-acre nature reserve and recreation area. We boast of 13 historic districts, five museums, 65 parks and 21 recreational areas.
One of our high schools is ranked in the top ten of all high schools in the country.
Our waterfront is the permanent home of USS LST 325 (Landing Ship Tank) used during World War II, an Arctic expedition and by the Greek navy.
The Fall Festival is the largest street festival in the country. Brain sandwiches (a local crowd pleaser), puppy chow, and every imaginable kind of fried food is featured.
We've got horse racing, drag racing, ice hockey and baseball plus the university teams. We've got the Fantasy of Lights during the holidays and more churches than you can shake a stick at.
The more I add to this list the more curious I become about what those pollsters were thinking when they named us to the most miserable places to live list. This is a grand community. I suppose it's all in your perspective. You look for the negative, focus only on the unfavorable, you can find it anywhere. This is what I often accuse the media of doing, zeroing in on one aspect of a story or event and with bias that they sometimes if not often cannot recognize, claim they have reported both sides of the story. For our little city, to be put on a negative place to live list shows great bias, limited knowledge of life here and mean-spiritedness.
Take that, Business Insider.
And that's what I think about it.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Friday, June 7, 2013
Our Family Graduations and other random stuff
All at once, within a year, six of us have graduated. Perhaps there might have been a surprise or two in the list, but finish strong we did.
Oldest grand daughter, Brittany, graduated from the University of Southern Indiana with her degree in Social Work. Then last summer youngest daughter Lola graduated from Indiana University with her master's degree in library science. Then this Spring second oldest grand daughter Taylor graduated from Milligan College with her degree in elementary education. Then me...the very oldest in the family, finally achieved what I didn't even know was a dream of mine, I graduated from Lincoln Christian University and Seminary with a doctorate degree in ministry. A week later twin, and youngest, grand daughters graduated from Harrison High School. Just today they have enrolled at Indiana University and have their schedules for Fall.
Yikes! Where did the time go?
I have not figured out why our family likes to learn or what draws us to academia. Is that something in the genes? Nature? Nurture?
The minute after I had finished my oral defense of my research and knew that I indeed was going to graduate, I sat at Bob Evans across from my husband. The first thing out of my mouth was, "I now have no goals for my life." "Dr. Wife" does have a nice ring to it.
On other notes, life in southern Indiana has been a little more exciting since the publication of a couple of "10 most..." lists.
In the first poll, Evansville ranked Number One. Uno! Ein! We win the prize for being number one on the most obese city in the country poll. Yes, that is right; not the state but the whole thin country. We are Number One.
As if that were not enough to keep the Chamber of Commerce up at night with their advertizing agency, the second poll put us at number seven...we couldn't even break the top five on this poll...on the Ten Most Miserable Places to Live in the Country. Again, not the most miserable in the state of Indiana but the whole darn country. You want misery? Move to southern Indiana.
Both of these polls seem mean-spirited. We probably also have more meth labs than other cities of comparable size. We might break into the top ten on that poll, too. And perhaps we have fewer junkers on the roads and more up on blocks in front yards than other cities.Has anyone counted the number of teeth per adult? Or asked why the libraries have more graphic novels than biographies?
What good are these polls? Most of us didn't know we were living in miserable conditions until we saw the poll. And then, why yes, we did start to notice that some things just weren't right.Our ignorance was shattered by pollsters who, now that most of the elections are over, have to make a living.
And that's what I think about it.
Oldest grand daughter, Brittany, graduated from the University of Southern Indiana with her degree in Social Work. Then last summer youngest daughter Lola graduated from Indiana University with her master's degree in library science. Then this Spring second oldest grand daughter Taylor graduated from Milligan College with her degree in elementary education. Then me...the very oldest in the family, finally achieved what I didn't even know was a dream of mine, I graduated from Lincoln Christian University and Seminary with a doctorate degree in ministry. A week later twin, and youngest, grand daughters graduated from Harrison High School. Just today they have enrolled at Indiana University and have their schedules for Fall.
