When neighbors complain.

We gave a party last night.  It was for Father Eric, who’s led the Paulist Productions out here in Los Angeles for the last five years.

He got a major promotion — going to head up Paulists in New York.

We wanted to honor him, and had about 5o people over — along with a band led by another friend of ours, who’s involved in another Catholic organization we support.  The drummer came early to set up, and by 6:30PM the music was happening.  Our outdoor courtyard was magically transformed into an al fresco stage.

Someone whispered to me, “Father Eric likes to sing” — and so we cajoled him to do a number.

He rocked it, and I felt goosebumps up and down my arm … because I knew, as I looked around, that this was a magic moment.  That I would always remember Father Eric for taking the mic, for sharing his voice and for sharing his love.

Later, after the caterers had gone home, I saw I’d gotten a message on my home machine.  An angry neighbor had called to complain.  We live in a place where he’s a long, long distance away… but evidently the sound wafted over to his cave.

Rather than call him back today and risk getting into an argument, I took the high road and wrote him this note instead.  Vin was angry enough that he signed it too.

I doubt this guy will forgive. as I implored him.  Our other neighbors wrote us notes this morning about how much they had LOVED the live music.  There’s always one who’s looking for a fight.  But I didn’t want him to think I was ignoring his call.  He’ll get the letter tomorrow and maybe by then, he’ll have calmed down a bit.  Or not.  At any rate, one buzz-kill will not ruin for us what was intended to be a reminder of how we should “love thy neighbor”.