Don't You Forget About Me

It's interesting what summer boredom will do to you. These days I'll consider just about any activity as long as it keeps us cool, stops the kids from fighting for 30 minutes or more, and doesn't contribute to the trash heap that has become our home.

One night last week, which was an especially harried and harrowing week for reasons I won't go into here, I decided to force the kids down for a movie early in the evening with the hope everyone would go to sleep reasonably early. That movie was the Breakfast Club.

I have fond memories of the Breakfast Club. I remember when I saw it and who I saw it with. My high school friends and I quoted that movie for years. It was one of the first movies we felt really talked to us and accurately for us.

What I didn't remember is that it's a little salty. There's the language (worthy of an R rating), the sexual innuendo, and oh yes, the pot smoking. Luckily, most of that went over the boys' heads, and as it turns out, they loved it, mostly for the reasons I did as a teenager.

I'll admit I was surprised at how relevant it still seemed, how accurately it depicts the way teenagers speak and interact.

But the biggest surprise, much to my chagrin, was that I now identify more with Principal Vernon than with the kids.