A month before my father officiated my marriage on a cliffside in Bolinas, California, my parents took me shopping for a wedding shirt in San Francisco. While we were browsing in a boutique in Pacific Heights, deciding between gray and blue, “Just Like Heaven” by the Cure began playing through the store speakers. 

“Do you know this song, Dad?” I joked. He looked back inquisitively, unable to discern the low-volume melody with his percussion-damaged hearing. Behind us, the salesperson said to her coworker, “This is definitely one of my top ten favorite songs.”