Temperatures were soaring into the low 100s, and there were 30,000 hipsters, ravers and other types hanging around within two square miles for four days. Throw in about 100 talented artists with the said 30,000 people tucked away into the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, and you have the Wakarusa music festival, taking place from June 2 through June 5 at Mulberry Mountain outside Ozark, Arkansas.
In us resides the power of creation, for better or worse. Every decision we make changes our history. Those extra minutes we search for our lost keys might very well have saved us from the accident on I-80. For all the time we spend studying for our lives, it is that random bit of trivia that one picks up from a game show which breaks the ice with our future spouse.
I'm punched red as the green hills watch. They roll on in silence, echoing the red fists that work my face into bulges and gashes. Carl used to strike me pink with love. But these days, it's with fists.
The Meyer Foundation for Disabilities will hold a late-night bike ride July 16 in Omaha to raise funds for the organization.
A week ago I was dead.
UNO graduates and corporate sponsors unveiled Omaha's first outdoor fitness park June 29 at Elmwood Park.
We should have recognized the omens the night we cruised into Santa Fe. When snowdrifts obscured the friendly signs and covered the windows of strangers that would normally welcome visitors like us; when blizzard-like conditions caused every automobile to creep along the interstate in fear that an overcorrection of the wheel might fatefully crush metal and bones upon impact with red rock encased in ice; when we finally arrived at our hotel room, exhausted after twelve hours on the road, and it appeared as though a drug dealer or wild animal had inhabited the place for months -- crooked picture frames and dank, mustard-colored sheets left behind as ruffled remnants of his nightly terrors, induced by bad trips, bad dreams, or bad luck.