You know you're from Indiana if . . . - Queue
You know you're from Indiana if . . .|
Or (it's frightening how all this is coming back):
You know you're from Indiana if...
...you ask the cashier for a sack to put your groceries in.
...your idea of a rockin' Friday night is tricking out your pickup with a neon license plate frame and cruising the six blocks around the courthouse over and over and over again for hours.
...you include Bob Knight in your evening prayers.
|Date:||June 18th, 2004 10:42 am (UTC)|| |
Click on the link at the top of the post. It's a Google search. You'll likely get a kick out of the lists on there.
I did indeed. I especially like "if vacation to you means driving through Brown County," as my ex-wife and I used to get excited about this every fall, only to remember when we got to Nashville that neither the foliage nor many of the crafts were anything to get excited about.
Also "if you install security lights and then leave your doors unlocked." I knew many people who did this sort of thing. In a way, it was nice, that you could be so trusting and not get robbed for your troubles. I could never bring myself to do it though -- too soon after NYC, I think (though I routinely leave my wallet, car keys, laptop, etc., lying around at Kripalu).
I was thinking about Indiana the other day, as the girlfriend of someone we both know is starting an M.A. program in Bloomington, and it got me to reminiscing. I will never be a Midwestern boy: too flat, too conservative (with few exceptions), and far too far from the sea. And I used to rail bitterly against the place during much of the time I was there. But it wasn't all bad, and there was a gentle sweetness to much of my time there.