812 magazine summerfall 2016 by 812 MAGAZINE

A BLIND KAYAKER TACKLES RAPIDS AND LIFE

S U M M E R / FA L L 2 0 1 6

FOOD WE LOVE

Restaurants

worth the drive Chefs’ tips Classics and trends + Our top Yelpers

A Muslim family works toward understanding

Albion Fellows Bacon: Indiana’s caretaker

A convent celebrates 150 years of sisterhood

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ON THE COVER:

28 Fork in the road

Your insider’s guide to restaurants worth the drive, chefs’ tips, ethnic dishes and our top Yelpers. Story by Lanie Maresh, Harley Wiltsey and Hannah Lavine

Features

Tomorrow is an otter day

Thanks to a team of biologists, these playful mammals are thriving. Story by Jordan Guskey

16 Mass appeal Locally owned and operated for over Bloomington Valley Nursery offers landscape design and installation. Fully stocked with a variety of trees, shrubs, perennials, and annuals. Bulk mulch, soils available.

We Deliver! SUMMER/ FALL 2016

50 years!

5230 S. Old State Road 37 Bloomington, IN 47401 812-824-8813 BloomingtonValleyNursery.com

Photos provided by Joshue Mayer and Bil Murray from Flickr

The nuns of Monastery Immaculate Conception are celebrating 150 years of sisterhood. Story by Kaitlyn Chamberlin and Alexis Daily

22 Second sight

Blinded in a hunting accident 19 years ago, kayaker Lonnie Bedwell now sees life more clearly than ever. Story by Liz Meuser

Painting the light

Indiana’s caretaker

Where the path may lead

Artists are drawn to the sunlight and shadows on our regional landscapes. Story by Sami Aronowitz and Michael Williams

How one Evansville woman transformed housing for the poor in Indiana. Story by Sara Miller

A Muslim family in Columbus fosters understanding. Story by Ellen Glover and Allison Chaplin

Departments GET OUT OF TOWN

Purple haze

TASTE OF SOUTHERN INDIANA

The Evansville Dream

WHAT I’VE LEARNED

Goodman, PALS director 11 Fern THE 812 LIST

Eight historic moments

On the cover: Chef Gethin Thomas at Henry Social Club in Columbus. /Photo by Michael Williams, lighting by Steven Leonard. Special thanks to Malinda Aston, Steve Layton, Gena Asher, Allen Major, Greg Menkedick, Roger Hartwell and Susan Elkins for their assistance in the publication of 812: The Magazine of Southern Indiana.

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NOTE FROM THE EDITOR Born and raised just 30 minutes from Chicago, I’ve always had a special place in my heart for big city life. I expected a culture shock when I moved to Bloomington my freshman year, but I found myself surprised by all this community has to offer. No longer were “cornfields” or a “simple life” the words I used to describe my college town to friends and family. Now Lanie Maresh those words are “liveliness,” Editor-in-chief “opportunity” and “diversity.” I was surprised to find how much more I learned about the 812 area working on this magazine. I never knew about the thriving Muslim community in Columbus or the progressive monastery in Ferdinand. And I definitely had never experienced the pure bliss of persimmon pudding, all of which are featured in the pages to come. To me, each story is just a small piece of what makes Southern Indiana what it is today. So, whether you’ve lived here all your life or are stopping by for the first time, I hope you can learn a little bit about the wonderful place I’m proud to call, now and forever, a home.

Our 812 Staff

812:

THE MAGAZINE OF SOUTHERN INDIANA Winter/Spring 2016 Volume 5, Number 1 812 was conceived, reported, written, photographed, edited and designed by students in J481: Creating an Indiana Magazine at the Indiana University Media School. Contents may not be reproduced without the written consent of the school. You also can find exclusive online stories at our website, 812magazine.com. If you’re interested in advertising in 812, or if you’d like copies to distribute at your place of business, please contact ads@idsnews.com.

Sara Miller Managing Editor

Michael Williams Art Director

Sarah Lally Assistant Art Director

Ellen Glover Social Media Editor

She dove into her Evansville roots to tell the story of Indiana tenements.

He explored the art of Indiana and learned just as much about its people.

Sarah discovered the history of the state that’s her collegiate home.

Ellen is from New York and loved learning about different cultures.

Alexis Daily Staff Writer

Liz Meuser Photo Editor

Samantha Aronowitz Social Media Editor

Hannah Lavine Staff Writer

YOUR LIFE YOUR STYLE YOUR STORE

Alexis took a leap of faith when she visited a monastery for the first time.

Liz learned about navigating the waters of adversity from a blind adaptive sportsman.

Sami learned to appreciate the painters who capture Indiana’s landscapes.

This senior from New Jersey ditched bagels and pizza for pork tenderloin and pie.

Jordan Guskey Staff Writer

Kaitlyn Chamberlin Departments Editor

Allison Chaplin Online Editor

Harley Wiltsey Staff Writer and Designer

A love for zoos inspired him to track down Indiana’s exuberant river otters.

This senior followed her Midwest roots all the way to small town Ferdinand.

Allison was eager to explore different ways of life in Southern Indiana.

Harley discovered local flavors and classic Hoosier cuisine.

BLOOMINGTON

4 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

2664 E. Second St. (Former location of Different Drummer)

812-345-2689 Tues. - Sat. 11 a.m. - 6 p.m.

Nancy Comiskey Senior Lecturer

She had the privilege to work with this talented group of young journalists.

5 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

GET OUT OF TOWN

Your One-Stop

GARDEN Center

Growi ng qualit y plants since 1 965

Purple haze Experience the sight and scent of lavender.

Visit Willowfield from mid-June to mid-July to catch the lavender in full bloom. /Photo courtesy of Willowfield Lavender Farm

By Harley Wiltsey

6 SUMMER/ FALL 2016 6280

Mon-Sat, 9-5:30 • Sun 12-5:30 www.maysgreenhouse.net S. OLD ST. RD. 37 • BLOOMINGTON • 824-8630

Tropicals • Annuals • Herbs • Vegetables • Perennials Trees • Shrubs • Bulbs & Seed • Bark Mulch • Landscape Rock

estled in a small neighborhood in Mooresville, Willowfield Lavender Farm offers an unexpected look at a classic Mediterranean plant. For the past 15 years, Elizabeth and Kieran O’Connor have been growing and producing organic lavender on their fouracre field, a difficult task in Indiana’s climate. Kieran wanted to find an enjoyable job after retiring from the Indianapolis Fire Department. The couple’s prior interest in gardening and lavender presented the perfect opportunity for growth. “It just grabbed a hold of me,” Elizabeth says. “We just keep planting and growing.” Grab a glass of lavender tea and take a walk around the grounds or relax on the porch. Either way, be sure to breathe in the sweet scent that wafts through the air.

Willowfield Lavender Farm 6176 E. Smokey View Road Mooresville

Open 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday starting May 14. Entrance is free

Summer concert series tickets are $5 a person. “Talk and walks,” where you learn the farm’s story, are $2 a person. What to do while you’re there

Visitors can explore the fouracre farm, complete with a gazebo, or browse through the barnturned-boutique. Products for sale include greeting cards, sachets, linen and body sprays, and blended teas, many of which are made by Elizabeth. Small bags and bundles of lavender are also available for purchase.

Willowfield is also a popular spot for baby showers and weddings. The wedding tree provides a perfect photo backdrop. Many brides enjoy picking lavender to include in their event. “It’s a very quiet and peaceful place,” Elizabeth says. “People thank us for having that peace.”

Three rules for growing lavender

Lavender can be difficult to grow in Indiana because of the wet and variable climate, so here are three tips to help your garden flourish: 1. Lavender is a full-sun plant, requiring a minimum of six hours of sunlight between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. 2. It needs warm, well-drained soil. It can’t sit in water, or it will rot. 3. It needs sweet soil, meaning chalky or alkaline with a pH around 7.0. Willowfield recommends preparing the soil with a base of limestone for draining as well as sweetening the soil. Ways to use lavender

Lavender is a multipurpose flower. Try these ideas: • Rub fresh lavender flowers or oil on the body to repel insects while outside. • Rub lavender oil on the temples or the palms and inhale the scent to ease headaches. • Use the oil and scent as a sleep aid. • Add lavender oil to tea or lemonade to enhance the flavor.

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Acoustic & Electric Guitars: Taylor, G&L, Washburn, Seagull, Indiana

Keyboards:

SIC MU VAN CE

Sales, Lessons, Accessories & Repair

CEN TER

TASTE OF SOUTHERN INDIANA

Northside of Downtown Square 112 W. Sixth Street 812-339-0618

Yamaha, Korg

Amps:

Orange, Supro, Line6, Laney

Store Hours

Mon, Tue, Thu, Fri: 9:30 - 5:30 Wed: 9:30 - 7:00 Sat: 9:30 - 5:00

The Evansville Dream

Grippo’s and Ski are this city’s apple pie. By Sara Miller

Live the Good Life Millennium and bloom Apartments Stop by for a tour and check out our newly renovated 24-hr Fitness Facility, Indoor Heated Pool and Cross-Fit Equipment

812-558-0800

hunterbloomington.com

8 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

Hot dogs and apple pie may taste like the American Dream, but you haven’t had the Evansville Dream until you’ve opened a can of Ski and a bag of Grippo’s. “We’ve had the big boxes of Grippo’s and plenty of Ski to go around at every family gathering for as long as I can remember,” says Evansville native Shelby Beavin, who averages several cans of Ski a day and has even painted the Grippo’s and Ski logos on her nails. The chips have been around since 1959 and come in a variety of flavors, like Cheese and Jalapeno or Sweet Bermuda Onion. But any true Evansville westsider knows the best way to get the Grippo’s experience is to stick with barbeque – a flavor so popular that they even sell bottles of Grippo’s Gourmet Bar-B-Q spice. Grippo’s Bar-B-Q Chips start out sweet. But, don’t get too comfortable. The more you eat, the more the chips dissolve into an explosion of spicy barbeque goodness. Grippo’s regulars know the only acceptable way of soothing the bold

flavor is by taking a swig from a cold can of Ski. The lemon-orange soda is produced by Evansville’s only remaining local bottler, RC Beverage Company, a staple in Evansville for over 50 years. Today, it manufactures 170 million cans and bottles and distributes products to two million people each year. “Ski is like the westside water,” born-and-bred Evansvillian Daniel Daily says. “You didn’t truly grow up on the westside of Evansville without having Grippo’s and Ski at least once.” The combo can be found in most Evansville grocery and convenience stores. If you want to take your enthusiasm to a whole new level, Evansville’s Azzip Pizza offers the “Westsider Pizza,” a pizza topped with Grippo’s chips and a Ski concentrate. You can buy Grippo’s online at www.grippos.com. Ski can be found in most southwestern counties in Indiana, from Warren down to Posey. “I love them both individually,” Beavin says, “and eating two good things together just seems to make them taste even better.”

Grippo’s Serving Size 1 bag (28g) Servings Per Container 1 Amount per serving

Year Founded 1959 Flavor Options

Cincinnati, Ohio % Goodness

Cheese and Jalapeno Sweet Bermuda Onion Gourmet Bar-B-Q Calories 140 Best Paired With RC Beverage Ski

Also known as “Westside Water” Made in Evansville

Calories 170 Total % Deliciousness 100%

30% 72% 110%

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www.traceinvestigations.com Indiana Licenses: PI20700048, SG20700049 Riding instructors guide a participant during her lesson at the PALS facility in Bloomington. /Photo courtesy of Fern Goodman

Fern Goodman, PALS director This 41-year-old saddled up and founded a therapeutic riding center. By Lanie Maresh

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rowing up in Bloomington with a mother who provided horsebackriding lessons for those with physical limitations, Goodman was inspired to open People and Animal Learning Services when she moved back in 2000. She got her bachelor’s degree in psychology with a specialization in human and animal interactions and earned her certification in therapeutic horsemanship. She shares with 812 how a special connection with humans makes horses great animals for therapy.

and put them on a bouncier horse, that can increase tone in the muscles. Just the movement of the horse can have a huge impact physically.

Horses help riders build strength

There are horses with all different personalities, but horses in general are very nonjudgmental beings. Whereas people with disabilities go through many parts of their lives being judged because they look, talk or walk differently. Horses see everyone as equal as long as you treat them properly.

The movement and warmth of the horse can strengthen your muscles. If you have a person who is really spastic in their muscles, putting them on a horse that has smooth movements will relax their muscles. If you have a person who has trouble using their muscles

They help us with our self-esteem

They’re amazing animals and really big, so one of the benefits is getting them to do what you want them to do. The pride of being in charge of such a large animal, whether on the ground, riding or whatever, will help with self-esteem.

They teach us about acceptance

They have a calming effect, even in tough times

We hear time and time again from our clients that therapy can be difficult. The magical thing about horses is that our clients are getting therapeutic benefits in a really superfun environment. They almost don’t know that they’re working for it.

They help us heal emotionally and physically

We started the Veterans Program because a lot of veterans have post-traumatic stress disorder or physical limitations. Riding a horse with its calming nature and learning how to trust another being can be very beneficial. We’ve done family integration where the dad has been gone for a long period of time, and the little kids don’t know him well. When their dad is back, they have an activity that they can do together. It gives them something to bond over, and something to talk about and share.

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Thanks to a team of biologists and the resilience of these playful mammals . . .

Tomorrow is an otter day

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By Jordan Guskey A car rolls gently along a gravel road. You’re sitting in the passenger seat as Donna Stanley, a park ranger at the Muscatatuck National Wildlife Refuge, drives her Ford Escape along a wetland area. The rays of the early-morning sun flash on the water’s surface. A quick splash catches your eye, and you focus on a spot about 50 feet away. Stanley slows the car, stops and puts it in park. You sit, window rolled down and camera out, catching a glimpse of an animal once forgotten in these parts. A North American river otter,

unperturbed by your presence, gnaws on a fish. Stanley moves the car even closer. You snap pictures of its sleek frame and dark, rich brown fur as it slides into the water and back out again, a new fish in its grasp every time. Today, river otters thrive in 87 percent of Indiana counties, but a little over 20 years ago, you would have had no reason to stop the car.

River otters were said to have disappeared in Indiana twice in the 20th century, unofficially in 1942, when the scientific community believed no otters were left, and officially in 1986, before efforts by Indiana’s Nongame and Endangered Wildlife Program rescued the species. Now Hoosiers can spot these energetic, playful creatures across the state. The success of the reintroduction effort, which included 12 separate releases in six watersheds between 1995 and 1999, can be seen in the otters’ steady population growth. By 2005, reported sightings placed otters in 65 of Indiana’s 92 counties. Three years later, that number rose to 71. As of 2015, it’s climbed to 80. Of course, some counties have more otters than others. Those counties where the release sites

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are located, and those contiguous to them, boast a more abundant population. So do counties in the northern and southern parts of the state, which have more wetland areas. The otters themselves are a highly social and mobile bunch. Romps, or groups of otters, may be found sliding around in snow or mud or playing in the water, chirping to communicate with one another. Onlookers may find them engaged in horseplay at any time of year, as otters, who tend to live to be 8 or 9 in the wild and grow to 3 or 4 feet in length, don’t hibernate. Family groups usually consist of a mother and an average litter of three pups, but don’t be surprised to see males gallivanting around. These antics strengthen otters’ social bonds and help younger ones practice their hunting techniques. “The relationship between an animal and its environment is complicated,” Stanley says, “but we know that every animal has a role, and the return of otters to Indiana should make our wild lands more natural places.”

