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One of my older daughters chimed in. “Have you looked at your yearbook lately?” “Yes,” I answered, “and we didn’t look stupid.” I paused for a moment, and then added, “Okay. Maybe bellbottoms were the exception.” My wife, Donna, found Elli a dress. It kind of just draped around her. I had forgotten that girls wore those unflattering dresses, but the dress didn’t seem to bother Elli. “Elli, you better come upstairs and let me do your hair,” Donna said. “How are you going to do it?” I asked. “The Farrah Fawcett feathered look?” That was the one thing I remembered about girls’ hair from that era. “What else was there back then?” she replied. “I thought that was a pretty nice hairstyle,” I said. “That’s because you didn’t have to spend an hour doing it, nor did you have to worry about a high forehead,” Donna answered back. The two of them went upstairs, and I finished making breakfast. It took them so long I was sure I would be late getting the kids to school, and me to work. When I finally told them they had to hurry, 6