East 10th Street is a constant blur of activity, the drone of one car's engine hard to distinguish from the next. But just across the street from Stone Belt, a small porch and farmstead, built in 1892, presents an island of tranquility next to the busy road. The white exterior stands in stark contrast to the property's well-cultivated greenness.

The Hinkle-Garton Farmstead, donated to Bloomington Restorations, Inc. (BRI) in December 2004, is the legacy of Daisy Hinkle. But unlike the sleepy exterior of the once self-sufficient farm, Daisy was known for her go-getter attitude and community involvement.

Part of the last generation to grow up on the farm, Daisy earned degrees in composition and music education. And the halls of her house were filled with the sound of students receiving lessons from the talented lady in the front parlor.

Lisa Morrison, of Morrison Marketing and Media, wants to make these sounds familiar once more to the Hinkle-Garton Farmstead. Selecting the property for a series of "house concerts," Morrison hopes to help BRI raise the money it needs to sustain the house, while also helping fortify the Bloomington music scene.

When Colin Schoder-Ehri was asked to speak to students at Bloomington High School North about conscientious objection, his meeting was cancelled not once, but multiple times. Protests by military families prevented him from coming into the school and speaking.

"I decided it was not worth my time to just protest the decision of the school when I could educate kids about conscientious objection in a more neutral forum," said Schoder-Ehri, clerk for the Bloomington Friends Peace and Social Concerns Committee.

So Schoder-Ehri, along with the Bloomington Friends Meeting, Truth in Recruiting, Bloomington Peace Action Coalition and the IU student group Against the Occupation of Iraq will present a forum for youth considering conscientious objection at the Monroe County Public Library on June 12.

As a sophmore in college, Lance Thurner sat in his living room with a friend, staring at the ceiling. Boredom brought their thoughts to a collection of maps on the walls. And what started as a game for the two IU students, naming places they would someday like to see, quickly turned serious.

"I just off-handedly said, 'We should ride bikes across the country,'" says Thurner.

The idea stuck, even though they had no bicycles, except for Thurner's baby blue Huffy cruiser, a hand-me-down from his grandmother. Then the pair found the Community Bike Project.

"We just slopped some bikes together and left the day after they were done," Thurner says.