The river otter reintroduction effort was captained by nongame wildlife biologist Scott Johnson, who joined the Indiana

Department of Natural Resources in 1986. Now 58, Johnson used insights gleaned from similar projects in Ohio, Illinois, Iowa and Kentucky. “They did a lot of the heavy lifting, those states,” Johnson says. “We learned a lot from them. It was just a matter of finding what we believed would be our ideal restoration watersheds.” Johnson’s team found six watersheds, areas that drain into a waterway, where the otters could be released. They compared factors such as water quality, availability of wetlands and fish population, and Muscatatuck rose to the top of the list. Just southeast of Seymour, Muscatatuck spans more than 7,700 acres, 30 percent of which are wetlands. Protected areas as large as this were essential, as river otters require a large landscape and tend to spread out over available territory. Since otters often fall prey to traps, even those targeting other animals, biologists teamed up with trappers to ensure each chosen area had trapping regulations. A lack of those restrictions is one reason otters disappeared in the 20th century. “Otters were considered unlimited,” Johnson says. “There was no limit on their take. Same with deer and beaver and a lot of others. State game agencies hadn’t been sanctioned or developed yet.” But for all practical purposes, Johnson says, the otters’ fate was sealed in

Where to find otters in the 812 region Restoration efforts pinpointed six watersheds in Southern Indiana that best suited the river otters. The mammals have since spread across much of the state, but they remain most abundant in areas near the initial release sites.

2 4

Rare Uncommon Common Abundant

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In 1996, otters scamper off at Big Oaks National Wildlife Refuge, then the Jefferson Proving Grounds. /Photo courtesy of Indiana DNR

1 Jefferson Proving Ground

4 Sugar Ridge FWA

2 Muscatatuck National Wildlife

5 Blue River

3 Patoka Lake

6 Little Blue River

SOURCE: Indiana Department of Natural Resources

the 1800s. Habitat destruction, pollution and unregulated trapping led to their extinction in Indiana. The trapping was especially harmful, as the quality of otter fur made it highly sought after. “It was the wild, wild West,” Johnson says of that time. After a promising feasibility study in 1993, otters were moved back to the endangered species list. Although they were extinct in Indiana at the time, Johnson says they needed to be reclassified before the release in order to have protection from the start. On the morning of January 17, 1995, school children poured off buses and gathered with other members of the public around a roped-off area at Muscatatuck. The sun shone bright as DNR officials took one cage at a time, two otters per cage, out of a truck and set the critters loose. As the 25 otters — 15 male and 10 female — scampered off, chatter turned to a chorus of cheers, clapping and the clicking of cameras. The pictures captured not just the beginning the Indiana reintroduction, but the end of a journey for these animals. The Indiana DNR Division of Fish and Wildlife had purchased each otter for $400 from Louisiana during that state’s trapping season and deposited them with staff and volunteers at Purdue University’s College of Veterinary Medicine. The team, led by now professor emeritus Wallace Morrison, comprised doctors, technicians, dentists and others, including Morrison’s wife. They spent the next 24 hours prepping the otters for release. They fed the otters restaurant-quality fish, Morrison remembers, and treated them in a laboratory normally used as a classroom. Fifteen of the otters had transmitters embedded under their skin so the DNR could track their movements. Morrison, who saw his first otter when the initial group arrived at Purdue, shares people’s fascination with the creature, but doesn’t consider them cuddly. “They are adorable to look at, but they’re very wild animals,” Morrison says. “They’ve got powerful jaws, and the last thing you’d ever want is to be bitten by an otter.” Today, Morrison likes to hear that a new generation is cruising along the Wabash River near his home. Apparently, his former patients followed through with his wish for them “to make a lot of babies and stick around for a while.” More than 300 otters passed through the lab between January 1995 and February 1999, and watching them scamper off was bittersweet for Morrison. “You feel like you’re saying goodbye to your children,” Morrison says.

Best known for their playfulness, romps of otters often create mud or snow slides down riverbanks. /Photo courtesy of Indiana DNR

There isn’t any way, according to Johnson, to compile an accurate estimate of Indiana’s river otter population today. But there are ways to see the population is increasing. “We track things we call indices,” Johnson says. “We track things like the number of otters that were reported trapped, the number of otters that might be hit on roads.” From 1995 to 2005, there were fewer than 50 mortality reports each year, but that number jumped to 75 by 2009 and to 125 in 2012. The most common cause of death is incidental trapping. Initially, the DNR staff conducted surveys each winter, checking bridges and streams for tracks after a fresh snow. They also looked for riverbank slides, where otters slip into the water, and fecal matter. The latter is usually a mash of fish bones. These animals are skilled anglers who put us humans to shame, Stanley says. “There have been times when a fisherman will be out for hours and catch nothing and then see a river otter pop in and out of the water with a fish.” Fish constitute 90 percent of a river otter’s diet, and an otter’s high metabolism means it must feed frequently. The otter uses its tail, which generally makes up a third of the otter’s length, to propel itself underwater. Its whiskers help it detect prey in dark or cloudy water, and its clawed feet grasp the next meal. It helps that otters aren’t too picky. “It’s not like they’re selecting a particular species or size class,” Johnson says. “They’re typically going to go for the most abundant fish, make a quick flush and if they get it,

fine. If not, they’ll look for someone else.” A year after the first release, DNR discontinued tracking the otters with transmitters because the first batch of otters behaved as expected. Physical tracking continued until 2007, when road-kill and trapping statistics became more reliable. “We didn’t expect any problems getting them established,” Johnson says, “because we used techniques that were proven elsewhere.”

Twenty years after the first otters slipped into Muscatatuck’s ponds and streams, the state established a limited trapping season. It began on November 15, 2015, and concluded on March 15, 2016. A quota of 600 otters, with a limit of two per trapper, was set and met. Johnson said trapping is a recreational activity and one way to manage the rising population and the problems that can come with that. From 2011 to 2013, the number of damage complaints the DNR received rose from 34 to 86. These complaints usually arise when otters harm private property or snatch fish from private ponds and commercial hatcheries. Johnson, who trapped game animals growing up and traps now for research purposes, favors the limited trapping season and sees the 600-otter quota as conservative. Morrison acknowledges trappers in Indiana were cooperative during the reintroduction process, but, as a veterinarian, he opposes trapping and finds it hard to believe otters have become abundant enough to warrant it. He mailed in his opposition to the new season when DNR sought public comment. “I did not want to

see that,” Morrison says. “I wasn’t in favor of trapping at this time.”

You’re out on the refuge again, this time alone. After speaking with Dan Kaiser, who’s taken pictures of wildlife here for 10 years, you know to keep a look out along the streambanks on the driving tour. Kaiser doesn’t go for the sole purpose of finding otters, but he’s glad when he does. “It just seems like they’re playing all the time if they aren’t eating or sleeping,” Kaiser says. “They’re so communal, always in motion climbing over each other.” The sun provides just enough light for your car lights to stay off. Early excursions, before the sun’s too high, have the highest probability of ending in an otter encounter. Although, nothing’s certain. “Some people see them every time,” Stanley says. “Some never.” Today you’re in luck. An otter glides smoothly to your left as you drive west, away from Richart Lake. You come to an abrupt stop, yet the noise of the wheels on gravel doesn’t disturb the otter. It’s become accustomed to inquisitive visitors. The otter dips below the surface, so you move closer. Their eyes are adapted for underwater vision, so otters are nearsighted out of the water. Now 20 feet away, you appreciate the efforts of those involved in ensuring river otters would roam Indiana’s wetlands once again. “The DNR’s otter reintroduction program,” Morrison says, “like the reintroduction of bald eagles some years earlier, represents another important step in the restoration of the rich fabric of Indiana’s natural world.”

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Mass appeal

By Kaitlyn Chamberlin and Alexis Daily

he Monastery Immaculate Conception sits atop a large hill overlooking the small town of Ferdinand. A narrow, redbrick pathway leads up the hill to the entrance. The monastery resembles a castle from a storybook. Surrounded by acres of green grass and trees, it is silent other than the far-off “caw” of the crows and the gentle billow of the wind. Taking a deep breath, we walk through the towering archways and open the carved wooden doors. A small, silver-haired woman wearing a navy sweatshirt with a giant Italian flag and “Italia” embroidered across the front greets us with a smile. Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” plays in the background. Maybe she’s a volunteer who helps out in the main office, we think. She asks the purpose of our visit and assures us the communications specialist will be out shortly. About five minutes later, a woman in her 40s, wearing blue jeans, a pink shirt and a black fleece jacket, introduces herself as Sister Briana. Yet another surprise. Where we expected no-nonsense nuns dressed in habits or sensible clothing we found a group of women both welcoming and fun. With almost 150 members, this Benedictine community of sisters is one of the largest monasteries in the country and will celebrate its 150th anniversary in October. Some traditions, like their dedication to prayer, have remained the same. But their once strict and silent lifestyles have changed dramatically as social and economic forces from the outside world reached the monastery on the hill.

Celebrating 150 years of sisterhood at Ferdinand’s historic monastery

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The once reclusive community of nuns now welcomes thousands of visitors. /Photo by Alexis Daily

Today’s Benedictine sisters bake, play instruments and work in the monastery’s beauty parlor. In their free time, they might play euchre, pickleball or cornhole or even sled down the snow-covered hill. This formerly reclusive group now annually hosts around 12,000 visitors of all faiths, ages and races. The monastery’s Kordes Center offers lodging for all types of guests, even those making the nine-mile drive to Holiday World in Santa Claus. “It’s a Benedictine value that you’re supposed to treat every person like it’s Christ, so it doesn’t matter who or what sex you are,” Sister Michelle Mohr says. “We administer help to whoever is in need.” That commitment has prompted the nuns to adapt some of their older buildings for new purposes. Benet Hall, a former

dormitory, is undergoing renovations to become affordable senior housing. The 15 two-bedroom apartments will open in November, and all faiths are welcome. The monastery follows St. Benedict’s advice to listen to all members in the community, youngest to oldest, because everyone has a special piece of wisdom. The sisters have what they call “Stable Tables,” a randomly assigned group of sisters, to decide the monastery’s long-term projects. During meetings, each sister sits with her group to discuss personal views. The tables remain in place for the year so the sisters can get to know one another on a deeper level. “What’s really nice, too, is I have friends that are older, my age and younger, so it’s not like the age groups stay together,” Sister Mary Philip Berger says. “We’re all together. Society doesn’t always think of relationships like that.”

“The roles of women were changing, and the world was changing, too.” This strong sense of sisterhood is deeply rooted in the past, to a day 150 years ago when four young women left the safety of their home in Kentucky to create a new monastery in Southern Indiana. It was 1867, two years after the end of the Civil War, when the four Benedictine sisters traveled by boat, train, and horse and buggy to Ferdinand, where the local pastor needed German-speaking nuns to teach the children of German immigrants. With very little knowledge of their new home but a lot of faith, the sisters, aged 19 to 33, set out to establish the Monastery Immaculate Conception. Farmers gave them produce and meat products. The sisters lived simple lives and wore floor-length habits. “When they came, they started out in a little house, which was at the foot of the hill,” says Sister Mary Andre, the monastery’s historian. “It wasn’t long before women started wanting to enter, and so rather than keep adding on to that house, they got land up here on the hill and built what we call the Quadrangle.”

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In October 1870, the Quadrangle became the Academy of the Immaculate Conception, a boarding school. Enrollment eventually reached 200 students of all faiths from places like the United States, Japan, Mexico and Guatemala. Prior to receiving electricity in 1910, the sisters prayed by candlelight or restricted prayer to hours with sufficient daylight. “We got up when it was light and went to bed when it was dark,” Sister Mary Andre says of her predecessors’ daily lives. “And in between, we prayed.” The monastery structure remained the same until 1914, when Mother Serafine was elected prioress. She oversaw the building of a chapel that served as a monument to God. Twenty-one-year-old architect Victor Klutho drew the blueprints in just one month. Construction began in 1915, but a shortage of funds and workers during World War I delayed the completion until 1924. “There was a lot of blood, sweat and tears put into the church,” Sister Mary Andre says. Artisans in Germany hand-carved the pews. Eighty-six angels in marble and stained glass adorned the church’s 90-foothigh dome. “Mother Serafine loved angels, so she wanted to make sure there’s enough of them, so we can sing and praise God with the angels,” Sister Mary Andre says. During the 1950s, the monastery had its largest community, with more than 500 sisters who taught in over 75 schools in 12 states and five countries. The growth was mostly due to the Sister Formation Movement, which encouraged sisters to pursue formal education. They could take on more prestigious roles, such as doctors, and interact with the outside world. However, the Vatican II reforms in the 1960s altered religious expectations for Catholics. The church urged nuns to update and modernize their look, so the habit was abandoned. The reforms gave women a more active role in the church, ultimately leading to a decline of nuns joining the monastery. Some say women realized they no longer had to be nuns to have a relationship with God and the church. “Before the reforms, there were few career options for women, and many saw being a nun as one of those options,” Sister Briana says. The declining number of nuns across the country led many monasteries to close, and the Monastery Immaculate Conception faced dwindling numbers, too. “People were leaving left and right because of the expectations and rules,” Sister Briana says. “The roles of women were changing, and the world was just changing a lot, too.”

THEN VS. NOW

The life of a nun at Monastery Immaculate Conception has changed dramatically in the last 150 years.

1867

• Sisters wore floor-length cotton and wool habits with woolen belts, rosaries, large sleeves and a scapular over their belts.

TODAY

• Sisters wear sweatshirts, sweaters, jeans, pants – really, whatever they want.

• Group prayer was seven times a day.

• Group prayer is three times a day.

• Sisters lived a life of solitude. Visitors were rarely allowed, and sisters were not permitted to leave the monastery grounds.

• Sisters speak to one another and spend time playing games, like euchre, and helping with projects, like quilting, around the church.

• Sisters served mainly as teachers or nurses.

• Sisters can be lawyers, psychologists and doctors as well as teachers and nurses.

• Talking was not permitted in the hallways or during meals.

• Meals occasionally are eaten in silence for certain events, but sisters speak with one another during the day and at other meals.

• Girls as young as 12 joined the convent.

• The monastery prefers women who have college degrees or comparable life experience.

• If sisters did something wrong, they had to “kneel out,” or sit on their knees and pray for forgiveness.

• When sisters make mistakes, they apologize directly to the person or people they have wronged.

GET TO KNOW THE NUNS

Mary Philip Berger, 74

Barbara Lynn Schmitz, 61

Age when entered: 19

Prioress

Age when entered: 26

Why I entered: I was working for an interior design firm in Memphis, had an apartment, car and was dating a wonderful man. By most standards, I had a great life, but there was a desire to grow in my faith life. I came to Ferdinand and knew God was calling me to be a member of the community and serve the church in the Benedictine way of life. It gives me the balance I need to grow personally and to support others in their vocation in life.

How my family reacted: It always seems like the last people to know you’re interested are your family and your boyfriend. My boyfriend had a fit. The people I worked with thought I had lost my mind. My parents were stunned. They didn’t really know what to say. I come from Memphis, and it’s not a really Catholic area. No one I ever knew

became a nun.

