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Last Call
Indiana Spring
Missing its very special bloom.
It may seem odd, but often one’s favorite things in life turn out to be those one didn’t grow up with. So having spent my first 20 odd years in California I knew nothing about the languid charms of humid summers or the heavenly silence of snowy nights. Or springs that come alive when they’re supposed to, and not after the first rainfall, which might be in November. Here in Virginia azalea season is a sight to behold, something we didn’t have in back in Indiana, where I spent my next dozen or so years. But we had something else, and I see a bit of it here too, and it’s what I like most about spring: Redbud.
Most of the year it’s a small nondescript tree, a pawn among oak and maple kings and queens. If you notice it at all, you might mistake it for a fruit tree that’s been barren for many generations. Not that we’ll remember, but spring reminds us that all is not what it appears. By April the redbud comes alive, its thin branches all in purply pink bloom. I can’t remember a lovelier color to stare at, and in Bloomington (where we lived) it showed itself everywhere, for two solid weeks. Then it was gone, replaced by drab leaves, and soon you’d forget which trees had been the redbud.
Happily there’ve been other reasons to think about Indiana this spring. Butler University’s fine run in the NCAA tournament certainly put the state on the map, leading to inevitable comparisons to everyone’s favorite basketball movie, Hoosiers. But while most people talked about the flick’s semi-fictional David vs. Goliath scenario in which the underdog team wins the state championship on what is Butler’s actual home court, what clinched the movie for me was its depiction of the Indiana countryside and small towns in winter, evoking all the sadness of a world left behind. We had recently moved to Northern Virginia when the movie came out — watching it then I knew what I’d always miss. I was right.
I also knew I wouldn’t miss Indianapolis. In fact today I might not recognize it. Back then it desperately wanted to be a major league city. When I saw it 10 years ago it had already significantly changed, but in that shopping center kind of way that featured new Borders bookstores and upscale department outlets and an expanded airport that was no longer as quaint as its being named for Weir Cook had once suggested. Of course, it also had the NFL Colts, who arrived in town just as we were leaving and who now play in a new indoor/outdoor stadium, their previous domed domicile having been demolished as soon as it was put on waivers. Similarly, the NBA’s Pacers’ move into fancier digs in 1999 led to the demolition of their previous home. I don’t suppose redbud grows anywhere near those sites.
Neither of the razed arenas could have been much older than a quarter century — in fact I remember seeing them when they were both spanking new. How lucky that Butler’s Hinkle Fieldhouse — built in 1928 — is still standing, not to mention the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. I was about to make a big deal of the news that this summer marks the 25th anniversary of our magazine’s move from Indiana to the Washington area, but in current Hoosier terms that milestone could be confused with an expiration date. Besides, what’s there to celebrate? Have you ever heard anyone sing “Back Home Again, in Washington”?
About the Author
Wlady Pleszczynski is editorial director of The American Spectator and the editor of AmSpec Online.
Letter to the Editor View all comments (23) | Leave a comment
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bob sykes| 5.12.10 @ 8:00AM
Many years ago, I and a colleague used to take graduate students to a conference at Purdue in early May. Much of the route was lined with glorious redbuds. They're out now in central Ohio, too. One of the true joys of Spring.
Tomas| 5.13.10 @ 3:33PM
Two comments:
First, if you like humidity, well.. you're kinda weird. I'll take the dry heat any day over this 70-degree-sweat-'till-you-drop stuff.
Second. The charms of any region are never found in that region's cities. Most are scum holes with a very small section of worthwhile amenities. Witness Montreal (the best city in the world, IMNSHO).
The characteristic charms of any region are to be found in the outlying rural communities. small towns, gatherings of a handful of houses at a crossing, that seemingly lonely farmhouse in the middle of that long stretch of road.
This is where the real people live. Where the doors are never locked. Where locals say "Hi" to anyone walking by. Where the community welcomes the new neighbors with trays of delectable treats, offers to carry boxes off the truck, a few dinners to get the families on their feet.
Where the traditions run so deep the roots will never be pulled up.
You can find these people in any part of any country in the world. Stop looking in the city. Go to the roots.
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Bob K.| 5.12.10 @ 8:32AM
Wlady,
Re: The question you pose in your last sentence.
The answer is no.
Now, here is my question: Why did "The American Spectator" ever leave Indiana for Washington DC? The magazine hasn't been the same since.
I wish I could find the big box of the old tabloid issues I saved from those days but I've moved 3 times since those days and they disappeared.
The writing was better. The thinking was sharper. The satire more biting. No one was trying to impress the doyens in the government/media axis.
Working inside the beltway has the same effect as a belt does that is pulled tight around ones neck. It constricts the oxygen to the brain. Eyes bulge, tunnel vision happens. Outside the beltway in "flyover country" one can see the big picture!
Alas, "You can't go home again." The first Tom Wolfe.
Cordially, (As WFB Jr. usually signed off)
Bob K.
Chris| 5.12.10 @ 10:27AM
Those were the days. I have one of those issues on my coffe table. And the 20th anniversary issue.
BerlGoetz| 5.12.10 @ 8:33AM
One of the many pleasures of driving the Interstate and toll-road system in Kentucky is the conspicuous garnishing of native redbud and dogwood in the woods during the spring. Combined with Sycamore silhouettes and contrasting swaths of dark and light green amid a backdrop of limestone, it's hard to keep your eyes on the road.
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The Bishop| 5.12.10 @ 10:16AM
Wlady,
Even though I live near the Golden Dome in South Bend, I'm in Indianapolis this morning as I ready your article. You are right on about both the Redbuds and Indianapolis. Attempts to move upscale do not always serve the community's best interests. And while we're remembering, why did they ever institute class competition for the state high school basketball tournament? There can be no more David and Goliaths. Great column.
Byron| 5.12.10 @ 11:43AM
I grew up in Indiana a long time ago. My best friend and I rode out the tide of the seasons, summer days of bright green and blue, somber, silent winter woods in fog. I would love to return to that time and walk down the hill once more to that huge oak tree by Jake's Creek. Maybe rest in the shade for a time.
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Twitter Trackbacks for The American Spectator : Indiana Spring [spectator.org] on To links to this page. Here’s an excerpt:
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House Gardening Booming in Valparaiso, Indiana | Home & Garden | Indiana Real Estate links to this page. Here’s an excerpt:
bobmontgomery| 5.13.10 @ 8:58PM
one of the most lamentable things about Indiana was the switch from winner-take-all high school basketball, from which came hOOSIERS, TO THE "Class system" (A,B,C,D). This was done to give more kids trophies, you know the routine. Indiana has never been the same. Liberal "interlopers" are bent on destroying Indiana.
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