Yikes! Where did the time go?
I have not figured out why our family likes to learn or what draws us to academia. Is that something in the genes? Nature? Nurture?
The minute after I had finished my oral defense of my research and knew that I indeed was going to graduate, I sat at Bob Evans across from my husband. The first thing out of my mouth was, "I now have no goals for my life." "Dr. Wife" does have a nice ring to it.
On other notes, life in southern Indiana has been a little more exciting since the publication of a couple of "10 most..." lists.
In the first poll, Evansville ranked Number One. Uno! Ein! We win the prize for being number one on the most obese city in the country poll. Yes, that is right; not the state but the whole thin country. We are Number One.
As if that were not enough to keep the Chamber of Commerce up at night with their advertizing agency, the second poll put us at number seven...we couldn't even break the top five on this poll...on the Ten Most Miserable Places to Live in the Country. Again, not the most miserable in the state of Indiana but the whole darn country. You want misery? Move to southern Indiana.
Both of these polls seem mean-spirited. We probably also have more meth labs than other cities of comparable size. We might break into the top ten on that poll, too. And perhaps we have fewer junkers on the roads and more up on blocks in front yards than other cities.Has anyone counted the number of teeth per adult? Or asked why the libraries have more graphic novels than biographies?
What good are these polls? Most of us didn't know we were living in miserable conditions until we saw the poll. And then, why yes, we did start to notice that some things just weren't right.Our ignorance was shattered by pollsters who, now that most of the elections are over, have to make a living.
And that's what I think about it.
Friday, May 17, 2013
My recollection of Dallas Willard
On May 8, 2013 a very fine man, theologian and prolific writer, died. Scholar and professor emeritus at UCLA, I met Dr. Dallas Willard in Chicago a few years ago.
The group I was with, a senior leadership group from a church, were at Trinity International Seminary for a leadership conference. We had struggled to put together a purpose statement for our congregation in Ohio and had taken the trip to Chicago to let that work mull around in our heads and simmer into a great stew.
In our self-elevated status of big-time church leaders, we were still uncertain that we had nailed down the purpose of this particular church. Because of our insecurity on the one hand and great confidence on the other, we decided we should ask Dr. Willard, who was a presenter at the conference, to meet with us and get his reaction to our work.
Somehow I was appointed spokesperson to go find Dr. Willard and ask him to meet with us.
Around lunch time on one of the conference days I saw him making his way across campus. I waited for him on the cafeteria steps. He came closer to the building, not hurried, seeming to be in conversation, or in deep listening mode, to an unseen friend. As he came to the steps of the cafeteria doors I addressed him, "Dr. Willard?" not wanting to interrupt his thought process.
He looked up at me with great expectation and a smile, like I was the very person in all the people on the whole earth, that he was waiting to visit with. I asked him to meet with our staff and he said he looked forward to that the next day. So easy.
The next day I was surprised at the level of expectation that abounded within the staff. The very respected, educated, sought after theologian, whose writings were looked forward to with great expectation in the Christian world, was coming to meet with us. US! Like we were real people. Well, we all felt like we had arrived...somewhere...and were pretty proud of ourselves for having scored an interview with the great doctor.
And so, after breakfast the next day, our senior guy laid out our purpose statement for the church and the rationale behind it to Dr. Willard, who asked that we call him Dallas. Our guy was eloquent but, I could tell, nervous.
After the short presentation, we waited in hushed expectation for Dr. Willard to react. Would he help us tweak the statement? Add something to it? Tell us we really should start fresh? After a few moments of silent reflection Dr. Willard looked at each of us and said, "I think you've got it." Nothing more.
Here's the life lessons I took away from this encounter:
-the really great person will not have to justify his/her greatness by telling you what you need to change.
-the really humble person will not have to elevate him/herself by words upon words.
