SPECIAL ISSUE: THE OUTDOOR ROOM / MAN OF THE HOUSE

Brotherhood of the backyard

• Because in the evening, the mountains surrounding L.A. turn purple, then black, and the moon moves through the trees as if looking for lost children. Hey, what's that rustling in the bushes? An 800-pound raccoon? The neighborhood's full of them.

• Because in the backyard, you can't hear the TV.

Chris Erskine
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• Because in the backyard, you can't hear the phone.

• Because it takes the kids 2 minutes, 55 seconds to realize that you've left the house and to hunt you down.

• Because in the name of seeing whether it's done, you can lop off a chunk of charred sirloin and pop it into your mouth.

• Because the first bite of flank steak, properly marinated, is tastier than a wedding kiss.

• Because grilling lets you spend quality time with the kids:

Boy: Dad?

Me: Huh?

Boy: Can I have some money?

Me: Huh?

Boy: Can I have some money?

Me: I'm sorry, my English … it's not so good.

Boy: Dad, can I have some money?

Me: Huh?

Boy: Can I have some money?

• Because grilling is a good time to ponder life's questions: What is love? How much does it cost? When will Costco carry it?

• Because it also gives us time to ponder life's injustices: Why did Cadillac kill the Eldorado? When will Hack Wilson make the Hall of Fame?

• Because grilled meat sends up smoke signals — a lost art, at least in our little suburb of privilege and petty jealousies. Tonight the prevailing winds blow teriyaki smoke across the neighbors' pool, where their dog lies plotting my murder.

• Because the smoke also blows across the freeway to a nearby hospital, where the scent of crisped meat gives hope to all those dining on boiled chicken that tastes like a phone book. "Hurry home," the smoke says. "The grill is ready."

Chris Erskine can be reached at chris.erskine@latimes.com.