I thought I had caught a lucky break back in 2015. A remodeling of the Beverly Hills Plaza at 78th and Dodge exposed a large ghost sign had been perfectly sealed underneath the strip mall’s eastern façade. I snapped away at the hand-painted
Tag: Loveland Neighborhood
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A little birdie has once again tipped me to goings-on along Pacific Street in the mysterious 85th to 87th vicinity. I had written about the real estate development scheme involving the razing of seven Mid-century Modern ranches and older trees
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I have always felt that winter was the absolute best time of year for house spying, what without all of the beautiful, interfering foliage, the disturbing undergrowth, the distracting flowers, all forms of plant life that normally wink and
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A little bird had tipped me to the soon-to-be demise of seven homes on Pacific Street extending from 84th to 87th. –that strip of mostly classic ranches on the south side, leading down to the lights at Countryside Village and Westside
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There is a part of town that someday might be the death of me. If not wholly consumed by its beauty, hopefully of pleasant equivalence. On this Mr. Cassette and I agree: the wandering country lanes in and around Westside High School possess us.
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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 Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for
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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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“Now that is a moon….” Mr. Cassette sighed, as we were lying under our Larch, staring up at the sky just the other night. This is his new thing, lying on the still warm ground and one that I have fully embraced. For the spring
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One of the many pastimes Father and Mother of Miss Cassette encouraged while I was growing up was a love of reading in bed, right before lights out. Father of Miss Cassette would often cloister away and read during a weekend day or in the
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Mizman loh hitraehnu. For those of us who have longed for a real deal Jewish delicatessen to open in Omaha, I’ve heard from a little bird in the know, that we are all in for a big treat. No more pining away for a deli visit back East. At long