September 03, 2007 - 1:51 AM.

Luau

It is almost 2 in the morning here at my in-laws' place. Mother-in-law is "up," sleeping upright in her recliner with a blanket on and a thick knit cap pulled down all the way to the tip of her nose (chemo makes her cold I guess). Next door a pack of Samoans is partying into the night. There is a bonfire, there are three ukeleles (none skillfully wielded, unfortunately), there are black SUVs with pro-Samoan slogans olde-English lettered across the tops of windshields. There are Christmas lights, lots of beer, songs sung in a Hawaiian language (again, inexpertly, beer may be partly to blame), large tables of food, half a dozen children, probably just a dozen adults left now. It's too forking loud, but there is an air of unhurriedness about the whole affair that lulls even as I think daggers at them lest they wake my baby. Plates of food have stopped coming out the back door, couples are sitting dreamily listening to the singers, kids are settling down. It's halfway between irritating and nice, ordinary dumb late party and comforting family scene you're glad to live next to.

However long they might take a party - and these folks can - they're never going to get into their car and run over your wet lawn. As bright as the fire is running, it's never going to catch the fence. For every spilled cup of beer by the 25-year-olds, there's a plate of macaroni salad and another try at a Hawaiian song. So it sort of evens out.

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