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Miranda, my daughter by a marriage sixteen years dissolved, was a sophomore at Buffalo State College. I had, the previous August, deposited my very own Barbie Doll, brunette, at Buff State; two weeks later I paid my first weekend visit. Miranda's hair was cut short, spiked and purple; she was dating a very nice young man who looked like Uncle Fester. He shaved his head bald, wore black lipstick, black nail polish and dressed in a black coat with a furred collar. Although I have nothing against the man, I had never, ever thought of Uncle Fester as a son-in-law. This came as a wake-up call. My daughter's life was more interesting than my own.