hristmas Eve. The nativities I visited contrast of darkness punctured by light， and in
with my wife and her family were trian- the shadows we saw human figures in clusters
gular log constructions perched along with appendages of children， extended family
the levee s edge. One hundred and sixty in all. members， and close friends.
We had hoods and stocking caps pulled over The bonfire construction begins late in Octo-
our ears， disguising us as much as the light mist ber when families and friends cut trees from
and darkness. The incline to reach the levee s their woods， strip off the branches on tailgates
peak was steep， as these man-made mounds of trucks， measure and saw the logs into sec-
had been constructed to keep floodwaters at tions， haul them by flatbed， load after load， to
bay， the neighborhoods safe a hundred yards the edge of the levee where larger logs， used for
from their base， and not as walkways for folks the base， are pulled up the slope by four-
on holiday. Two days of wispy rain and tem- wheeler and tractor， while those for the frame
peratures in the forties (enough in the South to are hand-carried by two or more women and
call a white Christmas) made the ascent pre- men. The top pieces that will be placed later， by
carious--that， and a few cups of hurricane ladder， are brought in by children who treat
punch， them like stars. The logs are then placed， end
Barges， hidden by darkness， ran the Missis- over end， to create box upon box of diminish-
sippi and sounded their fog horns at seven to ing size， spiraling upwards until pyramids
signal the bonfire builders， who distinguished twenty-five feet tall begin to take shape， each
themselves by emerging with lighters and one composed of hundreds of parts--not an
matches to strike the first tiny flares into the afternoon s work， but two months of week-
night and ignite torches they would use to set ends， and the builders claim that their struc-
the levee ablaze. The diesel-soaked logs flashed， tures are sturdy as houses， and that on Christ-
and for a second， seemed to lift off the ground mas morning one can look out the window and
as if they were fiery chariots heaven-bound， still see them smoldering all along the high
but it s nothing that sacred: it s a celebration for ridge.
children who know nothing of death， who be- A century-old tradition passed down through
lieve they re lighting the way through the fog generations naturally inspires attempts to make
and mist for Saint Nicklus. This is Lutcher， one s bonfire unique， and while most take the
Louisiana. Christmas Eve in the South. typical shape， there are variations--Cajun cab-
We wandered to the canal that separates levee ins and deer stands， staircases， log houses， oil
from water to escape the great heat and stray rig towers manned by plastic Santa Clauses.
bottle rockets， the crackling of cane that adorns Some are covered in cane that pops when ig-
many structures， and this is what we saw: the nited， others strung with firecrackers whose
obvious line of bonfires that began with the gunpowder explosions send a succession of
closest--flames stretched to the black sky thirty echoes across the water and back. Banners hang
feet or more--and moved to seemingly smaller from a few with football team logos， proclama-
structures until the burning logs diminished tions for Jesus， or someone not as well known，
into campfire sizes， and then luminaries， and but when the fires are lit， they re caught in the
then candlelight， until the capacity to see even updraft， flapping and curled， sending bits of
night fires failed. Yet we lingered longer and burning cloth into the air like fiery moths. And
endured the cold， resisted the temptation to no matter the cold shape of individual struc-
return to the heat， until our eyes adjusted to the tures， all these yuletide offerings are reduced to
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