Favorite thing about living here: We don’t look at birth certificates, and we administer help to whoever is in need. You don’t have to be a nurse or a teacher, and I’m glad because I have terrible handwriting. I have a degree in business and worked in administration for a long time. It’s whatever your talents are. We all have different backgrounds. What I do for fun: If it snows, we go sled-riding. There’s lots of walking around the grounds, too. We’re very involved with the town and the community, which is fun for us. We play a lot of card games, like Egyptian rummy, bridge, sheepshead and euchre. We also play corn hole every once in a while.

Michelle Mohr, 80 Music minister

Age when entered: 17

Kitchen work past and present. /Photos courtesy of Monastery Immaculate Conception and by Kaitlyn Chamberlin

The 20 groups of 10 sisters for stable tables transformed into nine groups of seven or eight sisters. Classes of postulates dropped from 20 to around five. Though the community is smaller today, the monastery remains true to its values. “Community life is still sustaining,” Sister Briana says. “The day to day is just different.” Today, only 110 of the 147 sisters live within the monastery’s walls, but those who don’t still feel the connection. “This is home,” Sister Briana says. “Some of us just happen to be living elsewhere. ” At the entrance to the chapel, the original concrete floor dips at the threshold,

a physical reminder of all the sisters who have passed through the chapel doors. Adjacent to the chapel is the Blessed Virgin room. When new women enter the community, they are welcomed into this room. When nuns die, their bodies are laid here so sisters can pay their respects. “It’s the beginning and ending of our lives,” Sister Mary Andre says.

Hear what the sisters have to say about friendship, cats and Justin Bieber at www.812magazine.com.

Why I entered: The reason I went to the monastery was not because I felt like, ‘Oh, I really have this calling.’ The truth was I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and so I knew the only way to get it out of my mind was to come. How my family reacted: I came here after my junior year in high school, which, at that time, was not unusual. I came home from church one Sunday, and I walked in the kitchen and I said, ‘I’m going to the convent.’ My dad said he thought I would only last two weeks. When we were driving up the hill to the monastery, my dad said, “Connie has her castle now,” because when I was younger, I said I wanted to live in a castle.

Connie is my given name.

Favorite thing about living here: I like the flow of life. I played clarinet in my high school band, and we played solos for the sisters. Even then as a visitor, there was a peace, and I don’t know if I could have said it when I was 17, but there was a longing to be part of that. What I do for fun: I follow the Cardinals in baseball. I also follow Peyton Manning. I watched every game that I could for him. I listen to the Pacers and IU basketball, too. I also like sewing and making things.

Archive assistant, volunteer director, sacristy & tour guide Why I entered: I felt a calling to religious life. It’s hard to explain the reason. I just wanted to live a life dedicated to serving God and others in a special way.

How my family reacted: My mother was delighted that I chose the monastery. My father tried to talk me out of it, and he tried in every way to prevent me. However, as soon as I received the veil, he was overjoyed and took me around

to introduce me to all of his buddies.

Favorite thing about living here: I can be present to all the sisters and participate in the daily prayer schedule of the monastery.

What I do for fun: I enjoy playing cards – bridge, canasta, sheepshead and Egyptian rummy.

Briana Craddock, 43

Communications specialist & bakery manager assistant Age when entered: 23

Why I entered: I became a sister because I felt God was calling me to religious life. I felt at home here from the first time I visited, even though I had never met any of the women before.

How my family reacted: My family was not too pleased that I chose to enter a community in Indiana since I was living with them in Southern California at the time. My mother was angry. My sister is over 10 years younger than I am, so she missed me a lot.

Favorite thing about living here: We have beautiful grounds and wild animals such as deer, foxes, opossums, groundhogs and raccoons. Additionally, our community has drawn out talents I didn’t know I had.

What I do for fun: I like to draw, sew, paint, garden, walk and read. I also enjoy playing pickleball, and I like to sing with others.

Theresa Gunter, 49 Vocation director

Age when entered: 25

Why I entered: I became a religious because I wanted to see what it was about, because it was different. I wanted to get it out of my system. How my family reacted: They were supportive. Some of them thought I was a little crazy. They all had questions, and a lot of them knew a long time ago that I was going to end up doing something like that. Favorite thing about living here: Being surrounded by people who love me.

I love the peace that I feel. I love exploring all the different places, and I love that my life is different, and I’m doing what I think I’m supposed to be doing. What I do for fun: Hike, watch movies, play music, build bonfires, laugh, hang out with friends, play games, do things that you like to do for fun.

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Average number of habits owned

500

Most sisters at monastery at one time

Fewest sisters at monastery at one time

Age of youngest nun

Age of oldest nun

243 53.5 Bibles owned

Bowls of popcorn eaten a week

Sisters of all ages work together in various church projects. On a recent day at the monastery’s Simply Divine Bakery, Sister Jean Marie Ballard, 61, demonstrates to Sister Lynn Marie Falcony, a 29-year-old postulant, how to make the sticky pecan rolls for after Sunday’s Mass. She weighs the dough prior to rolling it out, then adds a generous sprinkling of cinnamon before cutting a strip of dough, twisting it and laying it atop a sugar-pecan mixture. The sisters also bake nine different types of cookies to be sold in their gift shop and to other companies. But their Springerle cookies are their specialty. Originally made by the sisters for Ferdinand’s Christkindlmarkt 19 years ago, the cookies tasting of black licorice are stamped with nature or Christmas scenes on molds brought from Germany. The monastery also hosts quilting socials with other religious groups in Southern Indiana and Kentucky. Permanent callouses mark Sister Leona Schlachter’s fingers from not using a thimble as she quilts. “I love it because you can be as creative as you want to be,” she says. Using her mother’s old wooden stencils, Sister Leona meticulously maps each

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FOUR

Sister Jean Marie Ballard prepares pecan rolls. /Photo by Kaitlyn Chamberlin

quilt’s stitching pattern. She’s planning a quilting social with other nearby parishes and hopes to have 30 new quilts to sell for the sesquicentennial in October. Their spiritual enrichment programs are another part of the sisters’ outreach. Workshops range from four-hour sessions to weeklong retreats covering topics such as “Forgiving What You Cannot Forget.” Sister Jane Will has master degrees in education and Christian spirituality, as well as a doctoral degree in psychology. She leads the programs with help from other sisters. “Each year, we try something new,” Sister Jane says.

People of all age and faiths are invited. “We’re always happy to have them,” Sister Jane says. “And I think that when people get here and see the campus and have a chance to experience it, they find it very peaceful.” The sisters also have a giant prayer board where people can add their prayers. Each day, all of the sisters gather and pray, their way of repairing a hurting world. For Sister Jane, this starts with believing in the mercy of the individual and of God. “I think that we can change the world if we’re really that way and if it starts with each one of us,” Sister Jane says.

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The ladies of the night

20 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

At night, the monastery’s grotto shines by candlelight, and a feeling of peace lies in the air. Inside, three women from Winamac paint a lower-level floor a deep red. They are St. Benedict’s “Ladies of the Night.” When farmer Diane Kolish, 53, saw a flyer from the monastery asking for volunteers, she shared it with friends Linda Webb, 52, a nurse, and Julie Chapman, 55, a pharmacist. They decided to make the journey to Ferdinand for a weeklong visit during the summer of 2014. “What we thought was our getaway ended up being a blessing for all of us,” Webb says. Tasked with painting the archive’s floor, the women began working in the night so to not disturb the sisters. They painted from dinnertime until around 10 p.m.,

earning their nickname. “Immediately we were impressed by how welcoming and friendly the ladies, and even the staff, was,” Webb says. “They were all so nice and funny.” During the days, volunteer coordinator Sister Mary Philip has small projects to keep them busy, like cataloging paintings. Sister Mary Philip taught them to play the card game dirty canasta, which the women now call “canasta the Benedict way.” “It doesn’t feel like you’re doing service,” Webb says. “You feel guilty because you’re having such a wonderful time.” They already have the dates picked out for their third trip. The pamphlet calls the monastery a sacred treasure, Kolish says. “But surely those sisters are the real treasure.”

Volunteer Diane Kolish works at the monastery. /Photo courtesy of Linda Webb

Take a tour of our entire portfolio by visiting www.parkermgt.com or call 812-339-2115

21 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

SECOND SIGHT

22 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

Blinded in a hunting accident 19 years ago, kayaker Lonnie Bedwell now sees life more clearly than ever.

By Liz Meuser

Lonnie paddles into the Colorado River rapids on an expedition with Erik Weihenmayer, another blind adventurer. /Photo by James Q Martin

itting at the edge of the riverbank, he listens and feels the ground pulse as whitewater peaks crash against the gorge walls. It’s day three of his journey. Only two rapids remain. In front of him looms “Morning Glory,” a Class 5 rapid, its emerald waters concealing jagged rocks in the pools below. The plan is easy enough. All he has to do is cut the wave horizontally, left, right, then over the backside. If not, he’ll hit a hole and be washed out into another by the thrashing rapids. He paddles hard and charges forward. But he hits the wave too low. The sheer force of the water flips the kayak, pinning him upside down against the wall. Struggling, he sticks his paddle against the rock and tries to push himself off, but the water forces him back. He strains his head upward to get air. The waves roar around him but he manages a breath before going back under. He’s been underwater for 45 seconds. Should he pull the spray skirt and bail? No. He’s come this far. He’s not swimming. He’s going to finish it. Down river his teammates can only wait, fearfully eyeing the kayak’s upturned hull in the white foamy waters, the camera still rolling. In Zambia, near the thundering Victoria Falls, former Navy Petty Officer Lonnie Bedwell is kayaking the Zambezi River, known for its high-volume waters, steep drops and punishing rapids. If only he could see where he was going.

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After a hunting accident blinded him 19 years ago, Bedwell, 50, a former power plant supervisor from the tiny town of Dugger, has tackled some of the world’s most challenging natural wonders. He’s kayaked the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon and hiked up Mt. Kilimanjaro. He’s been featured on the “Today” show and in Canoe & Kayak Magazine and was a National Geographic Adventurer of the Year in 2015. And, yes, he did manage to flip his kayak right side up and finish his journey down the Zambezi last summer. Though it wasn’t easy. The Zambezi, he says, was a step up from the whitewater he’d tackled before. But he’s only getting started.

24 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

I first met Lonnie at his home in Dugger, just up the road from his parents’ house and not far from the old house he grew up in. Dressed in leafy camouflage coveralls and his signature black Oakley sunglasses, he was standing in his gravel driveway with his cousin David Bedwell, ready for a day of coyote hunting. In front of the garage stood a dark green pickup truck with a flat rear tire. To the left lay a small pond. This was where Lonnie practiced Eskimo rolls, the act of righting a capsized kayak by body motion or a paddle, in preparation for the Grand Canyon trip three years ago. He was told by guides with Team River Runner, an adaptive sports organization for wounded veterans, that he wouldn’t be allowed to paddle the Colorado River unless he rolled a kayak 1,000 times. He stopped counting at 1,500. Hunting novice that I am, I arrived in a white North Face jacket and UGG boots. I was swiftly provided with a pair of camouflage coveralls and size 8 men’s boots. The trail was slick and soggy. “It’s sloppy today,” Lonnie says, listening to the soft squish of our boots. Lonnie still regularly hunts deer and turkey. He was turkey hunting the day his friend Tim Hale accidentally shot him in the face. Now a guide helps him aim, looking over Lonnie’s shoulder before giving him the signal to pull the trigger. David walks up ahead, signaling audial clues of things on the path Lonnie can’t see. He kicks a log. Smacks a tree. With short staccato taps, Lonnie feels for the edge of the path with his red walking stick and hears the click of the point on gravel and the swish of the long grass off to the side. The stick’s red paint is shedding from wear and tear. He listens

Alone in the woods, Lonnie pictured his three daughters. He didn’t want to forget their faces. to the breeze rustle, and he knows we’re surrounded by trees. Open fields are the hardest to navigate. But through it all, he manages to find his way.

It was still dark when Tim picked him up that Sunday morning in 1997. Lonnie had shot a turkey the day before and was going along to sound the calls for Tim. He didn’t have a gun with him. They’d been walking in the woods less than a mile from Lonnie’s house when they separated so he could do the calls. All at once he felt a presence around him. The birds stopped singing. The wind quit rustling the leaves. He could tell something was wrong. Instinctively he ducked, going to his knees as he brought his hands up to his face. Then he heard the gun go off. The impact flipped him onto his stomach, and everything went black. He struggled upright and reached up to wipe his eyes so he could see. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing. That’s when he knew. By that time, Tim had found him. Tim, an emergency room nurse, began to pick up Lonnie and put him over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” Lonnie asked. “I’m gonna carry you out of here,” Tim said. “You can’t carry me out of here.” “I got to. You’re gonna be dead.” “Tim, put me down.” “I can’t leave you. You’ll be dead before I get back.” “Tim you gotta leave me. I’ll be dead before you get me out of here. My best chance is for you to leave and go get help.” Tim obliged. He set Lonnie up against a tree and stuck a finger down Lonnie’s throat to clear the blood. Then he left. Alone in the woods, Lonnie pictured his three daughters: Courtney, Ashley and Taylor. He didn’t want to forget their faces.

Lonnie ‘Pooch’ Todd, Tim’s cousin and

Lonnie does some target shooting in the woods near his house. His cousin helps him aim the rifle. /Photo by Liz Meuser

Lonnie’s childhood friend, was off duty that day from his volunteer position at the local fire department. He heard about the shot on the radio before he got a call. He drove to the woods and got to Lonnie first. Lonnie’s camouflage clothing was soaked with blood. Pooch was sure he was looking at a dead man. He took a deep breath and paused before signaling the other responders. “I found him.” They loaded Lonnie onto a stretcher and carried him to the shore of a nearby lake where a boat waited to transport him to a helicopter. His dad arrived on the scene. Jerry Bedwell, a stout former welder and coal miner, known by everyone simply as “Birdie” for his trademark flip of the bird, climbed in next to his son.

Lonnie was still conscious but couldn’t speak. He wanted to let his dad know he was thinking about him. Mustering all his remaining energy, he squeezed Birdie’s hand. “Yeah, yeah, what’s going on?” Birdie said, swallowing hard. Lonnie flipped him off.

Miraculously, Lonnie survived a full shotgun blast to the face. The first x-ray showed 85 pellets. He doesn’t know how many he still has left. “You can still feel some that didn’t go through my skull,” he says. “I know I have some up into my throat and nose.” When he woke up in the recovery room

at the hospital, the doctor told him he didn’t know how he hadn’t bled to death. Fifteen more minutes and he wouldn’t have made it. Lonnie struggled with the recovery. He lost 50 pounds, and his eyes were in excruciating pain. Local doctors suggested removing them and replacing them with prosthetics. But Lonnie wanted a second opinion. He flew to the Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, where they recommended he keep his eyes in as long as he could. To numb the pain, they used a syringe to give him an alcohol block in both eyes. “It hurt worse than getting shot,” he says. “I could feel the doctor’s tears dropping on my hand as she gave me the shots.”

