Category: Out of the Office
When we were small, we used to scribble on construction paper turkeys a few of our favorite things: family, friends, pets. Macaroni and cheese. The color blue. As adults, our gratitude is ever-growing. Even in a world of chaos and instant gratification, there are things we can never replace: big things, small things. Anything. Everything.
Thanksgiving hasn’t passed yet, so on principle, we can’t mention the holiday season that comes after it. Let’s just say, we’ll be ringing bells and hanging lights a week from now. But since some of our favorite businesses are getting a head start on the-holiday-which-must-not-be-named, we wanted to give them a shout-out and remind you to shop local this year.
It’s easy to fall in love with the Miller House. The nearly 7,000 square feet of travertine floors. The colorful textiles. The mod fireplace. If you haven’t seen the Columbus, Ind., home, you should. It’s a design, architecture, and modern living utopia.
For 69 years, costumed families have paraded through Irvington’s tree-lined streets. Pumpkins with goofy, toothy grins have rested on doorsteps, and storefront windows have been painted with eerie imagery. But for locals, the annual Halloween Festival is more than just the macabre—it’s a celebration of community.
Urban renewal is more than just the construction of buildings; it’s the construction of community. On Indy’s Near Eastside, nonprofit community development organization Near East Area Renewal (NEAR) creates great places, cultivates relationships, and promotes the belief that “front porches make good neighbors.”
Climate change is no laughing matter, but don’t tell that to Jim Poyser. We sat down with the self-proclaimed climate change humorist to talk about the role of comedy in environmental activism.
I nervously sat in the back of the helicopter, nails bitten to the quick. What am I doing? My legs shook and my mind raced, and the pilot mumbled codes and commands beyond my comprehension. My ears, shielded beneath a headset, did not hear the fwump fwump fwump of the rotor blades, or the pinched squeaks that surely escaped my lips. All I could hear was the pilot, the control center, and my own pounding anxiety.