The lanky young man coming to hang out with the youngest and her friends looked vaguely familiar as he ducked into the doorway to say hello.
"Have we met?" I asked, thinking it had to be outside my daughter's typical inner circle.
Couldn't place him at her recent holiday gathering. Maybe he bags groceries at the supermarket? Busboy at a local restaurant? Some school event I was covering for the Times?
And so I was left to ponder, figuring it would come to me later, like in the days before Google when you had to wait for your brain to randomly plop out that name, place or word you were desperately searching for over a Saturday night dinner with friends.
Days might pass before it finally dawned on you, but you still felt the need to ring up your friends to triumphantly announce that it was Dave Mason that opened for Heart at that concert at the Cape Cod Coliseum in '77 or that Bernadette Peters — not Madeline Kahn — played opposite Steve Martin in The Jerk.
Yay — memory doesn't fail me after all.
And so it finally came to me a few days later, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day while the president was getting reinaugurated and I was killing time perusing my hometown's Facebook page, where someone had posted pictures from the 1978 Weymouth North High yearbook.
There was the boy, or at least his likeness in high school portrait form, scattered on almost every page among the teenage Farrah Fawcett wanna-be's.
What goes around comes around, and evidently that includes teenage boys' bowl haircuts.
On the other hand, the Farrah Fawcett look has evolved. Feathered wings framing the face are way passe, especially for those of us who once donned the 'do with the hopes of attracting adolescent males, many of whom had the best-selling poster of the iconic Charlie's Angel in a red one-piece bathing suit pinned up on their bedroom walls.
Really, what curling iron could live up to that?
As a generation most of us have thankfully moved on, whether it be from Cher's waist-long hippy look, Farrah's feathers or Dorothy Hamill's short, sporty wedge made famous in 1976 when she skated into our hearts and won Olympic gold.
There have been other tress trendsetters since: actress Jennifer Aniston and Victoria (Posh Spice) Beckham continue to inspire a younger generation of copy-cats.
Which brings me back to the presidential inauguration and the monumental notion that bangs are now going to be all the rage.
Yes, our nation's first lady has changed her look. No doubt that is very good news for hair stylists throughout the country who should soon find themselves clipping hordes of bang-less women wanting to follow suit just as they did when the first lady donned J. Crew green leather gloves at the last inauguration. So many women just had to have those gloves, it seems, that they ended up crashing the fashion retailer's website.
So it goes with trendsetters, even if it there is precedent this time around.
Take it from one who already went the bangs route.
While they are cute and pixie-like, bangs are also a necessary step in camouflaging the aging process. Only your hairdresser knows for sure that having wisps of hair draped across the forehead is a fine way to mask those well-earned furrows or the blotchy age spots you worked so hard to create while slathered in baby oil poolside, back in the days before sunscreen was mandatory.
The next step is going lighter.
"Sassy," is the often-heard response I have gotten after having my own locks highlighted in recent months.
But it's not about that — or having more fun as a bottled blonde, I might add.
It's about concession, preparation and an eased transition, perhaps, toward life's graceful winter trek.
"It looks like you have streaks of white in your hair," said my husband, who typically has no clue that I've been to the hair stylist even though my gray and brown roots had been sprouting for weeks.
That would be the point, I tell him, noting that he is well on his way from a distinguished salt-and-pepper look to a full fledged Santa Claus beard and all.
Me? I'll be lagging behind for awhile yet, but I'm well on my way to catching up.
Michele Miller can be reached at email@example.com or (813) 435-7307.