One benefit of living in a small town: parades with fire trucks and classic cars and tractors and the high school marching band and Shriners.

Really interesting presentation this evening at the Lawrence County Museum about the history of newspaper printing—including physical copies of papers from the past few hundred years.

As with all opinions that don’t matter, I hold firmly to the idea that the Midwest consists of Wisconsin, Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio. It seems to me that the historical roots of the Midwest lie in the Old Northwest Territory (named because it was northwest of the Ohio River), which consisted of the states named above plus a piece of Minnesota.

The Midwest is also characterized by industrial centers–Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, Milwaukee. The further you get from those classic industrial cities the less Midwestern you are. Honestly, here in southern Indiana we’re more of a border region between the Midwest and the South.

But you know what’s even better than state line and arbitrary region names? Watersheds. It grounds our sense of geography in something more real than political boundaries. In this post, Todd writes about one way to do that. If we use his system of naming regions after river watersheds, I live in the nation of Ohio, state of Wabash, county of Patoka-White, and city of East Fork White.

Rachel and I are now lifetime members of our county’s historical society. This is not step one of my Grand Plan to Change the World. It is, however, step one in connecting with my community, warts and all. Localism doesn’t mean much if it’s all just in your head.

We’re shifting to late summer and that means the buzzing drone of annual cicadas. Nothing sounds more like summer than that.

I found out this week that my hometown has a unique piece of furniture: the Bedford pie safe. It is unique in being three panels wide instead of two. Research by the local historical society found that they were built by a cabinetmaker named John Reath (1817-1898). I’d love to see one in person!

I visited Corydon—Indiana’s original state capital—for the first time on Friday. It was the capital from the time it became a state in 1816 until Indianapolis was built (specifically for the purpose of being the capital city) in 1825.

This building housed both wings of the state legislature and the Supreme Court:

The Indiana constitution was debated and drafted in part under this elm, because the building was too hot in June. The tree died about a century ago and they preserved its trunk in this monument. All of Indiana’s county courts have a gavel carved from this elm and the original constitution is stored in a box made from its wood:

The Indiana constitution was signed on this desk:

On a solo drive through southern Indiana today. First stops: the Medora brick factory and the Medora covered bridge (longest in the US).

I’m feeling the itch to go on another southern Indiana day-long road trip. Some previous trips:

• July 2022 visit to Geode Grotto. Also visited Jug Rock and Hindostan Falls on the same day.
• I never properly documented this one, but I went on a long trip from New Harmony to Troy in August 2023. Pictures here and here. I wish I had documented it better at the time. It was a really good day. Apart from visiting New Harmony and Christ of the Ohio, I visited the grave of a gypsy queen in Evansville, explored a Catholic cemetery, drove the Ohio River Scenic Byway, and visited the Monte Cassino Shrine.
• Ancestor grave visiting in October 2023

I note with some disappointment that a few new businesses in my town are called Star City [etc]. When I was growing up, it seemed like every other business was Stone City [etc]. That was, of course, because of the local limestone industry. (We are, for good reason, the self-proclaimed Limestone Capital of the World.) The industry still exists but it is a shadow of its former self, for various reasons. Now businesses seem to be turning to the mascot of our high school for their naming. Is it a big deal? No, but it does represent a fading and forgetting.