The first time I knew I was becoming a teenager was when I was about twelve and I was at Willowbrook Mall. I had met up with my dad after shopping on my own (huge indicator that you are getting older), and as we walked toward the exit, Dad started singing to himself “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. I felt my face get hot. I felt my whole self getting smaller. Somewhere inside of me everything raged and rejected the moment; This. Could. Not. Continue. “Daaaad! Shhh!!!” And so he got louder and louder, into an operatic level of singing and I moved further away from him, my pace quickening, until I was half way out the door and he was ten paces behind me, belting, “if happy little blue birds flyyyyy….” My father reserves his deep belly laugh for only special occasions, and I remember hearing that particular whoop echoing behind me.