There is a worn 1963 photograph I had stashed away in a tissue-y sleeve in my desk for this very day. The image revealed the long ago, northeast corner of 15th and Howard, a building no longer standing. On the whole, fictitious. Like a Jim
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Here in the detective office, just as at home, I like to keep up appearances, if for no one but myself. The mishmash of a period-imbued backdrop fans my little dream, nudged along by the likes of Ethel Waters and Scrappy Lambert and his Colonial
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The Miss Cassette Detective Agency had suddenly sprung into being one day in a rented, 1940s furnished office enshrouded in Midtown. My objective was to handle and solve the closed book architectural cases with which I was perplexed and couldn’t
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Years ago, when I had first hired Mr. Cross to address my messes in the detective office, attend to telephone calls and handle my mailings and such, he placed an opened, pale blue envelope on the ol’ tanker in a la-de-da manner. With
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With a catch of my breath, amidst all of the confusion and novelty of this perilous time, I smile to greet this early spring. I smile to see this sunshine today. I am smiling, too, at you, my friends, in your little corner of the world. Safe and
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Omaha, you sure are pretty today. 5678 Marcy woke up like this. Easy on the eyes. 5678 Marcy, I will be back to wink at you at a later date. I welcome your feedback and
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Hello and welcome! Dear Detective Friends, today, March 2, 2020, My Omaha Obsession is celebrating a four-year birthday party online. We have grown so much this year and I want to thank each and every one of you for that. You have really spread
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It was last May that my passion for 56th Street, on the fringe of the Country Club District, developed into an obsession. On special assignment, I had snuck to see if I could uncover the Archie Love summer home, just a side note, really, to
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I will admit, I have an obsession with cobblers and tailors. These craftsmen’s workrooms were occasionally visited on Saturday errands when I was young and from those brief but memorable interactions, it was their particular scent that
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To flute or to coupe one’s champagne? These are the contemplations on the Eve of the Eve. I do love these eves of the eve–always with the hope and excitement of an innocent. This year I woefully secured our New Year’s reservations months