Back in his hotel room that night, he lay there in silence. No TV. No sound. Just sitting in the darkness with his thoughts. He didn’t know what he was going to do, or how he was going to do it. He just knew it wouldn’t be easy. “Your mindset, it takes you places,” Lonnie says. “But I didn’t really ask ‘why’ too much.” The alcohol block eased some of the pain so he could start focusing on recovery. But trying to do the small, everyday things proved the hardest and the most frustrating — things like regaining his balance and dealing with carsickness. Then one day, about three months after losing his eyesight, Lonnie decided he’d sat around the house long enough. He wanted to go outside.

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“Blindness will always be a part of me. But I see better now than I ever have.”

Lonnie sits at home with his daughter Ashley, who sometimes worries about her dad’s adventures. /Photo by Michael Williams

26 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

Grabbing a broom handle from the closet, he ventured out toward his barn. He had no clue where he was going. Slowly he walked to the edge of his field, running straight into overgrown weeds. Frustrated, he turned back. His 5-year-old daughter, Taylor, known as “Bug,” was standing on the porch. She was wearing a sundress, rubber boots and a backwards ball cap over her blond hair. “Daddy what’s wrong?” she asked. “I’m a little frustrated.” Stomping her foot, with her hand on her hip, she asked, “Daddy, why are you frustrated?” “Well, I can’t get into my barn without walking through chest-high weeds, and I can’t see no more.” “I’ll help you,” she said. With that, she took his hand and led him to the garage. Inside, she helped him find the riding lawnmower. With Bug sitting on his lap, Lonnie rode out to the yard as she gave him directions, and then he mowed a small patch of grass. Minutes later, Birdie pulled into the driveway. Furious, he told Lonnie that if he needed help, he would do it or find someone who could. But to Lonnie that wasn’t the point. Bug had let him see he wasn’t helpless. He could still do things on his own. “You see that little girl right there?” Lonnie told Birdie. “Well, to her and her two sisters, my name’s Daddy. It hasn’t changed.”

To the three girls, he was still the man. From that day, Lonnie slowly began to improve. He started walking around his property and through the neighborhood, pushing himself a little more each day. He helped out with construction projects on family members’ houses. “It was just that powerful of a moment to me,” Lonnie recalls, “to make me realize that I was still wanted, was still needed, was still loved and still could.”

For years following his accident, people tried to get him to go to a rehab center for the blind. But Lonnie refused. His main focus was caring for his three girls, who were 5, 9 and 11 at the time. He and the girls’ mother divorced after the accident, and he was a single father. He vowed he wouldn’t go until his girls had graduated from high school. About 13 years after the accident, in 2010, Lonnie finally went to a rehab center for the blind. Two years later, he was invited to an adaptive winter sports clinic in Colorado. There Lonnie first met with Team River Runner. His first time in a kayak was in a recreational swimming pool. If you attempted a roll, you could win a t-shirt. He got one. That July, he joined the team at the Out of Sight Clinic on the Yellowstone River in Montana, his first whitewater trip. It was then that director Joe Mornini brought up

the idea of the Grand Canyon. Fast forward one year. Lonnie is waiting on the bank of the Colorado River. The water thrashes at 19,000 to 21,000 cubic feet per minute. Before that day, he hadn’t kayaked anything larger than 2,000. What had he gotten himself into? “I didn’t have the confidence that I could do the canyon,” Lonnie says. “I just had the desire to do it.” Whether he’s kayaking or walking around, he maintains an attitude of relaxed contemplation. Controlled chaos, he calls it. “Personally, I think all the training I had in the military helps me with that.” Lonnie spent 12 years in the service — nine as a nuclear machinist on a Navy submarine and three in the National Guard. Part of his training was knowing what to do in the dark. His mother, Sherry Bedwell, believes that was an omen. When he launched his kayak on the Colorado River that day, it wasn’t until he made it through his first big rapid that he began to feel he could do it. He’d been told to expect to swim several times and maybe even ride in the raft. Mornini had told Lonnie’s guide not to let him run some of the tougher rapids. But Lonnie ran every one, paddled every mile and only swam twice. On the last four miles, he glided down the river, an American flag flying out the back of his life jacket. When he called Mornini after completing the trip, Mornini broke down.

“Do you realize what you’ve just done?” he asked. “Yeah,” Lonnie said. “I had a heck of a great time kayaking the Colorado River.”

When Lonnie’s in the kayak, he steers his own ship. The three things he misses most in life are driving himself where he wants to go, viewing the beauty of nature and seeing his children and grandchildren’s faces. What comes closest to giving him back the first of those things is the kayak. Kyle Thomas has guided Lonnie on many outings through Peace of Adventure, a program for disabled veterans. Thomas also helped Lonnie get ready for his Grand Canyon trip at the Olympic whitewater training center in North Carolina. “Kayaking is generally an individual sport, but working with Lonnie, it quickly becomes a team sport,” Thomas says. Being a guide forces you to become a better communicator, he says. But the ultimate reward comes from helping someone reach a goal. “Seeing him excel to the point where he’s surpassing those of us who are guiding him — there’s something intrinsically valuable about that.” For Lonnie, the greatest satisfaction comes from helping veterans overcome personal barriers. He says that dark period after an injury is like a prison where you are surrounded by metaphorical walls with no way around, under or through them. Then, someone comes along with a vision of what’s on the other side of those walls and helps lead you through. “I’ve been led there, so it’d be selfish of me to stay on that side without going back through and helping someone just like I was,” he says. “That’s my duty now.” That’s why he returns every year as a mentor at the Yellowstone clinic where he got his start. And while his family isn’t always keen on some of the trips he takes, all agree he’s where he belongs. “Every time, I’m a nervous wreck. That’s the mother in me,” Sherry says. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.” As Birdie puts it, Lonnie already has a big enough obstacle in front of him for the rest of his life. Why add to that burden by saying he can’t do something? “Sometimes I don’t understand, but then I’m not supposed to understand. I’m dad,” Birdie says with a chuckle. “You at least have to give him the credit for having the fortitude to go out and do it.” His daughters aren’t surprised by his adventures anymore, but Courtney, now a mother herself, and Ashley, still worry from time to time about the danger.

But Taylor, who doesn’t remember when her father wasn’t blind, doesn’t want him playing it safe. “He’s living,” she says. “He’s doing his thing now. He put his life on hold, and now it’s his turn to live his life again. If he can go full throttle and have fun until he can’t do it anymore, that’s all I care about.” In March, Lonnie completed a week of kayaking in the Florida Keys with friend and fellow blind veteran Steve Baskis. The two sailed alone in Hobie tandem kayaks, navigating with the help of voice commands on iPhones and iPads. When they weren’t on the water, they hosted speaking engagements with visually

“We as people are blinded by our eyesight from our true vision.” impaired children and young adults as part of Baskis’ foundation Blind Endeavors. In May, he’ll host his first event. Five blind veterans, including Baskis, will join him for a guided turkey hunt in his hometown. As for his next adventures, he plans to do more kayaking and climb the Devil’s Tower in Wyoming. Other international excursions are in the works, but due to sponsor involvement, he isn’t authorized to talk about them.

Today, blindness does not define Lonnie. “Blindness is a part of me. It will always be a part of me,” Lonnie says. “But I see better now than I ever have.” Acceptance is a cornerstone in his life and his principle in overcoming adversity. “How do you overcome it? You break it down,” he tells veterans and kids. A, acknowledge it and then accept it. Accept what? D, the difficulties and the differences. Then you move on to the VER, visualize every road you can take and realize there are multiple routes. Next, S, stand up and step. Where? ITY, in to you, who you are and who you can be. “I really think we as people are blinded by our eyesight. Our eyesight blinds us from our true vision. What I mean by that is that when you see something, you get so focused on it that you miss out on everything around you.” Losing his eyesight gave him the opportunity to slow down, think more and really

appreciate life. His childhood friend Pooch sees that. “When he started doing all this stuff — kayaking, climbing — he wasn’t out to prove to anybody he could do that. He was proving it to himself,” he says. But Lonnie says there were and still are frustrations. “Today, if I start to get frustrated and say, Gosh if I could just see, I instantly stop what I’m doing and think, When you could see, you couldn’t do this, this and this. So what’s the difference? You’re no different.” And through it all, he has never lost his sense of humor. About a year after the accident, Lonnie was visiting his cousin’s house with his brother Larry. He decided he wanted to drive home. After all, it was his truck, and his license was still valid. So he did. Larry sat in the passenger seat, occasionally tweaking the steering wheel, telling him to slow down or move left or right as they drove down the rural highway to Lonnie’s house. Coming up the road towards them was Birdie’s old truck. “Uh oh, here comes Dad the other way,” Larry said. “Tell me when to wave,” Lonnie said. What Lonnie didn’t know at the time was that Larry ducked down when they passed Birdie. All Birdie saw was Lonnie, alone behind the wheel, smiling and waving as he cruised past.

Nearly 20 years after the accident, with everything lost and gained, Lonnie says he wouldn’t change a thing. “There’s been too many things going on in my life, too many good things, gifts given to me and to others. How could you go back and take those away to change it?” Instead, he quotes a Garth Brooks song. “I wouldn’t want to miss the dance.”

ONLINE EXTRA Lonnie Bedwell talks about the freedom of being on the water and demonstrates Eskimo rolls with a GoPro camera. Go to 812magazine.com to watch the video.

27 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

FORK

IN THE ROAD

AN INSIDER’S GUIDE TO SOUTHERN INDIANA CUISINE By Lanie Maresh, Hannah Lavine and Harley Wiltsey

28 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

hen it comes to cooking a traditional meal in Southern Indiana, we don’t mess around. No one is better than we are when it comes to serving up crispy pork tenderloin, a steaming bowl of beef and noodles or a sweet slice of sugar cream pie. But we’re not afraid to try something new. Today, an abundance of local, fresh ingredients allows us to create a variety of farm-to-table dishes that stem from many different cultures. Our culinary roots date back to the early 1800s, when immigrants from Kentucky and Virginia arrived and let their hogs, the main source of meat at the time, run free in Indiana’s forests. These settlers eventually formed communities and tended small farms but still relied on hunting small game and kept their meals simple. Richard Wilk, professor and director of the food studies program in the anthropology department at Indiana University, says settlers lived on a diet of corn, salt pork and beans. “Not a very elaborate cuisine, but one that you could provide with not a great deal of work,” Wilk says. “Plain, but solid American cooking.” Over time, our towns and cities grew, and our sources of meat and

produce expanded. But, for the most part, we still enjoyed the comfort dishes our forebears had perfected. It’s only in the last decade or so that we’ve started to think more elaborately when it comes to our food. Gethin Thomas, chef and proprietor of the Henry Social Club restaurant in Columbus, says the farm-totable movement, where consumers seek out fresh meat and produce from local farmers, has caught on in Southern Indiana, and he predicts it will continue to grow. “The pleasure you get from eating a real green bean is much greater than if you ate a green bean that came from a frozen bag or something that got picked three weeks ago and made its way here from a foreign place,” Thomas says. “The energy in the food is completely different.” He’s not alone in that belief. Many restaurants — and consumers — have started sourcing their ingredients

locally. We can buy meats from Fischer Farms, eggs from Rhodes Family Farm and goat cheese from Capriole Farm. On weekends, we shop at nearby farmers’ markets, which have more than doubled in the last decade. So come join our food adventure as we revisit some of the traditional foods of the past and explore how local chefs are shaping the way we look at food today. You’ll discover restaurants worth the drive and meet top Yelpers who have made their mark in the world of online food talk. You can explore the ethnic restaurants on Fourth Street in Bloomington or try the a spicy bowl of goulash, a traditional German dish, in Jasper. You’re in for a delicious treat of history, recipes and even a few cooking tips to get yourself into the kitchen — the Southern Indiana way.

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CHEFS’ TIPS

FINDING THE CLASSICS

We asked three professional chefs for advice to get you cooking up traditional dishes and new favorites.

When we think of classic Southern Indiana food, our minds immediately jump to a golden, breaded pork tenderloin, a spicy persimmon pudding or a tender slice of sugar cream pie. 6

/Photo by Harley Wiltsey

Chef Ed Ellis

Chef Watez Phelps

Thomas is known for his sophisticated cooking with a fresh, local taste. Formerly the executive chef at Cummins Inc., he is now the proprietor and executive chef of Henry Social Club in Columbus.

Ellis has more than three decades of experience as an executive chef with private clubs, hotels and healthcare companies. For the past 17 years, he has been the chef instructor at the Southern Indiana Career and Technical Center in Evansville and a mentor to many aspiring chefs.

Phelps is an associate professor and chair of hospitality administration at Ivy Tech Community College in Evansville.

Always keep lemons or citrus in your refrigerator. You can use it to brighten up almost anything. “Lemon on a salad in olive oil with a little bit of vinegar and some Dijon mustard is a great way to start a meal.” Keep it simple. It’s super important to buy fresh and local ingredients. “Then as you get better and more confident, you can grow your personal repertoire of recipes.”

NEXT TREND?

The influence of other cultures. "There’s a mom-and-pop Thai restaurant opening in Columbus. Two years ago it was a Vietnamese restaurant, and now we have two or three authentic Mexican restaurants. The food is absolutely incredible.”

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/Photo courtesy of Watez Phelps

Chef Gethin Thomas

Buy good olive oil. “Olive oil is almost like a magic ingredient. It’s almost like cheating in a way, because if you get really good olive oil, the fat coats your mouth with a great flavor and aroma.”

/Photo courtesy of Ed Ellis

Practice. “And then be open to suggestions, whether it’s from someone else or from the product of the season. Sometimes we get stuck in a rut and have the same old thing all the time. When something new comes around, it’s kind of a nice change for you.” Be creative. Don’t be afraid to try something you didn’t like before. “Do it a different way. Look for another angle or avenue.” Have fun. “You have to enjoy it. It can’t be drudgery for you.”

NEXT TREND?

The farm-to-table movement. “There’s a lot more variety for customers who like to eat out and those who want to cook at home. It’s just not all salt, steak and potatoes in Indiana, which is a big plus.”

Best Food I’ve Ever Eaten From donuts to goat cheese, these Southern Indiana residents shared their favorite meals.

Alisha Sims, owner of Alisha Sims Photography, Evansville /Photo courtesy of Alisha Sims

Do your research. “Read plenty of periodicals, such as food magazines.” Have the basics on hand. “Every kitchen should have kosher salt, black pepper, white pepper, garlic, thyme, sage and oregano.” Plan ahead. The French term “mise en place” means have everything in place before you begin cooking. Have all your tools and ingredients assembled before you start.”

Photo courtesy of Brau Haus

THE PORK TENDERLOIN

PERSIMMON PUDDING

SUGAR CREAM PIE

In Indiana, the tenderloins are big, the buns are small and the breading is plentiful. The sandwich is believed by some food historians to have originated at Nick’s Kitchen in Huntington. Tenderloins vary from place to place but typically come with standard toppings such as tomato, lettuce, onion, pickles and mayonnaise.

Persimmons grow abundantly in the 812 region and can be used for anything from brandy to pudding. Persimmon pudding is typically available only during the fall months after the persimmons have fallen from the trees. The persimmons are gathered, pureed and frozen to be used later on.

Simply a pie shell filled with a mixture of cream, sugar, flour and butter, this pie originated with the Amish and Shaker communities that settled in the state in the 1800s. “It is also known as desperation pie,” says Lindsey Skeen at the Indiana Foodways Alliance. That’s because it could be made out of items in the house when fresh fruit was unavailable or unaffordable.

