Today's Tom Sawyer

A persimmon tree grows outside my window.

The fruit looks good. If I were a bird or squirrel, I'd eat it. But nothing eats the persimmons. The fruits grow and weigh down the tree. Last week, a big hunk of the tree broke off.

Today was not a great day weather-wise. I didn't really want to go for a ride, and I didn't have swimming. Mom and I decided we would cut up and pick up the branch.

I got in my old chair, so if my wheels got persimmon-y, it would be no big deal. And we went out by the branch.

We worked for maybe a minute before my sister came over to help, saying something like she was not going to let her "crippled brother and 80-year-old mother" clean up the yard. Mom is 75. Then my brother-in-law came out. He asked me if I really wanted to be doing this. I assured him I did, so he started helping my sister. Then he started using the clippers, and his little power saw came out.

I sat back and supervised and laughed at how it was like Tom Sawyer painting the fence. Except it was guilt that did it and I wasn't trying.