Two decades ago, while creating an A I D S – p r eve n t i o n campaign for Connecticut’s state health department, I became a “sexpert.” No, I didn’t become an expert on sex itself (at least no more than your average married fellow). Nor did I conduct formal sex research (I leave that to the Kinsey Institute). Instead, I became an expert on how we Americans, Puritan descendents that many of us are, resist communicating about…
If you knew only that Scott Newman is a former prosecutor, you might think his new workouts apt. The man known for courtroom sparring now feints, weaves, jabs and thrusts with a former Golden Gloves boxing champion. But that’s not all we know about the 44-year-old Republican twice elected Marion County prosecutor. For in 2002, Newman also became Indianapolis’ most public Parkinson’s patient. Today, Newman says boxing provides the perfect exercise for the neurologically challenged. “Parkinson’s is a movement disease,”…
I went to the bookstore the other day to buy a condolence card. A friend’s mom had died. There weren’t many choices. Most offered poems or Bible verses that didn’t seem right for me or the recipient. So I chose the simplest card. It featured an abstract image of light breaking through darkness. Inside, it said, “Thinking of you with deepest sympathy.” I was thinking of him. And the families of London bombing victims. And the widows, widowers and children…
Dear Lance: I’ve got an idea. I thought you might noodle it during that 239-kilometer, Stage 17 ride from Pau to Revel. It might keep your mind off those flags people wave in your face. By way of background, you and I have much in common. Like you, I’m a cancer survivor. As in your case, a physician from the Indiana University School of Medicine figured out how to treat mine after others had botched it. Like you, I ride…
It’s 4 a.m. I’m supposed to be writing by now, knitting you a tale about transformation. But the notions have yet to coalesce. So I lie in bed, watching through my bay window as a storm rolls through, igniting the sky with flashes of light. It’s 4:27 a.m. I awaken again and flip on the TV, the sound muted so as not to disturb my son’s slumber in the next room. The channel I was watching last night now shows…
A few weeks ago, my friend John and I treated our three 17-year-olds to a boys’ night out. We started off at Bazbeaux downtown, inhaling guy pizza (read: pepperoni and sausage) and dissecting the big news of the day-Michael Jackson’s acquittal on charges that he shared alcohol, porn and a little night groping with a teen-age boy. Our teen-age boys, news junkies all, then rattled on about kids getting paid to play online video games and the proliferation of “cheats”…
Editor’s note: Bruce Hetrick this month won first place for best bylined commentary in a national competition conducted by the Alliance of Area Business Publications. The winning entry, about Hetrick’s wife, Pamela Klein, was first published in IBJ on March 1, 2004. It is reprinted here. Klein died March 5, 2005. It’s Saturday morning. I’m sitting on the window ledge in my wife, Pam’s, room at Methodist Hospital. Outside, the February sky is as gray as my spirit. While Pam…
A few months ago, I had lunch with Fran Quigley, executive director of the Indiana Civil Liberties Union. We’d never met, but we’d exchanged emails about one another’s newspaper columns. As we ate, we did the getting-to-knowyou dance. We talked about our wives and kids, faith and friends, grief and recovery. After that, work wormed its way into the conversation. We talked about our mutual interest in writing, law, government, politics and our often-frustrating quests to save the planet from…
The crowd gathered early for the IPL 500 Festival Parade. Moms and dads, grandparents and kids, neighbors and friends came by the thousands to hear the oompah-pah of the bands, see Hollywood stars and cheer the 33 drivers competing in the next day’s Indianapolis 500. Walking through the throng, I spied the street preachers. Each had staked out a strategic spot, capitalizing on the closed avenues to stand mid-intersection and deliver The Word. One preacher waved a sign warning happy…
The night of May 23, after the Indianapolis City-County Council passed a watered-down ordinance banning smoking in some workplaces, Council President Steve Talley called for a short break. Proponents and opponents of the anti-smoking bill poured into the hallway outside the council chambers. Among the former, there were handshakes, hugs and high-fives. Among the latter, there was much shaking of heads. Lobbyists and legislators on both sides of the battle talked with reporters, uttering comment on the vote and its…
