Last summer my wife and
I began planning a humor book, Hoosier
Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All. Indiana’s
2016 bicentennial, after all, doesn’t come along every century.
While researching the
book we visited a lot of fun places, but our favorites were monuments and
natural areas. An example is the main square of Indianapolis, which was laid
out so the governor’s mansion would be right in the center of a grand city.
No governor ever lived
there. It was just too busy. Eventually the mansion was torn down and replaced
by Monument Circle. There you’ll find, among other statues, the Indiana State
Soldiers and Sailors Monument—the first in the nation dedicated to the “common”
soldier and sailor.
You can’t toss a chunk
of Indiana limestone without hitting a monument, which is usually made of
Indiana limestone. We’re a place of historically historic places, such as the
original State Capitol, Corydon. In addition to the Old Capitol Building, there
stands the preserved trunk of an old elm tree. It turns out the air
conditioning didn’t work well in 1816, so state delegates headed outside to
write the Indiana Constitution under something that only then became known as
the Constitutional Elm.
Among my other favorite
memorials is one honoring George Rogers Clark, whose military exploits secured
the Northwest Territory for the new United States. Further south, near the Ohio
River (and the Christmas-themed town of Santa Claus), is the Lincoln Boyhood
National Memorial. There Abe lived—in his boyhood, obviously—the same year
Indiana became a state. There his mother died of milk sickness, while little
Abe was kicked in the head by a horse and for a time thought dead, and became
so upset after shooting a wild turkey that he never hunted again. Not on the
same day. Still, it’s no wonder he moved on to Illinois.
It’s Indiana’s state
parks that are closest to my heart. There’s something about being outdoors
that’s so … outdoorsy. There are many recreational areas, with the goal of
having at least one park within an hour’s drive of any Hoosier—at least, any
Hoosier who happens to be in Indiana.
The first was McCormick’s Creek State Park,
dedicated July 4, 1916, as part of Indiana’s centennial celebration. It was
named after John Wesley McCormick, whose son settled in the middle of White
River State Park (it wasn’t a park then), becoming the first resident of what
would someday be Indianapolis. The first naturalist program in the entire country
began at McCormick Creek, in 1927.
Our parks show off natural environments, like the
cliffs and falls of Clifty Falls (I see what they did, there), and the kettle
lakes of my favorite, Chain O’ Lakes State Park. But later they expanded to
take in historical locations like Mounds State Park, which no, isn’t related to
the candy bar (unless that’s where the Native Americans dumped their wrappers?)
One of the signs of civilization is when people don’t have to live in tents and
cook over fires, but do it voluntarily.
If you plan to recreate in Indiana—and who
doesn’t?—there’s lots of other stuff to do. We have fairs and festivals all
over, from spring through autumn. There’s cross country skiing in winter, which
goes to show Hoosiers try to give crazy people something to do. Big cities to
small towns, zoos, water parks, wineries, and you can’t swing an historical
artifact without hitting a museum in Indiana, although they frown on swinging
the artifacts, so don’t.
All four of my published fiction works are set in
Indiana: Storm Chaser, its sequel The Notorious Ian Grant, and a related
story collection Storm Chaser Shorts
all in northeastern Indiana, while The
No-Campfire Girls is set at a southern Indiana summer camp. In addition to Hoosier Hysteria, our other two
non-fiction books are about local history: Images
of America: Albion and Noble County and Smoky
Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department.
Only my humor collection, Slightly Off
the Mark, isn’t set here—although Indiana often gets a mention.
One random commenter will get a copy of our new
book, Hoosier Hysterical: How the West
Became the Midwest Without Moving At All, when it’s released in May.
Mark lives in small town Indiana with his wife,
Emily, their dog, Baewulf, and their cowardly python, Lucius. His night job is
as a 911 dispatcher, and he’s also a volunteer firefighter and photography. In
his non-existent free time, he writes fiction, nonfiction, and fan fiction. He’s also
known for really bad puns.
