I Can Breathe in a Small Town

Today I will give you a tour of the town where my husband grew up.  If you’re interested in my hometown, you can look here, though I must warn you that true to form, most of the commentary is sarcastic.
Here is Main Street in the thriving metropolis of Bicknell, Indiana.  Ever seen Cars?  This is Radiator Springs:  the little town that time forgot.
Our first stop was the elementary school where David attended.  Only my husband could get the kids interested in the pebbles when there’s a playground beside them.  I tried to get him to pose face-down on the pavement in the schoolyard, 
reenacting the time he broke his nose, but he refused. Spoilsport.
Jonathan wasn’t falling for the whole “there might be fossils in the gravel” thing.
Here’s the little Catholic church where David’s family attended faithfully each Sunday, 
along with a lovely shot of the smashed bugs on the windshield.
And here’s his house.  I love it when we drive by, because David starts yelling things out uncontrollably.  “THEY RIPPED DOWN THE PEACH TREE!  LOOK HOW BIG THE PINE TREE IS NOW!  WE PLANTED THAT!  THE TRIM IS BLUE NOW!”  It’s all very amusing.
Here is North Knox High School, where David attained cross-country and golf glory.  He threatened to get out of the car and run the cross-country loop for our entertainment but I managed to talk him out of it.
Hello, Midwestern Water Tower.  You are so quaint in your turquoise-ness.
As we left town, we stopped at the local grocery store and picked up a few items, which I’ll show you another time.  Sure enough, we ran into two people David knew.  Small town.