-the really memorable person will be the one who gently comes into your life and leaves a wisp of a trail when he/she leaves.
-the really extraordinary person will make you feel like you are special, worthy and competent.
I want to be like Dr. Willard. Not dead, of course, but a person who leaves positive footprints on the hearts of those I encounter. And that's what I think about it.
The group I was with, a senior leadership group from a church, were at Trinity International Seminary for a leadership conference. We had struggled to put together a purpose statement for our congregation in Ohio and had taken the trip to Chicago to let that work mull around in our heads and simmer into a great stew.
In our self-elevated status of big-time church leaders, we were still uncertain that we had nailed down the purpose of this particular church. Because of our insecurity on the one hand and great confidence on the other, we decided we should ask Dr. Willard, who was a presenter at the conference, to meet with us and get his reaction to our work.
Somehow I was appointed spokesperson to go find Dr. Willard and ask him to meet with us.
Around lunch time on one of the conference days I saw him making his way across campus. I waited for him on the cafeteria steps. He came closer to the building, not hurried, seeming to be in conversation, or in deep listening mode, to an unseen friend. As he came to the steps of the cafeteria doors I addressed him, "Dr. Willard?" not wanting to interrupt his thought process.
He looked up at me with great expectation and a smile, like I was the very person in all the people on the whole earth, that he was waiting to visit with. I asked him to meet with our staff and he said he looked forward to that the next day. So easy.
The next day I was surprised at the level of expectation that abounded within the staff. The very respected, educated, sought after theologian, whose writings were looked forward to with great expectation in the Christian world, was coming to meet with us. US! Like we were real people. Well, we all felt like we had arrived...somewhere...and were pretty proud of ourselves for having scored an interview with the great doctor.
And so, after breakfast the next day, our senior guy laid out our purpose statement for the church and the rationale behind it to Dr. Willard, who asked that we call him Dallas. Our guy was eloquent but, I could tell, nervous.
After the short presentation, we waited in hushed expectation for Dr. Willard to react. Would he help us tweak the statement? Add something to it? Tell us we really should start fresh? After a few moments of silent reflection Dr. Willard looked at each of us and said, "I think you've got it." Nothing more.
Here's the life lessons I took away from this encounter:
-the really great person will not have to justify his/her greatness by telling you what you need to change.
-the really humble person will not have to elevate him/herself by words upon words.
-the really memorable person will be the one who gently comes into your life and leaves a wisp of a trail when he/she leaves.
-the really extraordinary person will make you feel like you are special, worthy and competent.
I want to be like Dr. Willard. Not dead, of course, but a person who leaves positive footprints on the hearts of those I encounter. And that's what I think about it.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
At the YMCA - including my new pet peeve
Three years ago our health insurance provided for free membership at most local fitness spots. I chose the YMCA because it was near-by and I liked what they stood for. And I didn't think I would be bombarded at every turn by skinny women and muscular men clad in the latest in workout clothes. And that is how it happened that I became a member.
The first year I went probably 20 times total starting with the grand tour and quick description and usage of the machines. I walked a little but got discouraged when lapped on the indoor track by an 80-year old using a walker.
My insurance was not impressed although they tried to put a positive spin on my visits to the Y by texting me, "Way to go. Here it is August and you've worked out 12 times. They never asked, nor did I volunteer, whether I worked out or, as it mostly turned out, sat in the lobby drinking the free coffee commiserating with sweaty folks about how good this was doing us.
Now we are in the fourth month of year three.
I can't even give you a reasonable explanation of why the following has happened, however, I have been to the Y already this year a total of 75 times. Yes, you read that right. I'm sure the health insurer thinks I'm sharing the membership card with several fit friends but if they knew me they would know I am not that generous. All these visits are mine.
It started at Christmas when, for some totally still unknown and bizarre reason, I asked my husband for a personal trainer for a gift. Not one that would live with us, but one that would meet with me regularly and plan a personalized program just for me. My gift's name is Laura.
