I'm in Nebraska, and thanks to the mystical power of photography, it's like you are too! Wheeee!
This is our niece and nephew, Anya and James. M.Bro's better at babies than me.
My Grandpa has been working on an exhibit for the Norfolk Museum, so their house is packed with amazing old photos, maps, and memorabilia. When Grandpa was discharged by the Navy in 1955, he shipped his duffel bag to his sister in Oakdale. It was locked, and he didn't know where the key was, so it stayed locked when he got back to the US, and continued staying locked when he and Grandma moved into their house (the one pictured way at the bottom) in 1963. The lock stayed on until Grandpa found his dog tags a week ago, with the padlock key on the same chain. His dress whites were still yellowed from a walk through Okinawa before shipping the bag, but after a clorox bath, he said they turned as white as they were a half-century ago. The patches and insignia show his rank, that he was deployed to active duty, and that he served in the records division.
M.Bro and I also took a little drive around Brunswick, the town where my Grandparents have lived since 1963 and my Mom grew up in. There can't be many more than 200 people living there, so it was a very little drive.
You've never seen this much corn, and in fact, I'm not sure you even believed this much corn existed. In the rear pile, the center tower runs a system of exhaust fans that sit under the kernels and blow air up and through them to keep the pile dry. In the foreground, the fans suck air down, pulling air through the corn and also holding the tarp down.
Home of the might Brunswick...ummm..Baseballers, and the stadium where little J.Bro played tee-ball and little league. Led by yours truly at first base, we were league champions when I was in sixth grade.
This is the post office for 68720, where my Grandpa was postmaster for many, many years, and my Mom still works.
Finally, my grandparents' house and my Mom's childhood home. Saturday mornings, when Mom was at work and I didn't have school, I used to stay there, often passing hours throwing a baseball onto their complex roof and letting it bounce around and shoot back down to me. It turns out my uncle Kirby did the same thing as a kid.