Let There Be Light

In the months that followed, the two men talked, but rarely about lights or pranks. So it was with some delicacy nearly three weeks ago that Steve brought up the lights.

Not yet, Richard had said.

Out of respect, Steve agreed . . . only to come home a few days later to find the entire front of Richard's house decked in some 4,000 lights.

"I started cursing," Steve said. "You probably can't print what I said, but basically I was like, 'What the heck, dude? You said nothing this year.' "

Richard just gave him a sly smile and a laugh, the way he used to so often in the old days.

"I changed my mind. Tough break, man," he said. "Better get moving if you want to catch up."

A few days later, out of earshot of Steve, he explained his decision this way: "I started sorting through the boxes, and one strand led to 30, which led to 50. . . . Look, it comes down to this: The lights bring a little flash to your life, and one thing I've learned is that you get your kicks out of life where you can."

* * *

By last week, the war was once more in full swing. But with little time and ammunition left, it was looking dire for Steve, who never really caught up after Richard's surging lead.

Finally, on Wednesday, he walked over to Richard's garage and admitted defeat.

"I'm going to wait until next year to stomp and crush your dreams," Steve said.

"Look, the man just lost and already he's talking up a storm," Richard shot back.

"I'm going to have so many lights next year, people will be tanning in my driveway," Steve said.

"Talk is cheap. Light speaks wonders."

Christmas -- with all its lights, insults and rivalry -- had returned to Severn Avenue.

Staff researcher Meg Smith contributed to this report.