After getting started with Laura, I enrolled in a swim class that meets three times a week. So I would go to the Y, work out Ala Laura and then work out in the pool. That's what I was doing just before sitting down to write this blog.
Now to my pet peeve.
The machines at the YMCA get a lot of use, have a lot of turn-over. In the space of an hour, ten or more people could cycle through on one machine. That's why we are provided with hand towels. That is why there are bottles of spray disinfectant attached to nearly every other machine. We are to spray down the machines after each use.
But alas, some of those bottles of disinfectant are as full at the end of the day as they were at the beginning.
Why, you ask?
Because some people think 1) their mothers will follow them around cleaning up after them, 2) because they are staff or personal trainers they are exempt, 3) because they are not very sweaty they are exempt, 4) because they are just to darn important to mess with cleaning up after themselves and the Y should be grateful for their membership money, 5) no one told them, 6) no one demonstrated, 7) everyone knows their sweat is not full of germs like everyone else's and the list could go on.
The Y is one of the dirtiest places I go to voluntarily, and that includes some restaurants I frequent, but don't get me started.
And so I have had email conversations with Y personnel. They agreed it is a problem. They promised prompt action. I'll let you know the end of this story. In the meantime I will simply act as a mother and spray down the machines before, and after, I use them. I will warn those who start to use a machine if it has not been cleaned. I will clean off machines that I am not using if I see they have been abandoned germy.
And that's what I think about it.
The first year I went probably 20 times total starting with the grand tour and quick description and usage of the machines. I walked a little but got discouraged when lapped on the indoor track by an 80-year old using a walker.
My insurance was not impressed although they tried to put a positive spin on my visits to the Y by texting me, "Way to go. Here it is August and you've worked out 12 times. They never asked, nor did I volunteer, whether I worked out or, as it mostly turned out, sat in the lobby drinking the free coffee commiserating with sweaty folks about how good this was doing us.
Now we are in the fourth month of year three.
I can't even give you a reasonable explanation of why the following has happened, however, I have been to the Y already this year a total of 75 times. Yes, you read that right. I'm sure the health insurer thinks I'm sharing the membership card with several fit friends but if they knew me they would know I am not that generous. All these visits are mine.
It started at Christmas when, for some totally still unknown and bizarre reason, I asked my husband for a personal trainer for a gift. Not one that would live with us, but one that would meet with me regularly and plan a personalized program just for me. My gift's name is Laura.
After getting started with Laura, I enrolled in a swim class that meets three times a week. So I would go to the Y, work out Ala Laura and then work out in the pool. That's what I was doing just before sitting down to write this blog.
Now to my pet peeve.
The machines at the YMCA get a lot of use, have a lot of turn-over. In the space of an hour, ten or more people could cycle through on one machine. That's why we are provided with hand towels. That is why there are bottles of spray disinfectant attached to nearly every other machine. We are to spray down the machines after each use.
But alas, some of those bottles of disinfectant are as full at the end of the day as they were at the beginning.
Why, you ask?
Because some people think 1) their mothers will follow them around cleaning up after them, 2) because they are staff or personal trainers they are exempt, 3) because they are not very sweaty they are exempt, 4) because they are just to darn important to mess with cleaning up after themselves and the Y should be grateful for their membership money, 5) no one told them, 6) no one demonstrated, 7) everyone knows their sweat is not full of germs like everyone else's and the list could go on.
The Y is one of the dirtiest places I go to voluntarily, and that includes some restaurants I frequent, but don't get me started.
And so I have had email conversations with Y personnel. They agreed it is a problem. They promised prompt action. I'll let you know the end of this story. In the meantime I will simply act as a mother and spray down the machines before, and after, I use them. I will warn those who start to use a machine if it has not been cleaned. I will clean off machines that I am not using if I see they have been abandoned germy.
And that's what I think about it.
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