Come Back to the Five and Dime, John Hughes, John Hughes

Well, it was a blow to find out that John Hughes, director, writer, and producer of many movies, not to mention the wall paperer of my entire adolescence, died yesterday while walking on a very pleasant afternoon in New York City.

How is it possible that he was only 59? Shouldn't he be 100, some ancient scribe, sitting in the tower of his billions of dollars with framed mementos of Molly Ringwald? I maintain that he jumped the shark at Home Alone. It was his last hurrah, as far as I'm concerned, and while I loved Planes, Trains, and Automobiles and She's Having a Baby, let's face it: something so right happened when he decided to start with teenagers. I was 12 years old when Sixteen Candles was released. His films entered the scene just as I did. It pretty much was the perfect storm. Added to this was sense for casting which launched the careers of how many now well known actors? 15? 20? He had a knack for capturing the humor and the angst that teens at the time not only related to, but wanted to see. To top it off he also seemed to have a GOLDEN EAR for the perfect accompanying music. Every slumber party I enjoyed (or didn't) from 12-15 had a soundtrack from a John Hughes film. The Psychedelic Furs, INXS, the Smiths, Simple Minds, Lick the Tins, among too many to name weren't just the soundtrack in the movie, they became the soundtrack to the INNER movie. They were the movie after the movie. Late at night on my Walkman, whether I was in a tent camping in Lake Powell, or laying in my own bed in Palo Alto I would rewind and play my favorite songs imagining my ideal life, wearing the tape thin so the recording clouded and dulled from too much use. Against these songs, I got the boy in the end, I didn't feel awkward, and all was well. It was a good way to fall asleep each night.

I still maintain that the best double feature of my entire life was Ferris Beuller's Day Off and Pretty and Pink at the Village Theater in Coronado, California the summer of 1986. It was dollar night and the place was swarming with teenagers. My cousin Aimee and I sat behind a row of five girls, who were all around my age of 14. To this day I remember them clearly because of the drama that unfolded between three of them. Two decided, for whatever reason, to hate and harass another one until she looked like she was going to cry (Ah, yes, how I LOVED being a girl aged 12-14!) Then the lights went down and the magic began. Where the heck was that town outside of Chicago where they all lived anyway? It looked so lush and pretty and everyone was wealthy and sexy, except if you were Duckie and Andie and then you didn't need money to wear the coolest outfits ever. Let's face it, Duckie was ROBBED! Andrew McCarthy's Blaine was a BUG EYED weenie. I would have chosen Duckie to go to the prom over Blaine ANY DAY. He had a pompadour AND he could dance!

I had a friend who, after changing schools, tried to change her name to Andie. It didn't stick, but I see why she tried it. Andie was arty and smart. She never lied. Why not, Andrew McCarthy wanted to know. Because she didn't have to. I remember at 14 wanting so bad to be able to live up to that creed. A life where you didn't have to lie, is a life where you felt safe. I did not feel safe, but it was an idea that stuck with me all through high school. It sticks with me now.

John Hughes, thank you for your great effort. May I see you in that great movie theater in the sky. You choose the records.