I’m in Tulsa at my mother and stepfather’s house, which is shaded from the Oklahoma sun by several large oaks. Friday night, a large branch from one of these might trees fell and poked a small hole in the roof. By lunchtime on Saturday, my 83-year-old stepfather had been up on the roof with a piece of flashing, shingles, hammer & nails and repaired it. I helped and worried (from the ground) and then aided in cleaning up the leaves and branches.
I tried but was unsuccessful in extracting an agreement about WHEN my stepfather would STOP getting up on the roof. My mother learned long ago that she can’t control other adults. Next time I visit, I think I’ll bring a crew with me.