NEXT TREND?

Summertime fresh vegetables. “Once, a magazine called me and said they’d like to use a recipe for their publication. I went to the farmers’ market and got five different types of tomatoes, wonderful spring onions and what have you. I made this classic tomato dish I used to eat as a kid. They liked it so much that I saw the recipe in three different editions. Sometimes we want to over-apply cooking to things when a lot of stuff, such as our vegetables, are excellent raw with just a very light dressing.”

“

The half-and-half plate from Sauced in Evansville. It’s half fettuccine alfredo with fried chicken and half spaghetti with meat sauce and one meatball. It’s the best of both worlds.

”

FIND THEM HERE:

1 2

FIND THEM HERE:

BRAU HAUS

22170 Water St., Oldenburg www.oldenburgbrauhaus.com $6.95

STORIES RESTAURANT

109 E. Main St., Greensburg www.storiesrestaurant.com $5.10 sandwich or $8.40 platter

/Photo courtesy of Joshua Bell

Joshua Bell, violinist and senior lecturer in music at IU, Bloomington

3 4

“

FIND THEM HERE:

MILLER’S ICE CREAM HOUSE 61 W. Main St., Nashville millericecream.com $6.60

PERSIMMON FESTIVAL

Main Street in Mitchell www.persimmonfestival.org September 17-24, 2016

Hinkle’s Hamburgers, especially because it is next to Rac n’ Cue.

”

AHLEMEYER FARMS OLD TYME BAKERY

NASHVILLE GENERAL STORE & BAKERY

2034 17th St., Columbus ahlemeyerbakery.com $10 a pie

118 E. Washington St., Nashville nashvillegeneralstoreandbakery.com $3.99 a slice

Christine Barbour, author of Home Grown Indiana, Bloomington /Photo courtesy of Christine Barbour

“” Goat cheese from Capriole Farms in Greenville.

31 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

GRAB YOUR KEYS!

UNDER $10

RESTAURANTS WORTH THE DRIVE

Story Inn

6404 STATE ROAD 135, SOUTHWEST OF NASHVILLE STORYINN.COM $$$

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Above: Slices of juicy, seared pork loin sit on a strip of sweet aoli and are topped with watercress and Castelvetrano olives. /Photo by Harley Wiltsey

Left: The rustic exterior of the Story Inn contrasts with the fine food served inside. /Photo by Harley Wiltsey

309 WALNUT ST., JONESVILLE FACEBOOK.COM $

You’ll need to be 21 for this stop. The Brick in Jonesville is a classic dive bar and home to the Brick Burger, cooked with grilled onions and optionally topped with cheese.

MORE THAN $31

“I always get mine with the grilled onions and deluxed, so it's a big, juicy, nasty, unhealthy delicious mess” says Erikka Thompson, a frequent visitor. “It might be a bar, but if you’ve grown up around there, it became a family tradition. Of course, everyone needs to try it at least once.” Other menu items include hot dogs, ham and smoked sausage sandwiches and a popular combination, the Brick Burger with chili. Be sure to stop by an ATM first: The Brick accepts only cash.

709 W. MAIN ST., MADISON CRYSTALANDJULES.COM $$

One of Crystal & Jules's most popular menu items is the Costa Rican New York strip. The 12-ounce steak is marinated for three days and starts off spicy but finishes sweet. /Photo courtesy of Crystal & Jules

118 W. MAIN ST., NEW ALBANY EXCHANGEFORFOOD.COM

Tre Bicchieri

425 WASHINGTON ST., COLUMBUS TREBICCHIERICOLUMBUS.COM $$

served with two sides, which can include bronzed cauliflower, butternut squash, Brussels sprouts, mashed potatoes, salad, soup or handmade fettuccine. Crystal & Jules takes the extra step of making all its pasta in-house and by hand. “Nobody else does it,” says chef and owner Andy Richmer.

The Exchange Pub + Kitchen

Housed in a historic 1875 building, The Exchange Pub + Kitchen is anything but stodgy. Executive chef Matt Weirich takes pride in seasonal menus featuring locally sourced ingredients. “We believe that a product from just down the road will always be much fresher, healthier and taste better than something that has been raised or grown half way around the world,” he says. Menu items include dishes such as French-cut pork chops, blackened salmon

Crystal & Jules

Since its opening in 2011, Crystal and Jules has dominated the upscale dining scene in Madison. In 2012, Best of Madison gave the restaurant the best steak and best dessert awards. Using fresh ingredients, Crystal and Jules serves up gourmet cuisine. The most popular item is the 12-ounce Costa Rican New York strip, which is marinated for three days in 18 ingredients. It starts out spicy, but finishes with a sweet flavor. It's

The Brick

$11-$30

$$$

AVERAGE PRICE OF A MEAL INCLUDING ENTRÉE, DRINK, TAX AND TIP

Southern Indiana eateries run the gamut from cozy mom-and-pop diners to fine restaurants. Whether you’re in the mood for a fresh-off-the-grill onion burger or slices of pork loin with Castelvetrano olives, these eateries make great road trips. 812 scrolled through Yelp ratings to help us compile places worth hopping in the car for.

Tucked away in the hills just south of Brown County State Park, the Story Inn is housed in a 1916 general store. While the exterior may be old and rusted, inside you'll find gourmet, innovative cooking. Using fresh and local ingredients, executive chef Eric Swanson creates elegant plates that highlight Hoosier cuisine. “We want to showcase authentic Indiana, and only put food on the menu that is in-season and fresh in the state,” co-owner Jacob Ebel says. “We only work with what we can get.” Just a short walk from the entrance to the Story Inn is the restaurant’s garden. What the inn can’t grow, they source locally. Meats from Fischer Farms in Bloomington and Viking Farms in Morristown are on the menu alongside ingredients from Martinsville, Seymour and Nashville. “It just makes sense,” Ebel says. “It’s the only way I ever operated.” The menu changes daily, and dishes range from a juicy and hand-seared pork loin served on a bed of sweet aioli and Castelvetrano olives to grilled winter squash to pork ragout. A wedge salad of roasted Brussels sprouts, blue cheese, prosciutto and smoked croutons primes the palate for further courses. Once they finish dinner, guests can explore the surrounding property or spend a night in one of the guesthouses or rooms, complete with a ghost. But that’s another story.

tacos and salads straight from the garden. You can find ingredients on their menu sourced from Clarksville, Ramsey, New Albany and Louisville. Their most popular menu item is the Exchange Burger, topped with Gorgonzola, sautéed Portobello mushrooms and caramelized onions. It’s served with a bed of Parmesan and garlic frites.

If you want a taste of Italy, this finedining Italian restaurant boasts ingredients, wines and beers, and a coffee blend that are almost entirely locally sourced. “We make everything from scratch, use local growers when available and grow our own basil in the summer to make pesto and freeze to use year-

The Exchange burger, a ground beef patty topped with arugula, mushrooms, onion and gorgonzola on a pretzel bun, is one of the most popular dishes at The Exchange Pub + Kitchen. /Photo courtesy of The Exchange Pub + Kitchen

round,” says owner Kelly Glick. “Our wine list features smaller wineries, and our beer list is 90 percent Indiana breweries. We have a local roaster, Crownlinks, who has a special blend just for us.” The most popular menu items include the house-made soups, the grilled salmon and the apple manchego with fig jam.

33 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

GLOBAL DINING IN THE 812 REGION

MEET THE YELPERS

Goulash, pad Thai, chicken tikka masala: These dishes may not sound like classic Hoosier cuisine. But Southern Indiana is home to people of many cultures that add spice to our palates. So let’s take a tour of the world right in our backyard.

BLOOMINGTON’S FOURTH STREET ANATOLIA RESTAURANT

405 E. Fourth St. (812) 334-2991 $$ Turkish, Mediterranean Popular dish: Pides, kebabs

409 E. Fourth St. (812) 339-2735 $$ Korean Popular dish: Bibimbap

MANDALAY RESTAURANT

413 E. Fourth St. (812) 339-7334 $$ Burmese Popular dish: Chicken pho

SOUTH DUNN ST.

EAST 4TH ST.

KOREA RESTAURANT

SOUTH GRANT ST.

“You can tour the world by eating at Fourth Street,” says Carol Kugler, food and outdoor editor of The Herald-Times. People from all over the globe have settled in Bloomington, bringing their favorite dishes with them. Fourth Street boasts nine ethnic restaurants and is the spot for Thai, Mediterranean, Korean and Indian food. “You cannot find a similar street in other places,” says Sibel Cekic, owner of Anatolia. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

ANYETASANG’S LITTLE TIBET 415 E Fourth St. (812) 331-0122 $$ East Asian Popular dish: Mo Mo

SIAM HOUSE

430 E 4th Street (812) 331-1233 $$

TASTE OF INDIA

316 E. Fourth St. (812) 333-1399 $$ Indian Popular dish: Butter chicken

MY THAI CAFE

Thai 402 E. Fourth St. (812) 333-3993 $$ Popular dish: Pad Thai

D O: ASIAN FUSION CUISINE & LOUNGE

Thai Popular dish: Pad Thai

INDIA GARDEN

404 E. Fourth St. (812) 333-7470 $$ Asian fusion

Popular dish: Chicken fried rice

416 E. Fourth St. (812) 331-8844 $$ Indian Popular dish: Chicken tikka masala

You’re feeling adventurous, and you’ve been eyeing that new restaurant on the edge of town. But something stops you: the fear of being disappointed. So, what do you do? Check the Yelp reviews, of course. Yelp has posted 95 million written reviews that let customers preview a restaurant before investing their time and money. The Southern Indiana Yelp Elite Squad comprises the top reviewers in our area, and they have a badge on their profiles to prove it. Yelp elites are invited to gatherings, parties and openings of businesses, and their reviews carry more weight on the site. We’ve rounded up the top three 812-region Yelpers, who've reviewed restaurants from Bloomington to the Ohio River, to get their take on favorite restaurants.

SOUTHERN INDIANA’S RHINE VALLEY

34 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

“You got the roast beef?” an older lady calls across the dark wood-paneled bar. “Yeah!” answers a gentleman sitting alone. “Just like mom used to make,” she says, with a hint of nostalgia. These two regulars at the Schnitzelbank Restaurant in Jasper want classic German dishes just like their ancestors used to make. In 1961, Larry Hanselman decided to change his tavern into an establishment that could give customers just that. “He started asking around to families here in town if they had any old German recipes that came over from Germany that he could buy,” explains Alan Hanselman, Larry's son and co-owner of Schnitzelbank. Larry was able to get recipes for goulash, sauerbraten and Wiener Schnitzel. “We’ve kept those recipes all these years,” Hanselman says. “It was the food that made the place.” Alan says the sampler platter, which gives the customer a choice of three different meats, is a must. Be warned: It’s big enough to feed a family. Although Ramona Münzer, owner of German Café in French Lick, is a newcomer by comparison, she feels the same way

about authenticity. When a family friend from Paoli visited Münzer’s home in Würzburg, Germany, she insisted that Southern Indiana needed a restaurant with Münzer's food. Münzer, who had never run a restaurant before, tossed around the idea with her family for a couple of years. Finally, she decided eight years ago to move to French Lick. German Café has been in business for six years. “We do it fresh, we don’t overdo our menu,” she says. The dishes are recipes from her husband’s side of the family, and the baked goods recipes from hers. Together with their three children, daughter-in-law and son-in-law, they run the cozy cafe not far from the French Lick Resort. Münzer advises visitors to order the grosse platter fuer, which is like a buffet right at your table, or the Jeagerschnitzel, a pan-fried breaded pork tenderloin covered in a creamy mushroom gravy.

SCHNITZELBANK RESTAURANT 393 Third Ave., Jasper (812) 482- 2640 $$

GERMAN CAFE

452 S. Maple St., French Lick (812) 936-1111 $$

The Sampler Platter at Schnitzelbank features three different meats, a side of German fries and a vegetable. /Photo courtesy of Schnitzelbank

With his wife. /Photo courtesy of Kyle Snyder

Kyle Snyder NEW ALBANY YELPER SINCE NOV. 2011 275 REVIEWS 4 FOLLOWERS

TOP 3 YELPIEST RESTAURANTS IN THE 812 REGION $= $10 and under, $$= $11-$30 $$$= $31-$60

Best Food I’ve Ever Eaten

Kristie Tomes JEFFERSONVILLE YELPER SINCE JUNE 2013 482 REVIEWS 17 FOLLOWERS

/Photo courtesy of Kristie Tomes

It all began with a simple Google search. Kristie Tomes, 39, was looking up a Mediterranean restaurant when she clicked the Yelp reviews. “I started looking at it and thought, I can do this,” she says. Her first review was for that restaurant. An elite since she began writing reviews in 2013, Kristie has racked up 482 reviews, posted 922 photos, and has received 159 compliments on her reviews. Kristie doesn’t mess around with her reviews. She Kyle Snyder from New Albany has been a Yelp elite since 2012. “I’ve been elevated to the elite status, so I almost feel a responsibility to continue to post.” It has pushed Kyle to write 275 reviews. Originally from the town of Brazil, Kyle moved to Los Angeles after graduating from Indiana University. In LA, his friends started using Yelp to find worthy restaurants and bars. Kyle moved back to the Hoosier state and found a home in New Albany. He saw an opportunity to mix his passion for writing with the new restaurants to evaluate. “My wife and I started going to different places, and I wanted to share the experiences and help the small local restaurants and get them out

1 MAYASARI INDONESIAN GRILL 213 N. Broadway St., Greensburg 812-222-6292 $$ Indonesian, ethnic

gets to the point of why she did or didn’t like the establishment and what she ate, and she always adds photos. A mother of three, Kristie also likes to say whether the restaurant is kid-friendly. One is her favorite restaurant, the Come Back Inn in Jeffersonville. Her favorite dish on the menu is the Hot Brown: an open-face sandwich of Texas toast topped with a tender turkey breast, crispy bacon, tomato and mornay sauce. Don’t miss out on this Louisville classic. there more,” Kyle says. A 36-year-old product manager, he writes reviews that tell a story. He takes the reader through his experience at each restaurant and always hits on four main topics: the environment, the overall feeling, the service and, of course, the quality of food. “There are a number of phenomenal places in Southern Indiana that are among the best places I’ve been to,” Kyle says. Some of his preferred restaurants are The Exchange Pub + Kitchen and Feast BBQ in New Albany and the Irish Lion in Bloomington. But his favorite is the New Albanian Brewing Company Pizzeria and Public House in New Albany. As he writes in his five-star review: “Go there. Do it.”

2 SOGNO DELLA TERRA

901 Washington St., Columbus 812-783-0569 $$ Cafe

/Photo courtesy of Jordan Shea

Jordan Shea, social media manager for the IU branch of Spoon University, Greenwood

“ ” Plain glazed donuts from the Donut Bank in Evansville.

With wife, Pam /Photo courtesy of Brian Gilliland

Brian Gilliland, equipment salesman for JW Jones Company, Spencer

“

Fried chicken at McKinley Orchard Restaurant in Oaktown. I like it because it’s wonderful. It’s all homemade.

