Getting Lost ( Abducted by Aliens ) in Central Indiana


Not long ago and not far away, I got lost in central Indiana along with my parents. We were in my rental car, driving to Hanover, Indiana from Nashville, Indiana. The night was dark — of course — and the hour was late. We were eager to get home earlier than the previous night. We’d made the same drive from Nashville to Hanover in the same car at almost the same time of night. We’d had no problem getting from point A to point B. On Friday evening after attending the play HEROES at the Brown County Playhouse, we drove east on Hwy. 46 to discover the entrance and exit at I-65 was closed. We took Hwy. 11 south to a flashing light — or perhaps a stop light — and turned right there to find a more southerly entrance to I-65. The rest was a breeze. On Saturday night, we made the same turn south on Hwy. 11 in that the I-65 entrance was still closed. When we reached the flashing light, we turned right. Somehow, even though we were watching for I-65 we either went over it or under it without seeing it. We wound up on the west side of the interstate and on Hwy. 58 west. I suggested we’d missed the interstate and that we might want to turn around. But we didn’t. We drove into corn fields.

On Saturday night, we made the same turn south on Hwy. 11 in that the I-65 entrance was still closed. When we reached the flashing light, we turned right. Somehow, even though we were watching for I-65 we either went over it or under it without seeing it. We wound up on the west side of the interstate and on Hwy. 58 west. I suggested we’d missed the interstate and that we might want to turn around. But we didn’t. We drove into corn fields. Yes, we make crop circles. We drove through Mount Healthy — I didn’t even see a town! Then we drove through Waymansville — again, I didn’t notice a town. We reached a small county road called Seymour Road and since Seymour is a city which lies along I-65 we turned left to take Seymour Road hopefully to Seymour. My mother got her iPhone, brought up its trusty compass. She began to tell me, “We’re going south, oh, now we’re going east, now we’ve turned a little north…” Looking at a map of Bartholomew County, Indiana one can see that Seymour Road wiggles and actually dead ends in what appears to be a neighborhood. However, other branches of other roads come off the small highway. Eventually we must have reached Hwy. 11 which crosses I-65 from east to west in a southerly direction. We turned right — south — on Hwy. 11, reached Hwy. 50, turned left on it and drove right up to I-65, taking it south to Hanover.

Somewhere in the corn fields, we were abducted by aliens.

You Can’t Talk ( by Carley Evans )


Shelly Miller, a father in Indiana pummelled an assistant coach into a state of unconsciousness because his daughter was ordered to run laps after fighting with a fellow player. Wynter Goodwin, a friend of the father, defended him, incredulously saying:

“If the coach is [expletive] with your kid, what are you to do? You can’t talk to him.”

You can’t talk to him? Really?

The media coverage indicates the father didn’t speak to the assistant coach at all, just struck him in the face, knocking the man to the ground. Then he climbed atop him and continued to beat him until the senior coach, Robert Johnson, pulled him off.

Not hard to imagine a man losing his temper, rushing to judgment, striking out without thinking. What’s more difficult to comprehend is its acceptance as normal by his friends. Somehow, it’s normal that young people be allowed to fight in school, that young people not be disciplined by their elders, that authority be challenged not with words but with fists, that you can’t talk.