Allow me to read to you from one of my favorites, Daphne Du Maurier’s Gothic novel, Rebecca: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for
Tag: Downtown Omaha
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I was on my merry way into my newest Byzantine investigation at the W. Dale Clark Library when I happened upon the old club fenced in, like a wayward jailbird or some unruly cattle pen. My heart lifted for a split minute, imagining a resplendent
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Hello Hello Hello….mic check one, two, three…ch, ch, ch…okay, once again…one, two, three. Here we are… welcome! Ladies and gentlemen, we’re coming to you live from the Peppermint Lounge after many, many months of playing the truant. I want to
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Indeed, I have at times been compelled to Gumshoe Gal Friday about town with an affected stealth, mind you, tiptoeing out, weaving in among the foggy folds and lurking in the shrubbery. The only time that I feel a compulsion, ever so faintly, to
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An easy steer east on Leavenworth has long been a pageant for the senses and I suppose it has always been that way. There were animated performers in plenty on that Saturday morning as I hummed along the street, taking it all in—shop
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My Omaha Obsession—as you may by now have gathered—is not really a blog at all; it is only a long walk round our Omaha streets, through the years. If it bores you to walk round Omaha’s streets, peer in the windows of glorious homes and
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If I told you there was a small neighborhood in Downtown Omaha that had the look and feel of a 1920s or 1930s movie set, would you catch a dimbox over there as quickly as you could just to get a gander? Because there is such a strange, thrilling
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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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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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As I remember it, I was eating a hot fudge sundae with my grandmother at a local ice cream fountain. It was an odd little 1950’s leftover, the kind of fountain that doesn’t really exist any more in these parts. My grandmother would park her