Tales of teenage debauchery and tom foolery litter the memories of most college students, I am no exception to this rule, this can be seen by the many artifacts from random escapades I have lying around my room, weather it is the smirking lawn gnome, or the statue of Saint Francis found at a convent in western Nebraska all of these items have an interesting tale and personal memory attached to it from a night that I will never forget with close friends. But the jewel of my collection is not a statue or decoration but a mere street sign.
Hanging proudly in my room is a two foot by fifteen inch metal sign that on its plain white back ground with read lettering reads “Fish Market Parking Only Mon. Thru Sat. Until 6 P.M.” On the white surface there are many cuts and scrapes along with yellowed patches scattered about the face of the sign. There are two holes, one that rests at the top of the sign and one mirroring it at the bottom. The holes are speckled with rust which is a product of having been exposed to the elements for several years. The sign was daringly rescued from a fish market located in the old market of Omaha Nebraska, it’s quite the coveted piece of art work, I can count on more than two hands the number of friends I’ve had who told me they tried to steal this very sign, but luckily this piece of Omaha rests securely among my other belongings that I am able to sit back with and reminisce in the great stories I have from accomplishing such feats, while reveling my many dusty old memories.
Hanging proudly in my room is a two foot by fifteen inch metal sign that on its plain white back ground with read lettering reads “Fish Market Parking Only Mon. Thru Sat. Until 6 P.M.” On the white surface there are many cuts and scrapes along with yellowed patches scattered about the face of the sign. There are two holes, one that rests at the top of the sign and one mirroring it at the bottom. The holes are speckled with rust which is a product of having been exposed to the elements for several years. The sign was daringly rescued from a fish market located in the old market of Omaha Nebraska, it’s quite the coveted piece of art work, I can count on more than two hands the number of friends I’ve had who told me they tried to steal this very sign, but luckily this piece of Omaha rests securely among my other belongings that I am able to sit back with and reminisce in the great stories I have from accomplishing such feats, while reveling my many dusty old memories.
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