Feature

To Harold Ramis

(www.listal.com)
Chad W. Lutz
You're not with us now, and that's weird to me. It's weird because, speaking for the millions who cherish and admire your work, you will never leave us. Tonight, I'll go home and pop in Ghostbusters or Stripes and there you'll be. I can look through boxes of lost memorabilia hiding in back closets or crawl spaces like time capsules; you'll be there, too. You're a part of the stories I write, of the humor I possess, and of the overarching mental collective to which Americans living in both the late 20th and early 21st centuries so easily connect with through your works. Like the flowers, your works are still standing.

It's going to be hard to believe that you're actually gone. I have a Ghostbusters II puzzle which I assemble from time to time lurking in my hallway closet. It's 500 pieces and depicts you, Bill Murray, Dan Akroyd, and Ernie Hudson, in character, jumping out of the Ghostbusters' ghost logo. Because of you, I now know to never cross the streams. I know shutting down the containment unit would be bad; very bad. I know that chicks find guys attractive who rarely wear underwear, and what having a large epididymis means. Because of your storytelling, the existential ramifications of living the same, horrible holiday over and over again no longer serve as mystery. Also, thank you for being a vehicle for Andie MacDowell. I figure I should just throw that out there since we're on the topic. You created memorable characters, ones that we'll never forget; Carl Spackler hacking up flower beds while pretending to play Augusta; emotionally confused mob boss Paul Vitti and his psychiatrist Ben Sobel; self-absorbed weatherman Phil Connors; raging John "Bluto" Blutarsky, Dean Wormer, and so many other comedic roles we'll never forget.

It won't be easy accepting that you're dead because so many of your wonderful creations will live on long after today. May you rest in peace, Harold Ramis. And may we continue to enjoy your brilliant work for years and years to come.

RIP November 21, 1944 - February 24, 2014