”

3 CRYSTAL & JULES

709 W. Main St., Madison 812-274-1077 $$ American

35 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

Painting the light

Our landscapes have drawn artists past and present. By Sami Aronowitz and Michael Williams

On a foggy autumn morning,

you stand atop a Brown County hill, a bare canvas resting on your easel. In the distance, a soft purple haze tints the Indiana sky, and vivid yellow leaves coat the sycamores. To capture this scene, you must paint quickly. The longer you paint outdoors, the greater the shift in natural light. “Midwestern lighting is unique in that the air is really moist most of the time,” says Rachel Berenson Perry, author of Paint and Canvas: A Life of T.C. Steele. “There’s a lot in the atmosphere here that makes things bluer or more purple, especially on a foggy day.” That light and the landscape it illuminates lured many artists, such as T.C. Steele, J. Ottis Adams and William Forsyth, to the hills of Southern Indiana. Known as the Hoosier Group, they sought a simple life where they could focus on their artwork.

“After the late 1800s, artists were no longer stuck painting portraits inside a studio. They painted outdoors in a much looser and more colorful style,” says Lyn Letsinger-Miller, author of The Artists of Brown County. “It was called ‘painting the light,’ as opposed to ‘painting the subject.’” Today, artists here paint many of the same landscapes as the artists of the Hoosier Group. However, not everything looks as it once did. “Historical artists had these big, long views of Southern Indiana. Everything was clear-cut, and you could just look out at all directions,” LetsingerMiller says. “But the forest is all grown up now, and our towns are more built up, too.” 812 explores the past and present of Southern Indiana landscape painting in the work of T.C. Steele and two contemporary artists. Through words and photography, we offer a fresh look at the enigmatic light that has drawn landscape artists here for over a century.

T.C. Steele

1847-1926 • Owen County • Oil Often cited as the pioneer

36 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

T.C. Steele’s “Figures in the Road,” 1911. /Courtesy of Brown County Art Gallery

of Indiana landscape paintings, Steele captured the natural beauty of Indiana landscapes by experimenting with light, colorful palettes and broken brushwork. “His timing was noteworthy,” Perry says. “He painted Southern Indiana impressionistic landscapes in the early 1900s, which there wasn’t a market for just yet. He also didn’t have the most prominent name in places like New York but still made a living off his artwork.” After studying art in Munich for five years, Steele returned to Indianapolis in 1885. In the 1890s, he started traveling around Southern Indiana. He wanted to paint what he knew best: the scenic landscapes of rural Indiana. “Steele was an Owen County native, but later fell in love with Brown County,” Letsinger-Miller says. “He didn’t want civilization or the trappings of a city or town. He was looking for a primitive environment to paint in, one that would give him more exposure to nature.” Steele liked to illustrate the natural light of

Southern Indiana in all seasons, but mostly during the warmer months of summer and autumn. Although he made a living by painting portraits in his studio, he preferred painting landscapes outdoors. He often wandered around his Brown County home and studio, called the House of the Singing Winds, to paint the surroundings that comforted and inspired him. More than 50 of Steele’s impressionist paintings are displayed at his home, now part of the T.C. Steele State Historic Site, between Nashville and Bloomington. “Steele opened Hoosiers’ eyes to the subtle beauty of Southern Indiana,” Perry says. “We don’t have dramatic landscape features, like mountains and oceans, but Steele’s landscapes made people realize our hills and woods are beautiful on their own. We get to see views that no longer exist.”

WHERE TO SEE T.C. STEELE’S WORK T.C. Steele State Historic Site, Indiana State Museum, Brown County Art Gallery, IU Art Museum, Indiana Memorial Union

37 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

Ken Bucklew 59 • Spencer • Oil, pencil

/Photo by Michael Williams

Ken Bucklew might

38 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

drive past the same spot 20 times and never notice it. Maybe it was overcast, or the wrong time of day. “But when you see it after a rain, 5:30 in the afternoon, strong side light and mist coming up, it looks spectacular,” Ken says. That scene may well be the basis for his next painting, which he’ll create at his home in Spencer, just across the street from McCormick’s Creek State Park. It’s the perfect location, he says, as all the colors and trees of Southern Indiana are right there in front of him. “I’m inspired just looking out my window. I’m inspired just by the things I see every day, right here,” Ken says. “I tell people I’ve got 10 lifetimes’ worth of stuff to do within 10 minutes of the house. And I really do.” Ken took an interest in art at an early age. In his youth he was, in his own words, a “rainy-day doodler,” but by the

time he was in high school, he was selling his first artwork. Even before that, his home of Owen County had already found an important place in his heart. “I knew every tree by the time I was in the second grade,” Ken says. In the summer of 1975, he was preparing to study commercial art at Ivy Tech in Columbus, hoping to turn his passion into a true career. A diving accident in Minnesota that summer put those plans on hold. Ken was left with a broken neck, and in the immediate aftermath was totally paralyzed. His spine was permanently damaged, but he started physical therapy to regain what movement he could. Drawing was an early focus. “While I was in the hospital, I had an occupational therapist who would actually tape a brush to my hand and get me to doodle,” Ken says. Ken drew on newsprint in the hospital to practice. Unknown to him,

his mother held on to the drawings. A few years ago, his sister returned them to him. Today, Ken has control of his arms and shoulders, but has limited feeling and dexterity in his fingers. Lightly gripping the brush is the most his hands can do. He’s developed his own method of painting, which relies on the movement of his upper arm and allows him a remarkable level of control and detail, a trademark of his work. His work is sought by clients looking for art that captures the feel of the region. “My stuff looks like the grandparents’ farm they used to visit, or when they used to go to IU and come over to the parks. My stuff looks like real, traditional, true Southern Indiana,” he says. “I’m just like one of those Hoosier Group guys, just came along a hundred years later,” Ken says. “I just love Southern Indiana. This is where my heart is.”

/Courtesy of Ken Bucklew

WHERE TO SEE KEN’S WORK

Ken Bucklew Studio & Gallery, Brown County Art Gallery

FAVORITE PLACE TO PAINT Owen County

39 /Courtesy of Brown County Art Gallery

/Courtesy of Brown County Art Gallery

SUMMER/ FALL 2016

Chris Newlund

66 • Columbus • Oil

/Courtesy of Brown County Art Gallery

WHERE TO SEE CHRIS’ WORK

Brown County Art Gallery, Brown County Art Guild, Gallery II in Indianapolis

/Photo by Michael Williams

FAVORITE PLACE TO PAINT

As a child, Chris Newlund was a nomad.

Brown County

40 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

/Courtesy of Brown County Art Gallery

Her father worked in the military, and the family lived in Japan, Germany and Korea. On vacations, they visited art museums in Amsterdam, Paris, London and Rome. The impressionist paintings she saw there were her favorites. “I was a creative child. I’ve always liked the lively, visible, broken brushstrokes of the French impressionists,” Chris says. She later married and started a family. They lived in Chicago, where Chris worked as a photographer and had her own studio. After her children grew, she and her husband moved to Southern Indiana in 2002. Once there, Chris quit photography and began painting with oil. As a member of

the Indiana Plein Air Painters Association, she has won awards for her work in statewide shows, including Indiana Heritage Arts and the Hoosier Salon. Her artwork can also be found in corporate and private collections throughout Indiana and the country as well as in Brown County and Indianapolis galleries. Looking back on her earlier works, Chris sees her progression as an artist. “Every time you put a brushstroke down, you have decisions to make, like warm or cool colors, hard or soft edge, intensity or grayness and lightness or darkness,” Chris says. “You have to make those decisions carefully. Before I learned from workshops, I used to slap paint around.” Chris has an indoor studio at home but usually paints outside, depending on the season. Her favorite areas include Brown

County, New Harmony, West Baden, French Lick and Madison. While outdoors, she paints rapidly in anticipation of the change in lighting. “It’s wonderful if you can actually get out to paint in the winter, because the sun is so low in the sky and you have a lot of long shadows,” Chris says. “Early morning is when the light is just right. The trees bring out the mists and the hollows. The land here also holds the moisture and gives some really nice atmospheric effects when the sun comes up.” Chris considers herself a country person. She loves living close to the woods because the trees, wildflowers and hills surround her everywhere she goes. “I always look for beauty when I’m painting, especially out in nature,” Chris says. “I can’t help it.”

41 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

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How one woman transformed housing for the poor in Indiana. By Sara Miller

Before we feature any story, we make sure to dig, question, examine, and explore it. So when you tune in, you get the perspective you need to make sense of what’s happening in south central Indiana and across the state.

42 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

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hotos of Evansville’s worst tenements hang from a clothesline along a corridor of the Indiana Statehouse. Image after image features buildings with broken windows and sagging balconies and roofs. In one, a young girl sits cramped between a bed, stove and wash bin in the single room she shares with her family. Her face is dirty. A caption asks, “What Ideals Can The Children Who Live Here Have?” Another says, “Death Keeps Watch Over This House.” The photographs greet more than a hundred white men as they make their way into the capitol from the cold winter air. It is January 21, 1909, and the Indiana General Assembly has gathered for a joint session. Albion Fellows Bacon, a well-to-do mother of four from Evansville, makes her way to the front of the room. A woman of simple beauty with sleek brown hair worn pinned up and back, she is about to bring Indiana’s crumbling, diseaseridden tenements to the forefront of the state’s agenda. Fear of saying the wrong thing fills her with dread. But she faces the hall filled with successful businessmen and politicians and begins.

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he tells the General Assembly about dirty floors in tiny rooms crammed with too many people. About the flakes of soot that fall like black snow from ceilings. Sometimes six families fight over one water well, she says, and there’s nowhere to pour dirty bath water but the streets. Slime from the alleys runs right up to doorsteps. These tenements, she says, produce disease and crime. These houses are where tuberculosis and thievery are born. In the days following her address, Albion corners legislators, explaining details and showing pictures of decrepit buildings. When the men are too busy to see her, Albion talks to their wives. “We see the poor as a mass of shadow, painted in one flat grey wash, at the remote edges of our sunshine,” she wrote. “Several generations of slum environment will produce a slum heredity.” As the bill makes its way through the Legislature, opposition rises from lawmakers who own tenements or know men who do. One member wants to put tenements above stores he plans to build. Another fights the bill because his wife wants to build an entire lot of cheap apartments with dim and poorly ventilated rooms. “Even though I expected the opposition of selfish interest, I was surprised to see the unabashed way in which money, ‘vested rights,’ were weighed against human life, health, safety and happiness,” Albion wrote. When she describes housing conditions to three-time presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan, the “Great Commoner,” he warns the assembly that “growing sentiment will find some way of filling this hall with people who will respond to this demand of a higher intelligence and of an awakened conscience.” Still, legislators chip away at the bill so it regulates only tenements, lodging and apartment houses in Indianapolis and Evansville. The amended bill passes and becomes law on March 3, 1909. “LAW FRAMED BY MRS. BACON NOW ON BOOK,” reads the Evansville Press headline the next day. “Better half than none,” Albion says. She knows there is still work to do. The passage of the 1909 housing bill was the first of many victories that would change how poor families lived in Indiana. The bill affected only the state’s two largest cities. But Albion Fellows Bacon, who had never lived anything but a comfortable life, would go on to spend nearly another decade fighting for clean and safe homes for all Hoosiers. Thanks in part to an era of Progressive reform and an army of women who longed for careers outside the

Albion thrived before being confined in domesticity. /Photo courtesy of Willard Library

home, what began as one woman’s journey to make a place for herself in society culminated in groundbreaking statewide housing laws.

orn in Evansville on October 20, 1865, Albion Fellows moved with her family to rural McCutchanville soon after. As a schoolgirl, she wrote of an idyllic childhood with cousins for playmates and open fields for exploring. The rural town north of Evansville had dirt roads and no real stores. The post office was located in a private home where the mail was delivered weekly. “It was simply a scattered settlement having two foci, the church and the school house,” she wrote. “Its laws were the Ten Commandments, the Golden Rule, and the customs of the fathers.” Albion was a pious girl whose family attended the town’s Methodist church

“whenever the doors were open.” Her mother, Mary, had spent her childhood in McCutchanville and wanted her own children to have the same freedom. As Albion grew older, she noticed her mother “spent her life in a passion of self-sacrifice, ministering to all who were in trouble.” Her mother’s work filled Albion with a sense of responsibility and the notion that she had to “amount to something.” Books were a fixture in her home, and she grew up reading Aesop’s fables and Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. She and her sister Annie swept the floors and hung the wash to the tune of long poems they recited to one another. They ran in the fields near her house and built pretend houses under the apple trees with bark and stones and mossy roofs. “I had never heard of town planning, but took delight in arranging quaint villages,” she wrote. The freedom she felt made her transi-

tion to Evansville in 1881 a difficult one. “I have kept that vision of those wind-swept, sun-crowded hills, and the feeling of those great free spaces,” she wrote. “It is this that make our cities choke me.” Still, she thrived in school and graduated as salutatorian from Evansville High School in only two years. She took a job as a private secretary for her uncle, a judge. The position taught her how to navigate the professional world. “It was the making of me. It gave me a balance, a discipline, a schooling, I could have had nowhere else.” At 23, she married Hilary Bacon, a local merchant nearly 14 years her senior, at Trinity Methodist, the church her father had helped build. They settled into a life of comfortable domesticity, welcoming their first two children, Margaret and Albion Mary, in 1889 and 1892. Over the years, however, Albion became disenchanted with her daily routine. Robert G. Barrows, a professor of history at IUPUI who wrote Albion Fellows Bacon: Indiana’s Municipal Houskeeper, speculates that her life at home lacked the excitement of the professional world she’d grown to enjoy. She was educated, artistic and capable. “There were these abilities there that weren’t being used,” he says. Bacon may have suffered from what was then called “nervous prostration” but might be diagnosed as depression today. It manifested itself in many women, but especially those who were educated. Often these women turned to a Grand Tour of Europe, art, poetry or social work to escape the doldrums of domestic life. Otherwise, Barrows says, “there wasn’t

Sinks and toilets were a rarity. In some rooms, workers for the night shift took over straw-filled beds vacated by the day shift. Disease flourished. really a role, especially for someone who is middle class.” After the birth of Albion’s second child, she spent months in bed, windows drawn, overcome with fatigue. Though there’s no clear evidence of what brought her out of the illness, it came shortly before her first dance with reform work.

lbion’s health improved when her family moved into a new house and she co-authored a book of poems and literature with her sister, Annie. As so many women of the age did, she joined a number of associations and social welfare groups, like the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society and the Ladies and Pastors Union. She began to fill her days with meetings and issues where she felt she

could make a difference. In this way, she began a reform career, where, as Barrows put it, the income was intellectual rather than material. Her first interest in housing for the poor came, ironically, out of concern for her own children. She realized they attended school with kids who lived in the tenements where disease festered. Once, as she walked through town with her children, they passed a shabby, run-down building. One of her daughters called out to a black-haired girl in the window. “Hi, Sadie.” “Who on earth is that child, and how did you come to know her?” Albion asked. “Why, she’s one of the girls in my class. Isn’t she pretty?” When her daughter asked to play with the girl, Albion refused. Later, she wrote, “It was sickening to think of my little girl in such an environment, even for a moment.” But the idea that her daughter knew someone who lived in the ramshackled buildings stayed with her. When two of her children contracted scarlet fever, she joined the sanitation committee for the Civic Improvement Association. She visited one of the largest tenements in the city, Old St. Mary’s, a former Marine hospital that sheltered dozens of families – each in a single room. “I began to notice how the threads of the social problems, the civic problems and the business problems of a city are all tangled up with the housing problem, and to realise that housing reform is

45 Albion used photos to illustrate poverty in Indiana’s slums. Entire families often lived in one cramped room. The bottom-right photo had the caption, “What ideals can the children have who live here?” /Photos courtesy of Robert Barrows and Willard Library

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Industrialist A.C. Rosencranz built a new apartment block in 1909. The Albion Apartments still stand in Evansville today. /Photo courtesy of Willard Library

fundamental,” she wrote. Barrows says Albion wanted to bring the joys she knew as a child to the children of the tenements. “Not one line or spot of beauty was there in all that mass of hopeless ugliness,” she wrote. “I had never dreamed that people lived like that in our city.”

