"Why do I find it hard write the next line?"

I am having a hard time just letting John Hughes' passing go. I think A.O. Scott's piece, The John Hughes Touch, in today's NY Times goes a long way towards explaining why. Given my dependence on his article for this post, I might well ask, Why do I find it hard to write any line? I forgot that he also wrote the movie She's Having a Baby, which I liked a lot.

Scott writes: "A few years ago an article in Slate pegged Mr. Hughes as a conservative, even a reactionary, whose celebration of rebellion had more to do with the middle-class resentments that brought Reagan into office than with residual anti-establishment radicalism. The answers to this accusation are: maybe so, and so what?" Exactly!

I also like the comparison of Hughes with Jean Luc Godard: "But I don’t think I’m alone among my cohort in the belief that John Hughes was our Godard, the filmmaker who crystallized our attitudes and anxieties with just the right blend of teasing and sympathy. Mr. Godard described 'Masculin Féminin,' his 1966 vehicle for Jean-Pierre Leaud and Ms. Karina, as a portrait of 'the children of Marx and Coca-Cola.' Mr. McCarthy and Ms. Ringwald, in 'Pretty in Pink,' were corresponding icons for the children of Ronald Reagan and New Coke." Exactly!

Scott goes on to say that the death of Hughes makes him "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?" Again, exactly!