"Frances, Cut Down that Tree!"

One of the last times I got to visit with Aunt Fanny (my mom's oldest sister, born in 1910 and the last of her siblings to pass away) when she was still mobile, we went for a walk around the yard, reminiscing about this, that, and the other. When she saw this old locust tree, she burst into laughter. She reminded me how my dad had told her long ago:  "Frances, cut down that tree! It's dead." She said: "He's been gone how many years? [He died back in 1980] And that tree's still here and still has leaves." She's been gone some six years or so, but when visiting my brother who is currently staying at the old house, I saw the tree and remembered. It's still standing—which is a miracle indeed given how hollowed out it is.