Bosnians help build Lincoln’s Silicon Prairie

By Cassie Kernick When Samir Muslic came to America in 1996, his life in Bosnia was already established. He had a wife, Amila, an infant daughter, Hana, and a promising career as a graphic designer. Even during the Bosnian War the determined Muslic found a way to work...

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A new chapter in family’s long, rural history

By Drew Preston Unlike our parents, my younger brother and sister and I have always thought of ourselves as Nebraskans. Tim Preston and Terri Allen met when they were in college. They were one year apart at Buena Vista University in Storm Lake, Iowa. They were married...

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Escaping the Bosnian war for “the good life”

By Hana Muslic I left the city I was born in at 11 months old, hidden in a car seat covered by jackets and a bulletproof vest. “Our story is really a fascinating one,” said my mother, Amila Tanovic-Muslic. My family came to Lincoln, Nebraska, as refugees from...

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My German heritage roots go deep

By Allan Christensen A person’s lineage is often easily broken into little fractional pieces.  Each person made up of two family trees intertwining.  Halves break into quarters and then eighths and further on into fractions much harder to say.  As they get smaller,...

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German ancestors immigrated for religious freedom

By Zach Worthington My family emigrated from Germany to the United States for religious freedom. That's according to my mother, who, as the youngest child in her family took it upon herself to keep detailed records of the family’s ancestral tree. My family is mostly...

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A family history rooted in Millard

By Andy Vipond My ancestors have left many marks in Nebraska. The land that is now Millard, Nebraska, was once owned by my ancestors. A general store in Clarkson, Nebraska, that opened in the 1900s is still being operated today by descendants. My ancestors immigrated...

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New beginnings and strange substances

By Madeline Christensen As a child, I didn’t know much about my ancestry except for a dusty ceramic mug that sat on a shelf in my grandparents’ kitchen. It was emblazoned with big red block letters: “You can always tell a Dane, but you can’t tell him much.” Fittingly,...

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