Lovely Locals in Memorable Madison

July 10th, 2021: Madison, Indiana—America’s hometown is a place to slow down to a walk and live your life full measure.

Madison, Indiana, is my favorite place I never expected to find.

The first time I set foot in the state of Indiana, I literally walked into the state. No vehicles, no gasoline, just my little piggies leading the way across the Big Four pedestrian bridge that spans the Ohio River connecting Louisville, Kentucky, to Jeffersonville, Indiana.

Of course, I eventually turned around and walked back to the rental car that waited for me in Louisville, only to drive back into Indiana, where I'd sleep for the night. This big Midwest adventure I mapped out had me zigzagging in and out of Kentucky for days. First, I slept in Paducah, Kentucky, then Edinburgh, Indiana, then Lexington, Kentucky, and on that last day teetering between the two states, I crossed the Indiana-Kentucky border three times.

It was rainy and gray when I woke up for the first time ever in Indiana. And just as that muggy morning was morphing into a partly cloudy afternoon, I was getting on a two-lane road heading for another bridge that would take me back over the Ohio and back into Kentucky. My GPS was telling me to turn left toward the Milton-Madison Bridge, but to my right was a glimmer of a potentially cute Main Street USA type of town. Should I check it out or stick to my schedule? I wondered, with my turn signal already decidedly left.

I decided to keep heading south to Kentucky. To be honest, I was kind of ready to get out of Indiana. I hadn't been there long, but I hadn't fallen for the state the way I have for every other state. I was a little bummed I didn't make it to Nashville, Indiana, the day before—a nauseatingly winding, swiss-cheese road filled with excessive potholes forced me to turn around out of concern for my rented tires. I did make it to Clifty Falls, though, and it was lovely, I explored Columbus in the rain and ate ice cream for breakfast at a parlor from 1900 called Zaharakos—which, so far, was my favorite Indiana experience, but I wasn't hooked on the state. I chalked it up to not having enough time to explore more of what the state had to offer.

Still, there was a tinge of disappointment that Indiana didn't leave me with something I'd just have to come back and experience again. I kept on keeping on and crossed the Ohio, back into Kentucky again, but something was nagging me to make a U-turn. Give Indiana another shot. What was that little town? It might have been cute. Those buildings looked too charming not to stroll past. What if there's something really special right there just a mile back, and you drove right past it?

This is the kind of conversation I have with myself at least once a day on solo road trips. There's always something I pass along the road that inspires the let's-see-every-single-thing explorer in me to pop a U-ey. Sometimes it's a scenic viewpoint or a charming fruit stand; sometimes, it's a historical mile marker or a broken-down spaceship half stuck in the ground. Sometimes I let myself win, and I turn around; sometimes, I reason with myself and keep driving—we've stopped six times in the past six miles—we're never gonna get there in time if we keep stopping like this. I pout a little every time I pass something that intrigued me. Sometimes I become so pouty I force myself to turn around after miles have gone by. I always smile as soon as I permit myself to go back and see what that cool thing might be.

But my head-back-into-Indiana impulse was quick to convince me, and I followed my inner compass back to one of the prettiest rows of landmark brick-and-mortar buildings I ever did see. Some were red brick, some were painted pink, others white and blue or lined with wood. It took all of a quarter-mile drive into Madison, Indiana, to realize that I had made a fortuitous choice coming through this town.

I could tell right away this wasn't just a drive-through but a take your time and walk the streets kind of place. I parked on Main Street, and the sun came out as if on cue. I stepped out of my car and surveyed the land around me and the sky above me. By now, there was clearly more blue than white in the sky. It felt like all the elements were coming together to support my stop in Madison.

I was instantly crazy about that cute little town. It had true Bisbee potential, which is what my Dad and I say about any charming, small town that transports me to a simpler time with beauty, quaintness, and whispers of the stories it holds. No place could ever top Bisbee in my book—it's like that town was made for me—but Madison, Indiana, quickly climbed the charts to a top ten spot on my list of memorable little towns across America.

