Goonies never say die.

Mikey on adventure. (The Commonplace Book Project)

You can find all the posts in The Commonplace Book Project here:

“Don’t say that! Never say that! Goonies never say die! . . . The next time you see sky, it’ll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it’ll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the bestest stuff for us. But right now they gotta do what’s right for them, ’cause it’s their time. Their time, up there. Down here it’s our time. It’s our time down here.” — Mikey, The Goonies

There are a few stories that had such an impression on me when I was young that they consistently show up as inspirations in my work to this day.

The Goonies is one of those stories.

It came to theaters in June 1985 — when I was thirteen. The summer before high school. The summer before my family fell apart. That summer is magic. Not my particular summer, but that summer for everyone.

The summer when you’re still a kid, but not quite. When you’re a teenager, but not quite. It’s ripe for adventure. That’s the feeling that I’m constantly trying to capture in my work. And it’s the feeling that is captured so perfectly in The Goonies.

The early and mid 1980s were a golden age for movies, I think. Right now TV is having a golden age and they just aren’t making movies that have the same impact as they did then.

When I came across The Goonies playing on VH1 yesterday, I recorded it. What a perfect way to spend a rainy Easter Sunday afternoon.

Make sure to watch the official video for Cyndi Lauper’s The Goonies song. (But be prepared for nostalgia overload if you’re an 80s kid. They don’t make videos like this anymore, either.)

When I’m done watching the movie, I think I’ll check out this Making Of video. It’s free with Prime.

Today’s Essay:

If there’s one horror moment that always really gets me, though, it’s when the mighty Chunk — and his confession scene is up there with Phoebe Cates explaining why Santa doesn’t exist in Gremlins for me — finds himself in a refrigerator at one stage, only for a frozen corpse to become apparent behind him. I continue to find that terrifying, made all the more real by Jeff Cohen’s performance. When Chunk screams, I’m right behind him. It’s a hell of a moment.

Today’s Short Story:

The Defenders, by Philip K. Dick

TAYLOR sat back in his chair reading the morning newspaper. The warm kitchen and the smell of coffee blended with the comfort of not having to go to work. This was his Rest Period, the first for a long time, and he was glad of it. He folded the second section back, sighing with contentment.

“What is it?” Mary said, from the stove.

“They pasted Moscow again last night.” Taylor nodded his head in approval. “Gave it a real pounding. One of those R-H bombs. It’s about time.”

Today’s Poem:

Oregon Poem by Romella Kitchens

Oregon, I remember you. The way your trees were unregretful and made imploring love to the rounded breasts of the sky.

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Shaunta Grimes is a writer and teacher. She is an out-of-place Nevadan living in Northwestern PA with her husband, three superstar kids, two dementia patients, a good friend, Alfred the cat, and a yellow rescue dog named Maybelline Scout. She’s on Twitter @shauntagrimes. She is the original Ninja Writer.