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n the 19th century, immigrants flooded into America’s cities. New York City saw its population double every decade. Living space for often impoverished immigrants was in high demand, and tenement housing was the response. In Evansville, tenement buildings with names like Coal Mine Hill and Cotton Mill Row sprouted along the Ohio River. Inside miners and millworkers, many German immigrants, lived in wretched conditions. Though the buildings were only two or three stories high, rooms were buried deep inside, and light and fresh air were in short supply. Sinks, toilets and baths were a rarity. In some rooms, workers for the night shift took over the same straw-filled beds vacated by the day shift. Disease, alcoholism, drug addiction and prostitution flourished. Albion didn’t expect the immigrants to move into the graceful neighborhood where she and her family lived, but she knew they deserved better than the slums on the river. Albion tackled the housing issue with “a new gleam in my eye and a new determination in my step.” She became a Friendly Visitor to the poor and encouraged her friends to do the same. She brought flowers to people living in tenement housing and sat and chatted for an hour or two. “We listened and soothed as long as we could stay, emptied the boxes

of the last flower, and came away with aching hearts and a new realisation of the ‘inadequacy of relief.’” She founded the Men’s Circle for the Friendly Visitors, which met in her home. She encouraged men in the community to take steps to heal social ills. Her husband was a member, though that appears to be the extent of his reform efforts. But he supported his wife’s work both financially and emotionally. “He was proud of what she was doing, even if he didn’t particularly understand the work that was involved,” Barrows says. Yet, despite her activism, Albion was not immune to the prejudices of the day. She hired both black and white workers to keep up the house, but the white workers often boarded in the home — a luxury never afforded to the black workers. “She was clearly prejudiced. There’s no question about that,” Barrows says. “Today we would say that at some level, she was a racist.” Though more moderate in her racial views than some of her contemporaries, she once wrote of being appalled during a trip to northern Indiana to discover blacks and whites living in the same apartment building. “Evansville, even today, is a very southern city,” Barrows says. “In that place, at that time, any white was going to grow up with those attitudes.” In 1907, Albion first entered the realm of politics. She proposed that tenement regulations be added to an Evansville building ordinance. When that stalled, she looked for a statewide solution. She attended a national conference and met others working for housing reform. She researched housing laws and corresponded with author and social reformer Jacob Riis. She wrote a draft of a state tenement law and spent the rest of the

summer gathering evidence to support it. She convinced leaders of the Indianapolis Commercial Club to sponsor the bill in the Legislature. That day she first addressed the Legislature in 1909 led not only to the eventual passage of the bill but to her reputation as the “ambassador of the poor.” Still, she hated the way the bill had been stripped down to apply only to the state’s two largest cities. “Did you ever sit by during an operation on one of your own children?” she asked. “After having nursed and doctored and lived with and sat up at nights with a creature like that, for so long, it does seem, in a way, human.” As a result, she couldn’t resist the urge to push again for a statewide tenement law.

lbion came back to Indianapolis in 1911 with a bill that would have expanded housing reform beyond Evansville and Indianapolis. The House passed it, but the bill failed in the Senate, due to an 11th-hour vote change. One of the bill’s most adamant opponents was Sen. Levi Harlan, a Democrat from Marion County. He claimed the measure should be titled “a bill raising the rent of poor people.” An initial vote gave the bill the 26 votes it needed to pass. But Harlan and his supporters cornered the lieutenant governor and kept him from announcing the vote until they could convince a senator to switch sides. “Finally, they got one man to change his vote, and our victory was stolen from us,” Albion wrote. The Indianapolis News headline the next day read, “HARLAN TRIUMPHS OVER FRAIL WOMAN.” Disappointed by the narrow defeat, Albion came away from the General Assembly even more determined to pass a statewide law. “Here lies the body of the Tenement Bill, slain March 1911. Awaiting the resurrection,” she wrote. Over the next two years, Albion spoke at conventions and conferences, with the 1911 failure never far from her mind. She used her memberships in voluntary associations, like the Indiana Housing Association, to advance her cause. Middleand upper-class women proved to be impressive partners in the fight for reform. The Indiana Federation of Clubs backed her efforts. In 1913, the resurrected bill passed, expanding the 1909 bill to every corner of the state. “What was once essentially a one-woman campaign for a statewide housing reform bill had grown into a

well-organized, politically sophisticated coalition,” Barrows wrote. That coalition remained Albion’s focus even as the women’s suffrage movement and other reform campaigns gained momentum. “She didn’t much care for women’s suffrage,” Barrows says. “She wasn’t against it, but it really was secondary to her. If she could have gotten what she wanted without women’s votes, she would have been perfectly happy.” Albion eventually publicly supported the suffrage movement, but only after the 1915 defeat of a bill that would have given the state board of health some power over the conditions in slums — or “death traps,” as she called them. “If all men were like some men, the indirect influence of women would be enough, and we would not need the ballot. But they are not,” Albion wrote.

n 1917, eight years after her first housing victory, Albion again made her way to the Statehouse and reintroduced the death-trap bill that had been shot down two years earlier. The bill gave state health officers the power to order building improvements or evacuation should they deem any tenement house or dwelling

unfit for living. The bill passed the House 90-0 with only minor amendments, a stark contrast from two years earlier. Albion later wrote that the victory could be attributed in part to “an awakening sense everywhere of the need for better housing.” Days later, the Senate also passed the bill unanimously. This would be Albion’s last major political victory, though she was not there to see it. Refusing to miss the birth of her grandson, Albion had returned home to Evansville just before the final vote. She waited anxiously for news. When a reporter called to tell her the bill has passed, she was overcome with happiness and relief. After years of campaigning, Albion and her supporters had convinced the Legislature to give housing reform laws some teeth. Now the children of St. Mary’s, of Cotton Mill Row and of tenements across the state might no longer be caught up in a cycle of poverty, crime and disease. They, like her own children, had a chance for a better life.

fter her 1917 victory, Albion remained active in reform work, including city planning in Evans-

ville. Most of her efforts — much like her housing work — centered around children. She was a member of the Children’s Welfare Committee during World War I, a group that tried to keep children in school and out of factories during the labor shortage caused by the war. Her work took its toll on her health, however, and Albion battled bouts of exhaustion. She reduced her commitments dramatically in the 1920s, though she continued to do some form of civic work until her death in 1933. “I do not grudge a moment I have given it, nor loss of flesh and strength,” she wrote. “But that’s it – it has taken something out of me I can never hope to build up again.” Sarah Lally contributed to this story. Editor’s note: Sources include Albion Fellows Bacon: Indiana’s Municipal Housekeeper by Robert G. Barrows, Beauty for Ashes by Albion Fellows Bacon, Indianapolis and Evansville newspapers, “Women, the Legislature and the Homes of Indiana” by Albion Fellows Bacon, the University of Evansville, the University of Southern Indiana and the Willard Library. Special thanks to Jon Carl of F.J. Reitz High School for pointing us in the right direction.

A celebration of Southern Indiana. For inquiries about advertising in future editions of 812 magazine, contact IU Student Media at 812-855-0763 or email advertise@idsnews.com.

47 Catch the next issue in stands January 2017.

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Where the path may lead

A Muslim family in Columbus fosters understanding.

By Ellen Glover and Allison Chaplin

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he sun has set and Wan Baba and her youngest daughter, Teehah, are still at the Islamic Center on Chestnut Street. The small basement is dimly lit, with little windows peeking out to the parking lot. Cardboard boxes filled with snacks are scattered about, and just below the loudspeaker in the ceiling is a whiteboard with phrases written in Arabic. Wan offers us coffee and hands us each a pack of Cheez-It Baked Crackers and a chocolate chip granola bar. She scurries around the cluttered kitchenette and apologizes when some dirty dishes crash into the sink. Teehah, who turned 9 in May, finds a dinosaur puzzle in a cabinet in the back of the room, sits down at one of the long plastic tables and asks if we’ll help her put

it together. Her name is short for the first chapter in the Quran called Surah Al-Fatiha (the opener). She looks up at her mother at the Keurig. “Are you going to have one?” Teehah asks. “I’ve had enough coffee for today,” Wan laughs. “Am I right?” “You’ve had, like, 10 every day!” Teehah says. Suddenly, a man’s voice comes over the loudspeaker, singing in Arabic. Wan ditches the idea of coffee and begins to collect her things. “Excuse me,” she says when she hears the call to prayer. “I’m just going to go pray for a few minutes.” She grabs her daughter’s hand and Teehah trails behind her mother, following her upstairs in a pink polka-dot hijab.

Clockwise from top: Wan and Teehah watch Ihsan play lacrosse. Teehah sits in the Islamic center on Chestnut Street after Sunday lessons. Zulkifly smiles at Ilyaas clutching a bear. /Photos by Michael Williams, Ellen Glover and Allison Chaplin

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an and Teehah are part of the seven-member Zulkifly family, who came to Columbus in 2012. They, along with roughly 150 other Muslims, are members of the Islamic Society of Columbus, housed in a small brick building just north of downtown. Today, more than three million Muslims live in the United States. Bartholomew County’s Muslim population, estimated at just over 300, may seem small at first glance. But that figure puts the county in the top 6 percent of all U.S. counties, according to the Association of Religion Data Archives. The growth of the Islamic community here is directly related to Cummins Inc., a Fortune 500 engineering company that hires employees from all over the world. Columbus Mayor Jim Lienhoop says the city’s diversity is an advantage and broadens everyone’s thinking. “What you realize quickly is that we’ve got far more in common than we do differences. Diversity makes us a better city.” Wan, her husband, Zulkifly Yusuf, and their five children have found that kind of welcome here. But they’ve also faced suspicion and resentment, especially in the wake of terrorist bombings in Europe and the highly charged political debate this election season. For them, the Islamic center is a refuge, a place to pray, play, learn and be with friends. “It’s really like home for some of us,” Wan says.

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t their nearby brick ranch house, Wan and Zulkifly, both 44, are preparing a Malaysian dinner with noodles, vegetables and chicken. The kids sit in the living room, watching the Disney Channel. Books and family photos line the walls. Two of their 18-yearold son Iman’s paintings are displayed at the front of the room. One is abstract, and the other is his rendition of the green light at the end of the dock in The Great Gatsby. Teehah is first to remove her hijab. Without it, her long dark hair falls past her shoulders. Her older sister Farah soon follows suit, but Wan leaves hers on as she heads straight to the kitchen to cook. Farah, which means happiness, is in the eighth grade at Northside Middle School. She’s nervous about transitioning to high school because she doesn’t want to get lost during passing periods. She plays the clarinet and aspires to be a pediatrician. “I kind of want to go to Mars,” Teehah chimes in. Farah has to wear her hijab anytime she is out in public because she is a teenager. Teehah decided to start wearing hers

Iman started the creative writing club when a girl he had a crush on didn’t want to start it on her own. But he enjoys it. “I’m a poet kind of guy.” in school on her first day of third grade, and she also wears it at the Islamic center. She wants to start wearing it full time when she begins fourth grade. When Zulkifly visits Malaysia each year, he buys Wan hijabs, which mysteriously go missing now that both girls are wearing them, too. “I like the ones that wrap around because they’re prettier,” Teehah explains. “But the ones you slip on are so much easier.” Farah chose to cover her hair at an earlier age. She was 6 when she started begging her mother for more hijabs. Her school in the U.K. had more Muslim students, and she didn’t want to feel like the odd one out. Now, the situation has reversed, and she stands out because of her hijab. She says most of the kids who pick on her just ask “unintelligent” questions about her religion. “I’ve been asked if I have ears, if I’m bald or if I shower with my hijab on,” Farah says. None of her close friends in Columbus are Muslim, but it’s all the same to her. “Friends are friends,” she says bluntly. Next to Farah on the couch is Ihsan, 16, which means compassion. He is cradling his 2-year-old brother, Ilyaas, on his chest. At the Zulkifly house, Ilyaas, named for a religious prophet, is the star of the show. Everyone takes turns holding him, feeding him cookies and giving him high fives as he toddles around the room. Although Ihsan has never had a pet, he thinks he might want to work with animals someday. But according to his mother, he remarks resentfully, he’s too irresponsible for a pet cat. Ihsan just began his second season on his school’s lacrosse team. He has braces and a wider stature than his older brother, who has a runner’s build.

