Around 3:00 PM, Don Quixote stood at his front door, smoking one cigarette after another.
The sounds of laughter and joy from the surrounding homes made him seem out of place in the neighborhood.
Bei Ling Ridge had a considerable number of Italian immigrants. Compared to the Angsa and other Latin American ethnic groups, their sense of family was much stronger, especially during this holiday.
"Hey, Don Quixote, old buddy," Mr. Stanford said as he drove by. "Where's your nephew?"
"He went out to chase girls," Don Quixote said, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground and stomping it out. "He'll be back in a bit."
Stanford parked his car in front of the house and walked over.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said, pointing at the lawn around Don Quixote. "During the Thanksgiving holiday, if you have the time, you should probably take care of the lawn. You're a member of the homeowners' association, so you need to set a good example..."
