I have been going through my old photo albums and finding Omaha pictures. Nothing special. No real artistry. Just buildings that caught my eye as a young person. In September of 1988, according to my ball point penned note, we were in town. On
I have been going through my old photo albums and finding Omaha pictures. Nothing special. No real artistry. Just buildings that caught my eye as a young person. In September of 1988, according to my ball point penned note, we were in town. On
It happened like this. I rushed through the office and asked, “Where did the photograph from 9402 Pacific Street go to?” As I shuffled through a stack of manilla file folders, my coffee stained case notes and recently delivered mail, I pleaded