When I was a kid I was fascinated by zippers. The sharp metal teeth surrounded by supple fabric, rigorously aligned by the zipper slider with its little pull. Who thought of that? What a great idea.

Basically, I have confidence in zippers. When I packed my suitcase to go to North Carolina this weekend for my cousin’s big Italian wedding I closed the suitcase with zippers. The little pulls are decorated with blue so I can recognize my suitcase when it comes out of the baggage carousel, a job made easier by the bright pink unicorn stickers my granddaughter used to decorate the bottom of the suitcase.

When zippers break, there’s that moment of surprise because I have so much confidence in the mechanism. One of the small cosmetic bags I use came apart, the zipper came undone in the middle so there was this space where the teeth gaped. It’s hard to fix that.

Like many families, we don’t agree on politics. We will not be voting as a block, the Peirolos. This is not a new situation, and we’ve long ago learned how to navigate it, which is generally to avoid talking about politics. Although many of us do like a good argument, we find it bracing. We argue the way other families might play tennis or board games or golf. Even when we disagree, vehemently, there’s that moment where one person looks at the another as if to say, ‘good point there, I salute your rhetorical chops, even though you are totally wrong.’ I love that look.

Here's what I learned in a weekend with people with an entirely different perspective

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