Little pink houses

This was a travel day and return to work day for me, but for illustrative purposes I snapped a few remaining photos in Indiana before three hours on the road.

I never particularly thought of the state being much different from Ohio. It isn't, really. Still, most of the time I've spent in Indiana has been in the central eastern part, so it's a given that things were similar due to not wandering far off the east-west interstate. Having hung out in northern Indiana for the better part of a week, one of the main differences I detected was more nasality in speaking voices. Hey, I wasn't doing sociological research or anything, so that's all this expedition yielded.

Since I was driving mostly on state routes, I passed through several villages, towns, and cities, each one looking more or less like the last. This alternate landscape wasn't bombarded with visions of fast food restaurants, gas stations, and hotels looming at nearby exits but a good share of Dollar Generals, Wal-Marts, and beer and pop drive-thrus. Traffic was minimal, with only one or two cars nearby for any significant periods. It was nice and relaxing during the day, but I imagine the blackness would have felt like it stretched on forever at night.

As surprising as it is for me to do the math, for about half of my life I've now lived in the suburbs, whose borders are blurred if noticeable at all. (The first half was in a village.) It seems so foreign to me now to pass through or stay in these self-contained towns, even if they're not terribly far from somewhere with a moderate population size. I have a hard time comprehending life in a single stoplight municipality, let alone those field-buffered burgs who only announce themselves by dropping the speed limit by twenty miles per hour as you whiz through them in thirty to sixty seconds.

I do have affection for older towns, like the one where my brothers live, with at least some semblance of uptown and downtown. I don't know that they spend any time in the town square pictured above, but to me it's at least indicative of some vibrancy or community stature. It's not just a place to be passed through.

On my way out of town I stopped at an independent coffee shop near this square. It was a cozy little environment where I'd bet the staff knows the names of regulars, yet it seemed roomy and modern enough to provide a taste of the big city for those not wanting to feel like they're stuck in the sticks. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with the sticks. I just don't know that it's where I permanently belong these days.