Go Dad Go!

A self-important blog about riding bikes, raising kids and the all-too-rare nexus of these two pursuits.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

John Hughes, R.I.P.

I've been surprised and heartened by the strong, broad and overwhelmingly wistful response to the news of John Hughes' death. I've read and heard words like "genius" and "voice of a generation" attributed to him in papers, on NPR and on sports radio; whether you agree or not, I expect you'll feel more comfortable attributing those titles to Hughes than to Kurt Cobain.

I'll not try to write my own praise; I'd be straying quite far from the ostensible gist of this blog. Instead, I'll paste a paragraph from A.O. Scott's column in the New York Times.

[Hughes' and other eighties figures'] deaths make me feel old, but more than that, they make me aware of belonging to a generation that has yet to figure out adulthood, for whom life can feel like a long John Hughes movie. You know the one. That Spandau Ballet song is playing at the big dance. You remember the lyrics, even if it’s been years since you heard them last. This is the sound of my soul. I bought a ticket to the world, but now I’ve come back again. Why do I find it hard to write the next line?


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