
“And he has given me two days to move out,” she continued.
I was fuming. My daughter had transformed that backyard from a barren plot into a blooming oasis. She poured her heart into every plant, every flower, and every single vegetable.
She had always been like this. Lily wasn’t the type of child to sit inside and play with her toys. She preferred to stay outside and get her hands dirty, trying to discover how things grew.
“This is so much fun, Dad,” she told me one day when I was mowing the lawn and little Lily was planting flowers.
“There’s a few worms there,” she said, pointing. “But I still planted the seedlings anyway.”
Her mother hated it. She wanted Lily to have freshly pressed clothing, clean nails, and hair that stayed in place.
“You need to stop enabling this behavior, Jason,” my wife, Jenna, would say. “Encourage her to be a little lady.”
“Not a chance, Jenna,” I would always say. “Let this sweet girl just be herself.”
Now, after everything Lily had done to make her garden her own space, all I wanted to do was try and save her hard work.
“Don’t worry, honey,” I said, a plan already forming in my mind.
“How, Dad?” she asked.
“Because we’ll sort this out. And we’ll do it together.”
The next evening, I showed up at Lily’s place with my truck and a few friends. We were armed with flashlights and a healthy dose of righteous anger.
“Right, guys,” I said. “We’re going to do this for my daughter. We’re going to teach Jack a lesson. That as a landlord, you cannot go around and take advantage of young women.”
We meticulously dismantled the entire backyard haven that Lily put together.
“Dad?” Lily asked when she realized that we were there. “What’s going on?”
“Hi, darling,” I said. “We’re going to teach your landlord a lesson. He cannot do this. So, we’re going to take everything apart. I’ll take your plants home, too.”
Lily yawned and stretched.
“I’ll leave you to it, Dad,” she said. “I’m going to rest for a little bit and then get back to packing up the place when the sun comes up. I’m going to stay with Nolan until I find a place. He’ll be here with more boxes soon.”
“Go on,” I said. “We’ll be quiet, I promise.”
As we worked, every lovingly tended plant, every painstakingly built bed, vanished. By the time we were done, the once-flourishing garden was reduced to a desolate patch of dirt, a stark contrast to the lush photos Jack, the landlord, had already posted for the new listing.
“Thanks, guys,” I said. “You can leave. I’ll just help Lily pack. I’ll pick up my truck later, Malcolm.”
I wasn’t done. There was still more work to be done.
Inside the house, we rearranged the furniture to highlight all the faults.
The cracks in the walls were not hidden by Lily’s art pieces. The missing tiles were left out in the open without any kitchen appliances to cover them up.
“Nothing can be done about the ceiling mold in the bathroom,” Lily told me. “But I have been telling the landlord that we needed to sort it out.”
We replaced all the light bulbs with very bright blue-white ones, making the entire place look stark and uninviting.
As we worked, Lily and I talked about her time in the house.
“I remember when I first moved in,” she said, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The backyard was just dirt and concrete. And I didn’t think that anything could grow here. But eventually it did. And every time I felt homesick, I would come out here and plant something new or tend to whatever was growing.”
“And you made it happen,” I replied, smiling. “You turned it into a paradise.”
She sighed.
“It just feels so unfair. I did everything right, and he still found a way to ruin it all.”
“We’re not going to let him win,” I assured her. “This is just a setback. You’ve got a new adventure waiting for you. Nolan’s place is a good stop for now, but I know that he’s serious about you. Maybe a new house together is going to be the next step.”
I left my daughter’s place feeling confident that her landlord would get a really good wake-up call the next day.
“Dad, can you come over?” Lily asked me on the phone early that morning. “Please be here when I have to hand over the keys to Jack.”
“I’ll be there soon,” I said, buttering my slice of toast.
Lily had me packing her shoes into a box when Jack stormed in, livid.
“What the hell, Lily?” he demanded. “Where are the plants? The flowers? The pictures online clearly show what this place is supposed to look like!”
He sighed deeply, his face turning the color of a particularly overripe tomato.
Lily, the picture of innocence, blinked at him.
“What plants, Jack?” she asked. “The backyard has always looked like this, haven’t you noticed?”
She gestured toward the desolate patch, a sly smile playing on her lips.
Jack, caught red-handed with his deceitful plan, spluttered some incoherent threats about property damage. I stepped in, pointing at the exposed faults.
“You want to talk about damage?” I said, my voice cold.
“Let’s discuss the cracks in the walls, the missing tiles, and the mold in the bathroom. You can see everything clearly now, can’t you?”
Jack’s eyes widened as he looked into the bathroom.
“This is clearly sabotage!” he yelled.
“No,” I replied, pulling out the photos I’d taken when Lily moved in.
“This is exactly how the place was when she moved in. If anything, it’s tidier now. Nothing is missing, Jack.”
Jack tried to regain his composure, but the three couples who came for the viewing that afternoon saw the house in its raw, unappealing state. They all left without putting in an application.
Meanwhile, after a few months, Lily found a new place with a landlord who appreciated her green thumb, not just the potential for profit. As my daughter settled into her new home, I couldn’t help but feel proud.
Lily and I sat on her new porch, looking out at the spacious yard that would soon become her next gardening project.
“Dad, I can’t thank you enough,” she said, her eyes bright with relief and excitement. “I was so scared, but you knew exactly what to do.”
I smiled, squeezing her hand as we swung on the porch swing. “You did the hard part, kiddo. You stood up to him. And now, you’ve got a fresh start.”
What would you have done?
Frank Fritz, “American Pickers” star, dead at 60 — rest in peace
Fans are devastated at the news that Frank Fritz, the antiques expert who gained fame on the reality series American Pickers, has died at 60.
Fritz, who left the series in 2021, had been suffering from health problems and was hospitalized from a stroke two years ago.

