“I told you to leave him alone.” “Yes, Papa.” “I told you that some people don’t want to be friends.” “It’s hard to shovel snow.” “There will be a lot harder things in life, so shoveling a few inches of snow is good training.” “You mean a few feet.” “Mimi,” he says, and takes my hands gently to make me pay full attention. “It is important that you understand. We are new here. These people have lived in this town many years. Their parents and grandparents and great-great-grandparents were born here. To them we are visitors—” “You mean strangers?” I ask. “To some people, we are. And you should know that we might always be. But we still have to respect them and their ways.” “Then, let’s go back to California,”