Atwater evening

there is a steady hum of city sound filling the low frequency around me. Its nice that its steady, a low wash of noise. Off to my left some indian women and their children talk and play. They are no longer indian, they are like me, american, but they choose to observe certain customs of where they come from, and to speak in their native tongue.
From a window over looking a child, I know because I see the silhouette, practices violin. She's still learning but great.
A man on a picnic table to my right is reading what I hope are chinese proverbs.
I'm grilling a steak, smoking a cigar and drinking a bud light, retaining some aspects of my peoples culture.