Madison, Indiana, even has a Mulberry Street, which made me smile thinking of Mulberry Street in Little Italy, NYC. Madison also reminded me of bumper stickers I've seen in Bisbee that say, "Bisbee, Arizona: it's like Mayberry on acid"—a sentiment that always made me feel cozy and colorful inside. Madison wasn't like Mayberry on acid, it was like America the way it was once upon a time in the hopes of my mind. This town was speaking to me, loud and clear—just like Bisbee and others before it did. 

I wandered Main Street with a big grin, snapping photos every few steps. I caught the attention of a smiling couple sitting outside a lovely cafe called The Downtowner. "Glad the sun came out so you could get some nice pictures," the husband said with a smile. It was such a sweet, charming thing to say. As if he and his wife weren't already adorable enough—a woman with gray hair in a low ponytail sat with a puppy planted happily in her lap and a man with gray hair under a black cap wearing blue jeans and a short-sleeve red button-up shirt. They were the picture of middle America—two heartland sweethearts sitting together like they'd been doing for decades every Saturday afternoon. They sat in an unhurried manner, as though they didn't have a worry in the world and no place to be except right where they were.

"I'm so glad too! What a beautiful day and a beautiful town!" as soon as my reply left my lips, I knew that if by some slim chance, they hadn't already identified me as a non-local, they would now. They asked how long I was visiting their little piece of paradise. I told them how I was really just passing through and almost didn't stop, "I didn't even know this town existed until I couldn't resist driving into it, but I can already tell this is a place I'm gonna have to come back to." They were so pleased that I was loving their forever hometown so much—a town that calls itself "America's Hometown."

When the inevitable "Where are you from" question came around, Sam had the cutest, sweetest reaction, "Well, I'll be. Betty, did you hear that? This young woman's come all the way from New York City! My goodness!" Betty and Sam looked up at me with stars in their eyes, and I was grinning through happy tears in mine. They were so lovely, I just wanted to bring them back home with me, except I think they'd be overwhelmed by all the bells and whistles that blare in the "town" I call home—better they stay on the safe, quaint sidewalks of America's hometown.

They asked me what brought me out to Indiana, of all places. I explained how I've been on a mission to explore all 50 states, and this 4,000-mile journey would bring me to 48. I told them how I love small towns and seeing places no one has heard of, and taking pictures of pretty things along the way. Betty and Sam got right to recommending, "…and the Broadway Fountain"—"oh, Sam, she'll love the Broadway Fountain!" "Yep, that's right—you're gonna follow this road, oh about a quarter mile till you hit Broadway, and then you'll hang a right, and you'll be amazed—it's gorgeous—just gorgeous."

Usually, my brain powers down the moment verbal directions are uttered, but these were simple, and I was hanging on every word Sam and Betty said, so I knew just what to do to find that fountain. We talked about the rest of my Midwest itinerary, and Betty and Sam marveled over me like I was Mark Twain in the female flesh coming to town to sing the praises of precious places across the nation.

I didn't want to leave them, but they so thoughtfully encouraged me to get out there and see the rest of their special town, so I did. I found the fountain—which instantly became one of the prettiest I'd ever seen—and I met more nice people. These were tourists. The father saw me snapping pictures up a storm and offered his daughter's picture-taking talents, "She's real good at taking pictures if you want her to take one of you."

We chatted about cute little Madison, Indiana, and where we were from for a while. The dad made me laugh when I told them I was from New York, "You must be from upstate New York 'cause you're real nice." He reminded me of my city's reputation and how I love being one of the many New Yorkers shifting perceptions about it with every act of kindness.  

Looking back on the kindness I encountered in Madison and the photos I snapped of its frame-worthy streets, I noticed that I got Sam and Betty in a photo just seconds before I met them. I love that they're both smiling peaceful smiles and that they just so happen to be sitting under a sign that says, "Great people!" How fitting is that? Lovely locals in memorable Madison.