Growing up in Indiana has its rites of passage. Attending your first Indianapolis 500 race; being a die-hard Bears fan (regardless of the Colts’ success); or graduating from a high school class with less than 200 students — it happens on a regular basis. But it seems one task remains unchecked on the list. A question that has puzzled the eldest adult to the youngest tot, from South Bend to Evansville, remains unanswered. What is a Hoosier?
A word that sounds more fit for an owl, possibly crafted by the imagination of Dr. Seuss, has been synonymous with the Midwest state for as long as memory can serve. It’s the invisible mascot for Indiana University and serves as the state’s nickname. It is also the title of one of the greatest sports films of all time. But when challenged to describe what it is, individuals slip into a mental 12-step process. First one becomes silent, perplexed. Next is embarrassment, followed by anger at the ignorance of this topic. Once one faces the truth — there is no definite answer to this simple absurdity — one is able to accept the fact that one may never know. Who or what coined this term that defines an entire body of people, and yet doesn’t define anything at the same time. Before our minds self-implode, let’s really think about it — there has to be a logical explanation.
One legit definition I’ve come across eludes the word’s origin to geographical features. Indiana is known for its farmland: corn, wheat, etc. Thus, the landscape is somewhat hilly. I could attest to this reasoning. Walking across IU’s campus, one encounters what I call invisible hills. One minute you’re walking on a level plain back to Wright Quad. A minute later, gravity is playing a cruel trick on your equilibrium. The weather also supports this theory. Whenever heavy rains shower Indiana, flooding is an almost absolute result. Many Hooiser towns and cities suffer from backed plumbing and causing streets and roads to become makeshift rivers. IU’s own Bloomington looked like Atlantis last summer.
So we are dubbed Hoosiers because of a terrible irrigation system and invisible hills? I beg to differ. There has to be a more symbolic justification. Maybe a heroic tale dealing with the state’s founding, or a funny, old happenstance spread by word of mouth from generation to generation. Or maybe a Hoosier is just an ordinary, Midwestern American. Maybe it isn’t that bad to be undefined. One will be able to write their own story and call it whatever they like. It seemed to work for David Letterman and Larry Bird.