Lohman didn’t tell his wife, Helene Lohman, that he had bought the bomb until the bomb showed up.

“She was, like, ‘Well, this is my house, too,’ ” Mike Lohman said. “But I said, ‘It’s wonderful. It’s World War II.’ ”

Two decades later, Helene hasn’t exactly learned to love the bomb, but she has stopped worrying about it as much. She said it’s not a big deal. Though it’s a little weird when strangers stop to take selfies with it. And when the Lohmans host Rosh Hashana dinners, she asks Michael to turn off the landscaping lights lest the bomb weird out their guests.

Their now-grown sons, Ben and Lee Lohman, thought the bomb was neat when they were kids but embarrassing by the time they hit high school. “The boys are older now,” their dad said. “They’ve grown used to it.”

This is the story of the bomb as Mike Lohman knows it:

The bomb was discovered in a field that either used to serve as a practice range or a field near a practice range. Pilots would drop such bombs onto targets on the fields. The bombs’ noses, filled with flour, would explode on contact, letting the pilots know the accuracy of their drop.

That’s as much as Lohman knows about his bomb.