Thursday, May 12, 2016

I Still Recall Central Park in Fall...

The Gospel According to Ferris...

Certain things make me really feel my age.  This is, after all, the season for graduations from educational institutions of all levels.  It was less than one week ago that the Class of 2016 tossed their caps in the air on Folsom Field, which made them the twenty-seventh such group to do so since my class tossed ours into the air at our graduation.  I made damn sure to retrieve mine, by the way.  The whole ensemble was a rental and I was not getting stuck paying for a lost cap. 

I came across an item the other morning while reading the on-line version of The New York Times regarding the lengths to which the City of Chicago shall go to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Ferris Bueller's Day Off.   Matthew Broderick getting older does not bother me in the least.  He and his wife have children for crying out loud.  He could not be a teenage delinquent for the rest of his life, could he?  

But Ferris Bueller turning thirty is an entirely different thing altogether.  Thirty is an age that most of us associate with being an adult.  Ferris Bueller is many things.  An adult is most assuredly not one of them.  

A cultural icon in whose honor a three-day festival devoted to his longstanding principle, "Leisure Rules!", is being held from May 20 through May 22, is something that fits far more cozily in the Bueller wheelhouse.   

Thirty years already?  Proof perhaps, after all, of the speed at which life moves. 


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