The news was announced by Fritz’s friend and co-star Mike Wolfe, who said that Fritz passed away last night.
“I’ve know Frank for more [than] half my life and what you’ve seen on TV has always been what I have seen, a dreamer who was just as sensitive as he was funny,” Wolfe wrote in a social media tribute. “The same off camera as he was on, Frank had a way of reaching the hearts of so many by just being himself.”
Fritz and Wolfe gained fame as the hosts of the reality TV series American Pickers, which premiered on the History Channel in 2010. The series showed the two “pickers” traveling across the USA, searching for valuable antiques and collectibles in unexpected places.

“We’re looking for amazing things buried in people’s garages and barns,” the show’s opening narration explains. “What most people see as junk, we see as dollar signs. We’ll buy anything we think we can make a buck on.”
“We make a living telling the history of America… one piece at a time.”
The series attracted millions of viewers, becoming one of History Channel’s most popular programs. In its debut year it was the #1 non-fiction series among total viewers and adults 25-54.
While the antiques were often interesting, there’s no doubt it was the chemistry and charisma of the two hosts that kept viewers coming back for more.

In 2021, it was announced that Fritz would be leaving American Pickers after a decade on the hit series. Fritz said the decision was not his own, and that he was pushed out by the network after a back surgery.
“I didn’t leave the show,” he told The Sun at the time. “I finished shooting and then I had a little back surgery and the pandemic came.”
He also suggested that his co-host’s ego was a factor, saying the show had “tilted towards him 1,000 percent.” “I haven’t talked to Mike in two years,” Fritz said. “He knew my back was messed up, but he didn’t call me up and ask how I was doing. That’s just how it is.”

In July 2022, Fritz was hospitalized from a stroke. In 2023, he had a tearful reunion with Mike Wolfe, and the two resolved their purported feud. However, Fritz declined an offer to rejoin American Pickers, deciding to focus on his health.
It’s clear that the two former co-hosts have remained friendly since then, and it seems Wolfe was by his side til the end.
“We’ve been on countless trips and shared so many miles and I feel blessed that I was there by his side when he took one last journey home,” Wolfe wrote on Instagram. “I love you buddy and will miss you so much I know [you’re] in a better place.”
American Pickers remains a staple of the History Channel lineup. Fritz has never officially been replaced as co-host, though series regulars like Danielle Colby, Mike Wolfe’s brother Robbie, and friend and antiques expert “Jersey Jon” Szalay will rotate accompanying Wolfe on his antiquing trips.
Colby also shared her own tribute to Fritz on social media. “Frank, I will miss your ability to make everyone laugh, your love for talking tattoos, your epic collections but what I will miss the most are those little glimpses of vulnerability from time to time,” she wrote.
“Frank, you loved your cat and your momma and we bonded on those things. You will be missed for all of these reasons and so many more.
Rest in Peace Road Dog.”
Rest in peace to the iconic reality TV star Frank Fritz 😢🙏 Please share this story in his memory.
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