Long ago I accompanied my grandmother on a magical visit to the Swanson Towers, off of 84th Street. 8405 Indian Hills Drive, for those among us who require exactness. My grandmother was paying a call to a rather chic galpal and truthfully, this
Category: General Investigations
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An amateur detective is a wild and highly-strung creature, whose mind trembles with each newly discovered (and imagined) clue. It is so strong and so persistent—this obsessive love. There is always another piece of the puzzle to resolve, to work
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I spent one of the happiest mornings of recent memory lounged on a chaise of Mr. Cassette’s family lake house dock, watching. Turned toward the beach, I lazily gazed as Mr. Cassette was bending down over the sand, head hanging and with quick,
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Fellow detectives, many gathered here behind this darkened hedge are not members of the My Omaha Obsession’s Facebook page, which is fine with me. I understand. I am fortunate to have met you at all. As an aside, many of my favorite exchanges
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Some of us fall in love with buildings and gardens and I venture to suggest this might just run in families. I fall in love everywhere I look in Old Omaha, architecturally speaking, but at times I am not quite sure where this obsession came
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There are some people that you might come across who claim that humans begin to assume the look of their family pets. Others still who proclaim that couples most surely begin to look like one another, the longer they are together. Are our homes
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There was never an afternoon that I didn’t look forward to a trip to Downtown Omaha with my grandmother. I felt like I was going back in time. She would get dressed up and expected that I would dress up as well. It seemed that all of the older
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Omaha friends, I’ve been hoping that you’d drop in. Your hands are like ice. It’s bad out there. No cabs to be had out there, as they say in a favorite holiday song. Might I recommend you just hunker down and stay a while? We are in good
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I remember fake falling asleep in the backseat of my family’s car, driving home after special nights in Downtown Omaha. Father of Miss Cassette had a number of favored routes that would return us to our home in Benson but his chosen path
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Had one been in the habit of making squealing sounds of delight, this would have been an occasion for doing so. It all began when I opened an email from Sherri Moore, Director of Events for Joslyn Castle, asking for a bit of assistance with the