Connect to Mark and all his work, including
purchase information, here: www.markhunter.com
(Info provided by author)
TAKE SPECIAL NOTICE OF THE SIDEBAR TODAY! AUTHOR MOLLY DANIELS WAS THE SCHEDULED POST BUT TURNED HER INFO IN LATE. TAKE A MOMENT TO CHECK OUT HER INDIANA VIEW AS WELL! THANKS MOLLY!
TAKE SPECIAL NOTICE OF THE SIDEBAR TODAY! AUTHOR MOLLY DANIELS WAS THE SCHEDULED POST BUT TURNED HER INFO IN LATE. TAKE A MOMENT TO CHECK OUT HER INDIANA VIEW AS WELL! THANKS MOLLY!
I cant help but wonder how the prevalence of limestone affects the people who live in a place. Do they feel cemented in place? One of my consistent feelings whenever I've travelled through Indiana was the feeling that nobody was planning to ever leave. I'm sure Old Abe wasn't happy about doing so. Of course, he was born in Kentucky, which may explain his footloose ways. Seriously, why don't Indianans brag more on Benjamin Harrison? He was a good enough guy even if he did end up losing to an Ohioan.
ReplyDeleteIndiana sounds like a beautiful place!
ReplyDeleteI look forward to visiting the state one day.
Your books sound good too.
Good luck and God's blessings.
PamT
Nice piece, Mark. I, too, write a series set in Indiana (and blogged here about the state last year). Indiana is much under-rated. And thanks for highlighting my favorite of the many beautiful state parks - I've spent many a lovely say hiking at McCormick's Creek. It's especially lovely in snow!
ReplyDeleteThis was such a fun read! Your humor shows through and I'll just bet it's thick in your books. It is amazing what we can learn about our own hometowns or states if we but look. Secrets and not so secret information abounds. Is the term milk sickness something you conjured or is that a real condition? I had never heard it before. With the humorous way you express yourself, when I first read it, I attributed it to your sense of delight.
ReplyDeleteI can just see it all. Great post, and loved the monuments and history. Keep on, keepin' on. Doris McCraw/Angela Raines-author
ReplyDeleteFinally! Someone has addressed my first-grade confusion. Why west was east of us (Idaho). That simply didn't make sense to a six-year-old. LOL.
ReplyDeleteNice article, Mark. Best of luck to you.
Ken, a lot of people talk about leaving, and fifty years later talk about how they never want to leave--except during winter. Maybe the limestone just gives us that sense of having a solid bedrock beneath us. As for Lincoln, I suspect his father was one of those people you hear about from back then, we started feeling crowded as soon as his nearest neighbor got within five miles.
ReplyDeletePam, it certainly is a beautiful place! It even has its moments during winter.
Sheila, I remember your blog! I spend most of my state park time at Chain O' Lakes (the closest) and Pokagon (where my wife works at the saddle barn), but every one I've been too has great attractions.
Mary, milk sickness is a real thing, the result of cows eating the white snake root plant. Thankfully very rare today! Although I try to stick to making fun of real things in this particular book, you're right that I wouldn't be above making that kind of thing up elsewhere.
Doris, I will indeed keep on keeping on! I have dozens of writing projects or ideas ahead of me.
Thanks, Jacquie! I felt the same way as a youngin' ... we were the west once? And we're still called the midwest, even though we're east of so much? I started getting interested when I got old enough to realize we were once the far west frontier!
You certainly do love your state, Mark!
ReplyDeleteWilliam, I do indeed! My theory is, if you don't like the place you're staying, you should be going on about the place you move to!
ReplyDeleteLoved this. You are in your usual form. Of course, I Tweeted.
ReplyDeleteLooking forward to your new book! I'll be there in June. Hope to get to see you this time around.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mari!
ReplyDeleteI hope so, Sundry--it seems like something's going on whenever you're in the area!