Years ago, my wife and I registered our sons, Austin and Zach, for the Bank One 500 Festival Rookie Run. In what became an annual tradition, we’d drive the boys downtown early on the appointed Saturday in May, pick up their T-shirts and racing numbers, and wait for their age group to be called. At the appointed hour, Austin and Zach would line up with scores of other kids, run a few blocks up and back Meridian Street, and receive…
Hetrick has the week off. In his absence, this column, an adaptation of one that appeared on April 14, 2003, is being reprinted. The first line of the first song in the musical comedy “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” is “How to Apply for a Job.” That’s also the name of the course I’m proposing to any university that will buy it. I offer this proposal to my friends in academe because many of the candidates they’re…
Spring has exploded in my urban garden. The climbing hydrangeas race up the trellises. The perennials ascend toward azure blue. And the flowering crab has erupted like a Fourth of July firework. It was a hard winter for us. Last fall, two shrubs by the stone bench turned brown and we couldn’t save them. In December, the blue spruce by the back gate shed its needles and died. And my fellow gardener, who planted this place and nurtured it with…
I’d rather not be here today. And I don’t mean just this public hearing. I mean if I weren’t responsible for two sons and 27 employees, I’d rather not be anywhere. Since you began this process, I’ve watched your proceedings on TV. I’ve heard folks question one another’s statistics and call one another names. I’ve heard the Indianapolis Chamber of Commerce, of which I’m a member, say we must “balance” human health and corporate profit. And I’ve had Council members…
One night last week, after dining out with friends, I walked through the cold March mist to my mailbox. I expected more medical bills for failed cancer treatments, another batch of sympathy cards and some catalogs trying to sell my late wife clothing she no longer needs. Instead, after trudging back to the house and sorting through the pile of promotional material, I found the letter from the vulture. The vulture’s first sentence consoled me on the loss of my…
My son, Austin, phoned a few weeks back. He was excited. Well, he was as excited as a 16-yearold can be (read: a little). The cast list had just been posted for the spring musical at his high school. For the second year, Austin had landed a part-not a lead, he said, but for a sophomore, a good part. Rehearsals were to begin immediately. I uttered my fatherly bravos. We said goodbye. And I shared the news with his grandparents,…
Saturday, Feb. 26, was the second-tolast day my boys, Austin and Zach, saw their stepmom alive. They didn’t see much of Pam that day. She and they slept late-Pam because she was ill with cancer, Austin and Zach because they’re teen-agers. Once everyone awoke, Zach had a six-hour photo assignment at the IU Natatorium. Late that afternoon, I took Austin to a movie, while my sister-in-law stayed with Pam. When we all returned home, we watched a video, discussed its…
Editor’s note: Over the past two years, columnist Bruce Hetrick has commented from time to time in this space on his wife Pam Klein’s battle with cancer. She died of complications from that disease March 5 at the age of 49. Here is the tribute to her that he delivered at the March 10 memorial service. Our next-door neighbors in downtown Indianapolis own a second home in Brown County, about an hour south of here. It’s a difficult place to…
“But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,” faltered Scrooge … “Business!” cried the Ghost …”Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business.” Charles Dickens, “A Christmas Carol” Sunday night, about 10, I was watching the movie “Collateral” in the basement. I was trying, sans success, to get my mind off work and my wife Pam’s bout with cancer for a few hours. Pam was one floor…
I’m looking out the window of the hospital room where my wife, Pam, is staying. It’s a beautiful day. Soft white clouds dot the brilliant sky. In the courtyard below, between the hospital and the cancer center, a young woman sits on a bench. She’s pretty, in her sleek leather jacket and tight jeans. Her auburn hair glistens in the sun and brushes her shoulders in the breeze. In one hand, she holds a Palm Pilot. I imagine she’s reading…
