Like a lot of teens, I liked to rebel with my style. I wore a lot of black while my contemporaries were wearing bright neons, and I decided to wear my black lace-up ankle boots to my high school graduation ceremony. I recall both my grandmothers expressing confusion about my choice and trying to talk me into wearing “nice white pumps.” (Nice white pumps were not in my closet and would never find a place there.) It may be that my parents also talked to me about it, but I don’t have memories of them trying to mettle. What I do recall is the close-up photo my father took of my white graduation gown, black dress, and black boots—and then finding that photo in a frame. Dad has a great sense of humor, and (like my mom) has always been loving and supportive. On the occasion of Father’s Day, this makes me a very lucky girl.