My mother and my father, and their respective families, the Velis and the Ypis, had radically different values and fundamentally clashing attitudes to pretty much everything: how long it was appropriate to go on mending clothes before it was time to buy new ones, whether Sacco and Vanzetti was a superior film to Gone with the Wind, whether children rested better if they cried themselves to sleep, whether it was acceptable to drink milk that was slightly off, how late, if at all, one could turn up for meetings, and how many days one could recycle leftovers before accepting defeat. The Ypis
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