Sort of funny positive thing, the kind of thing that can happen when civil and rational people gather, is that we are cooking family dinners that include Lyman's son Michael and my brother Charles.

Michael and Charles enjoy each other's company tremendously. Charles is gay. Michael is not. Charles is 61. Michael is 38. Charles is in many ways conservative. Michael is not. But they are both quick-witted and like to laugh.

We had one such dinner Friday. Lyman and Michael cooked (what's not to like). The menu was seafood stew -- a tad different from gumbo, a blanched vegetable salad with vinaigrette, and bread. Cocktails.

Conversation included Southern manners, Mardi Gras, "Brokeback Mountain" (Charles liked it), Larry McMurtry, Truman Capote, Norman Mailer, Gary Gilmore, the death penalty (all against), black-white relations in the South, Monroe, LA, Jackson, MS, the paucity of stylish men's hats in the area, tuxedos (Charles needs one, Michael saved a Playboy with ads), and high-maintenance Dallas women. There was more.

Michael and Charles are planning a day-trip to Baton Rouge to visit gentlemen's clothing stores and Tony's Seafood, and maybe do lunch at Phil's.

Lyman and I look at each other and shrug.