So, John Hughes died last week. That was sad. He was still pretty young (only 59) and he was one of those people who had an impact on a lot of us. I was a teenager in the 80s and I distinctly remember sitting in movie theaters watching Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club. Over and over.
And I remember thinking that there was a place, a cool place, in the world for smart girls and other misfits.
Anyway, lots of people have written long John Hughes tributes in the last few days, detailing their favorite movies/favorite characters. I’m not going to add another lengthy one to the list. I just wanted to go on record saying that he made being an American teenager in the 1980s a lot more bearable.
Since the news broke, I’ve been on a strange little nostalgia trip, listening to the Psychedelic Furs
and other bands from the 80s. And the more I listen, the further down that nostalgia path I travel, the more I gotta ask myself – is it any wonder that so many women my age have issues with guys? I mean, seriously… Most of the musicians I was in love with back then were sexually ambiguous. I will forever and ever love Morrissey, but who did he think he was fooling, staying officially in the closet until his 40s.
In case you were wondering, I have absolutely no point. No point at all. That’s the thing with memories, they don’t really have a point.