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RIP Harold Ramis


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I just read this. Bummer for Chicago folks in general.

And to this Highland Park boy, in particular. Never met him, but just knowing that he haunted my old haunts brings it a little closer to me than it otherwise would have been. Still, a gigantic loss for the world of comedy, nonetheless. A genius.

Rest in peace.

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RIP. One of a handful of people who shaped my young comedy psyche.  

I think the same could be said by everybody here.

We ALL fans, whether we know it or not.

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I posted this on Facebook yesterday, and thought it might be worth re-posting here:
 

 

Harold Ramis once asked for my thoughts about Jay Gatsby.

It was 2006, and Ramis was at the Oriental Theatre as a guest of the Milwaukee International Film Festival. I was there on assignment, and happened to have the theater lobby all to myself in between screenings when I saw Ramis escorted into the room. He was instructed to stay put while festival staff readied the auditorium for his presentation. This meant that he and I were alone in the lobby.

Neither of us had anything to do, so we started talking, mostly about movies and careers. When he learned that my full-time gig was teaching high school literature, he started peppering me with questions. His son was a sophomore reading all the same books, he explained.

I couldn’t believe my good fortune. After all, Ramis was, perhaps more than anyone, responsible for shaping my understanding of comedy and fostering movie love in the 10-year-old me. Here was one of my childhood heroes, and all he wanted to talk about was Henry Fleming, Hester Prynne, and the Old Man on the sea.

For 20 minutes we talked like old friends. And then, as Ramis was finally whisked away up the lobby stairs, I, like a moron, blurted out, “Can I just say, thank you for Ghostbusters!”

When I heard of Ramis’ death, my first thought was of his son, who now must be 23 or 24. I suppose it’s a testament to his effortless warmth and sincerity that my first thought was not of Harold the filmmaker, but of Harold the father who will be missed.

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I posted this on Facebook yesterday, and thought it might be worth re-posting here:

 

 

Harold Ramis once asked for my thoughts about Jay Gatsby.

 

It was 2006, and Ramis was at the Oriental Theatre as a guest of the Milwaukee International Film Festival. I was there on assignment, and happened to have the theater lobby all to myself in between screenings when I saw Ramis escorted into the room. He was instructed to stay put while festival staff readied the auditorium for his presentation. This meant that he and I were alone in the lobby.

 

Neither of us had anything to do, so we started talking, mostly about movies and careers. When he learned that my full-time gig was teaching high school literature, he started peppering me with questions. His son was a sophomore reading all the same books, he explained.

 

I couldn’t believe my good fortune. After all, Ramis was, perhaps more than anyone, responsible for shaping my understanding of comedy and fostering movie love in the 10-year-old me. Here was one of my childhood heroes, and all he wanted to talk about was Henry Fleming, Hester Prynne, and the Old Man on the sea.

 

For 20 minutes we talked like old friends. And then, as Ramis was finally whisked away up the lobby stairs, I, like a moron, blurted out, “Can I just say, thank you for Ghostbusters!”

 

When I heard of Ramis’ death, my first thought was of his son, who now must be 23 or 24. I suppose it’s a testament to his effortless warmth and sincerity that my first thought was not of Harold the filmmaker, but of Harold the father who will be missed.

 

Great post Beltmann. 

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