THE 5 PILLARS OF ISLAM “Islam is defining the relationship between you and God,” says Nassim Khaled of the Islamic Society of Columbus. Islam has five fundamental principles, or “pillars,” outlined in the Quran: 1. The Testimony of Faith: One must testify there is only one God, Allah, and his messenger and servant is Muhammad. 2. Prayer: It is important to “establish prayer” at least five times a day to keep a connection with God strong. “We say ‘establish’ because it’s like a building,” Khaled says. “It’s not something you do as a second thought. It’s really a big, major thing.” 3. Giving (Zakat): If you are fortunate enough to have excess wealth, you should give a portion of it — 2.5% according to Khaled — to charity. 4. Fasting for Ramadan: Ramadan is a holiday that occurs once every lunar year and lasts 30 days. During this time, as a form of spiritual self-purification, Muslims are expected to avoid food or beverages before sundown. 5. The Pilgrimage to Mecca: Once in their lifetimes, Muslims can take a journey to their holy place, Mecca, in Saudi Arabia. “The journey is only for those who are physically and economically capable of doing so,” Khaled says. TO READ THE SIX PILLARS OF FAITH, VISIT 812MAGAZINE.COM

No one really moves when Wan announces that dinner is ready. “If they’re hungry they’ll come, if not, more for us,” Wan says as she sets down our plates.

he Zulkifly family’s story starts in Cambodia, where Zulkifly Yusuf was born and lived until he was 7. His family fled Pol Pot’s regime and moved to Malaysia, where Wan was born and lived with her eight siblings. “My father stressed very, very much the importance of education,” Wan says. When she was 15, Wan’s father died. With all her siblings away at school, Wan lived alone with her mother. Her father’s influence drove her to excel in secondary

Family photos line the walls in the Zulkifly home. This one was taken in front of the White House while they were vacationing in Washington, D.C. /Photo by Allison Chaplin

school and pass a placement test that landed her at a better school, where Zulkifly was a student. The two met as classmates when they were 16. Wan’s mother died when Wan was 17, and she and Zulkifly attended different universities. But mutual friends helped them keep in touch. “He would send me a birthday and Eid card every year,” Wan recalls. Dating wasn’t really an option, since it is against Islam for a man and woman to be alone together before marriage. On top of that, per Cambodian customs, Zulkifly’s parents already had promised him to marry a family friend’s daughter, a girl he had never met. It took a lot of convincing for both families, “but eventually things worked out,” Wan says. “Here we are 20 years later.” In a Muslim marriage, the suitor is expected to ask permission from a woman’s father in order to marry her. Since both of Wan’s parents had passed away, the responsibility to give Wal, or permission to marry, fell to Wan’s oldest brother Abdullah Sharin. “The big brother was that,” Zulkifly says as Wan laughs. “Big and scary with big hands.” After they were married, they kept with the Islamic tradition that Wan’s last name – Baba – would stay the same, and

their children would take on Zulkifly’s first name as their last. The couple had their first three children – sons Iman and Ihsan and daughter Nurfarah, Farah for short – while living in Malaysia. “We thought we were done,” Wan remembers. A year later, the family relocated to Durham, England, where Wan got her Ph.D. in philosophy and applied linguistics from the University of Leicester. In 2007, Teehah was born. “Then we really thought we were done,” Wan says. Five years later, Zulkifly got a job as a reliability leader at Cummins, so they moved again, this time to Columbus, and got their green cards. Wan started teaching English as a second language at Indiana University-Purdue University Columbus. Another two years passed and the family greeted their seventh and final member, Ilyaas, who was born in Columbus. Moving to a new country meant large and small changes for everybody, but they adjusted quickly. Culture shock really hit them when, driving on the opposite side of the road, they saw fast food restaurants on nearly every corner. They were surprised to see that police officers and security guards carried weapons. For Farah, the differences between apples in England and in the States stuck with her. “The apples are so huge!” she exclaims. “In England,

Wan was driving down the road when a man drove up next to her and glared at her. Wan noticed the rifle that lay on his dashboard. “He knew I saw the gun. I was terrified.” I could finish an apple in, like, four bites. Here it takes a whole hour.”

he Zulkiflys’ journey is one of many paths to Columbus’ Islamic Society. The center’s demographics are more diverse than most mosques because Muslims here come from more than 30

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countries, says spokesperson Hanna Omar. “We have people here who are Hoosiers and have eight different generations that have been in Indiana,” Omar explains. “We have people from various African countries and European countries. We have Mexicans, Chinese, Malaysians and Sri Lankans, so there is lots of diversity.” The group started out in 2001 as 40 or 50 Muslims praying in an apartment. They were a slowly growing minority that needed a place to call their own. So, they rented space in the United Way of Bartholomew County building and watched their community flourish. But they were forced to move again when the building burned in December 2009. They bought the current building, previously a Reformed Presbyterian Church, and transformed it into the first house of Allah in Southern Indiana. Now, seven years later and almost double in size, the group uses the threestory space for just about everything. The basement has a kitchenette and seating area where members gather and feast during Ramadan and other Eids, or Muslim holidays. Every Sunday, children meet in the four classrooms to learn Arabic and study Islamic teachings. And anyone may come to the partitioned space on the main level for the five daily prayers.

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an and her close friend Sahar Almasri are on their knees behind the partition in the prayer room, where women gather on the red-and-gold carpet. Sahar wears light makeup and a gold necklace with a symbol encrusted with diamonds that means “Praise to God” in Arabic. It’s time for Jummah, a weekly prayer held on Fridays, and although only men are required to attend, Wan and Sahar have come, too. A man at the front of the room leads the prayer, while others arrive late. Before they enter, they must wash themselves in a process called Wudu, and the sound of splashing water comes from the nearest bathroom. Everyone praying together creates a low humming noise. For Muslims, Islam is about defining their relationship with Allah and better understanding their role as his creation. To achieve this goal, Muslims study the Quran and are called to prayer five times a day. Muslims believe the Quran was sent to them directly from Allah, so they can use it as a guide to navigate life. Allah also sent the Prophet Muhammad to teach the practices in the holy book. A Muslim’s faith, or Iman, is determined by the the six pillars of faith, which

Farah demonstrates “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” for her brother Ilyaas and a friend in the prayer room at the Islamic center. /Photo by Allison Chaplin

are essential beliefs. There are fundamental and nonfundamental practices as well. The five pillars of Islam listed in the Quran are, perhaps, the most fundamental religious principles. One key practice is modesty. When they reach puberty, women are expected to cover up around those not in the immediate family, and men must be clothed from the navel down. How Muslims, particularly women, decide to cover up is usually influenced by the country they are from.

“People tend to confuse culture and religion.” For example, Wan is from Malaysia and wears a headscarf, but a woman from Pakistan may not be expected to cover her hair because that is considred a nonfundamental way to show modesty. “People tend to confuse culture and religion,” Wan says. For instance, Islam forbids forcing a woman into marriage or committing murder. Yet, in some cultures, these are accepted practices. Wan says associating forced marriage and honor killings with Islam is a common misperception. The Quran also mandates that the husband’s money is for the family, and any money a wife makes is her own. Household duties should be shared between the man and woman. “I work, my money is mine. He works, his money is mine,” Wan says. “He provides for everyone.”

Eating halal food is another fundamental practice. Meat, other than pork, is halal if it is slaughtered in the most humane way possible, with a swift cut to the throat that inflicts the least amount of pain. Pork is haram, which means forbidden. Alcohol, as a beverage or ingredient, is haram, too. Wan shops at Restaurant Depot in Indianapolis. Sometimes, the family eats out at the two halal establishments in Columbus, Apna Kitchen and Mumbai Grill. Together, these principles and practices form the core of the Islamic faith.

n a warm Sunday at the Islamic center, Wan decides to teach her first religion class of the day outside. She and her students sit in a circle and take turns reading from the Quran. Later, she steps in for an Arabic teacher who is running late. It’s Teehah’s class, and Wan doesn’t speak Arabic, so she’s flustered. “Everybody take out your Arabic book!” Wan orders. “I know everyone has it, so no more excuses.” Until the teacher arrives, Wan points to pages that the children have already studied and has them review the vocabulary. Meanwhile, Iman is in an upstairs classroom where kindergarten students are memorizing short Arabic verses through song. He usually leads the class, but, today, a new teacher is giving lessons. A breeze blows in through the open window and chimes from a nearby house accompany their singing voices. The walls are plastered with coloring-book pages of the Prophet Muhammad’s name in Arabic and

Kaaba, the center of Islam’s most sacred mosque in Mecca. Iman has gelled hair and is wearing red sneakers and a Nike t-shirt that says, “Man Up or Shut Up.” He’s a senior at Columbus North High School and has run cross country since his sophomore year. Iman also is president of the National Honor Society and helped found a creative writing club at school. He says he started the club when a girl he had a crush on didn’t want to start it on her own. But he found he enjoys writing. “I’m a poet kind of guy,” he says. Iman graduates in May and is set on going to Purdue University and becoming a dentist. Sundays at the center end with a prayer that starts just before 2 p.m. Afterward, some of the girls linger in the room, comparing cartwheels and roundoffs. Other children throw their shoes back on and head outside for races or football. The parents chat, sometimes breaking conversation to call out a child’s name or round up the family. Wan waits patiently by the family’s silver Nissan minivan with Zulkifly in the driver’s seat. Iman is finishing up a game of football, and his siblings are still hanging out with friends. Eventually, they all make it to the van and head home. But life isn’t always this quiet. Muslim families like the Zulkiflys sometimes do encounter bullying and harassment. One day at the supermarket parking lot, Wan saw a man write down her license plate number. Another time, she was driving down the road when a man drove up next to her car and glared at her. Wan noticed the rifle on his dashboard. “I looked back at him, and he knew I saw the gun,” Wan says. “I was terrified.” With her infant son Ilyaas and Teehah in the car, Wan drove away and didn’t report what happened to the police. However, the Zulkiflys have been surprised by the acceptance they’ve found here, too. In August 2014, three local churches were vandalized with graffiti that read “Infidels!” and “Qur’an 3:151.” That passage says terror will be “cast into the hearts” of those who don’t follow Allah. Wan’s friend Sahar, who’s involved in the society’s community outreach, says she worried when news of the incident spread. But she was touched by the response of church leaders, including the Rev. Clem Davis, a longtime pastor at St. Bartholomew Catholic Church. Davis says no one he talked to imagined that anyone at the Islamic Society had been responsible. “Some voiced that anyone with Google can look up troublesome texts, in the Bible or the Quran,” he says.

Wan remembers watching TV coverage of September 11, 2001, and saying, “Please don’t be a Muslim. Please don’t be a Muslim.” After the incident, the church sponsored a series of eight discussions regarding terrorism, its coverage and the Islamic faith. “I, personally, had never studied Islam nor even looked at the Quran. That was eye opening,” Davis says. “Connecting with them showed us the human side of everyone’s life. That made for a warmth and an affection that grew up between us.”

s we finish our dinner with the Zulkiflys, the discussion turns serious. Wan and Zulkifly sit next to each other, playing off each other’s remarks. In media coverage of bombings and beheadings by ISIS and other extremist groups, Americans see images of Muslims who dedicate their lives to the destruction of the West. Yet, the Zulkiflys say groups like the Taliban and ISIS twist the words of the Quran to justify violence. “They bomb everything. The mosques, the synagogues, the churches . . . They bomb everything,” Wan says. “Whereas in the Quran there is a chapter that says when you are even at war you cannot destroy houses and places of worship. They are doing it right now, and they are claiming to represent Islam. How can you represent when you are doing the opposite of what Islam is telling you?” “You can’t even cut the trees during war,” Zulkifly adds. They are frustrated and saddened when political candidates address Islam as if it were a cancer to be eliminated. Wan won’t forget the coverage of September 11, 2001. “I remember watching TV and praying, ‘Please don’t be a Muslim, please don’t be a Muslim’,” she says, fighting back tears. She knew if a Muslim were responsible for the terrorist attacks on the Twin Tow-

ers, her faith would be wrongfully judged. “A big chunk of what people choose to beleive is what they hear,” Zulkifly says. Wan and Zulkifly insist that knowledge is vital to ending misperceptions about Islam. So they make sure their children, both the girls and boys, are actively pursuing an education. They point out that extremist groups, like ISIS, would deprive their daughters of the chance to learn. “I think education is key to freedom,” she says. “If you want to be oppressive, you leave the man ignorant.” It’s important to Wan and Zulkifly that their children understand Islam and make a positive impact on their religion’s image. “ISIS scares me as much as it scares you,” Wan says. “I know that if they were to catch me, I would be . . .” She doesn’t finish her sentence, but makes a cutting gesture across her throat.

n the last Saturday we spend with the Zulkifly family, we meet them at Ihsan’s lacrosse game. The wind is cold, but Wan and Teehah brave the weather to cheer him on. “Come on, Ihsan, go!” Wan shouts. She points Ihsan out to us among the players dressed in blue-and-white jerseys. She yells again, clapping, when Ihsan makes an assist and his team scores. They’re up 7-0. Ilyaas is asleep, so Zulkifly stays with him in the van. Farah is at a band competition, and Iman is working a shift at Subway. Wan stands on the sidelines and Teehah sits, wrapping her stuffed dog in a blanket she brought. A little boy asks if he can play, joining her on the grass. We leave before the game is over, following Wan and Teehah off the field. Later, Wan reveals to us that she’s not sure how much longer the family will stay in Columbus. They would like to stay until Ihsan graduates high school, but Wan admits she feels restless. Still, moving back to Malaysia or another Muslim country would feel like a step backward. “I think I have embraced diversity when I live in a non-Muslim country,” Wan says. “By moving to other countries, I learn more about Islam and more about tolerance.” Living in Columbus has changed who she is, she says. Growing up in a Muslim country made Wan biased toward Muslims, but after living in a new country, she has found that there is more than one way to live. She and Zulkifly hope their children will be able to live in any society as Muslims, no matter where their paths may lead.

53 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

THE 812 LIST

8 moments that shaped our region In honor of our state’s bicentennial, historians helped us identify key historic events. By Ellen Glover

INDIANA BECOMES A STATE On December 11, 1816, Indiana became America’s 19th state. “It could be argued that Indiana’s first important moment was when humans settled there thousands of years ago,” says James Madison, an Indiana University history professor and author of Hoosiers: A New History of Indiana. “But when the state was founded in 1816, that really laid the foundation for everything else that would follow.”

AN AMENDMENT IS PASSED AND REPEALED Indiana’s population ballooned from 64,000 in 1816 to 988,000 in 1850. Consequently, our constitution was amended in 1851. Perhaps the most infamous modification was Article 13, which stated that “no negro or mulatto” could settle in the state. “This made Indiana a homogeneous state of mainly white Protestants at the time,” says Chandler Lighty, the Indiana Historical Bureau director. Lawmakers repealed Article 13 in 1881.

54 SUMMER/ FALL 2016

EDUCATION GETS A BOOST “Indiana’s constitution promised education as soon as possible,” Lighty says. But the 1840 census showed that one in seven adult Hoosiers were illiterate. All this changed when Caleb Mills, a New England Presbyterian missionary, wrote letters to the Legislature encouraging reform. Mills’ push led to the 1852 Free School Law, requiring each county to provide at least three months of free education.

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HOOSIERS ANSWER THE CALL TO BATTLE When Confederate forces fired on Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861, more than 197,000 Hoosiers joined the Union and another 100,000 participated in the militia, according to the Indiana Historical Society. “The Civil War was important to Indiana’s history,” Madison says. “They chose to fight for the Union, and they fought very effectively.”

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OUR FIRST STATE PARK OPENS Richard Lieber led the drive to establish McCormick’s Creek State Park in Owen County in 1916. The park celebrates its 100th birthday in July. “Now there are parks all over the state,” Lighty says. “McCormick’s really shows the power of nature.”

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AN ERA OF ART AND LITERATURE BEGINS In the late 1800s, the state experienced a “golden age” of literature, including Southern Indiana writers like Theodore Dreiser, Lew Wallace and Kin Hubbard, above. This was also a time of artistic growth as painters like T.C. Steele and J. Ottis Adams formed the Hoosier Group in Brown County.

GENTLEMEN START THEIR ENGINES The Indianapolis Motor Speedway hosted its first Indianapolis 500 race in 1911. “This was the genesis of racing in Indiana,” Lighty says. Even though the 500 is run in Speedway, the race spawned smaller tracks and generations of drivers in Southern Indiana.

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THE GREAT DEPRESSION ARRIVES Indiana was hit hard by the Great Depression in 1929. But Paul McNutt of Franklin, elected governor in 1932, helped turn things around. Under his leaderhship, Indiana established income taxes and began to participate in Social Security and other welfare programs. “The programs were very controversial,” Madison says. “There were a lot of people who thought that wasn’t the government’s business.” 1 - Indiana’s first capital and 7 McCormick’s Creek /812 file photos. 5 Kin Hubbard and 8 - Paul McNutt /Photos courtesy of the Indiana Historical Society. 6 - 1934 winners /Photo courtesy of Bass Photo Collection, Indiana Historical Society

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FALL 812-855-7823 • iucu.org

2016

16/ 17 SEASON

Hear the countryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s best emerging artists at the IU Jacobs School of Music.

Season includes 5 operas, 3 ballets, and 1 musical! Musical Arts Center Box Office Monday through Friday, 11:30 a.m. - 5:30 p.m.

music.indiana.edu/operaballet 56 SUMMER/ FALL 2016