It's a new year. Probably fewer than two hours into it I scolded the police officer who thought he had some business on my front porch. I'd ducked into my bedroom to take a quiet moment when a knock came on my door, Hey Jono, there are some cops on your porch. Cops? On my porch? I immediately thought of my brother and my dad. What would they do? I went out in my suit and gold watch and asked the officer what business he had being on my front porch. My friend was standing beside me in a dapper, all-white suit. The cop pointed down at the spent fireworks he had gathered from the street and piled on my front steps. He told me they were illegal. He told me he would search my house for the rest of them. I told him he had no business on my porch or searching my house. A friend peeked out the window. He said it looked like we had some underage drinking going on. Everyone here is thirty, I said. Please stop yelling at me, I said. He was disrespecting me on my own front porch, only two hours into the new year, and I did not appreciate being yelled at. Then four more squad cars rolled up with their lights flashing. The cop I was dealing with was much younger than me. He had something to prove. Did he think he would get somewhere in the force by busting someone for fireworks? I said, Just take them and leave. There was a fair amount of unspent fireworks in a bag. He wanted to know who had brought them. No way, buster. Not at my tamale party. Oh right, the tamales. We ate sixty-five of the seventy total tamales. The red chili sauce came out beautifully, too. The house was really rocking when the police showed up. Mayhem on the dance floor. The old floorboards took the beating beautifully. I love this house. It can get through anything unscathed.