“Sixteen Candles” is one of the movies I pop into the DVD player whenever I’m under the weather. It just makes me happy.

I was in my 20s when John Hughes’ movies began channeling the angst and smarts of teens, putting them on the same level as their alleged smarter and wiser parents. He was genius.

And as much as his words resonated with a generation, it was the music in those films that I remember. I hear the first notes from the Psychedellic Furs and I see Molly Ringwald in “Pretty in Pink.”

The synthesized sounds of the Thompson Twins’ “If You Were Hear”?  I see Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling) leaning against the red Porsche outside the church in “Sixteen Candles.”

Rumor has it Schoeffling is building furniture in Pennsylvania somewhere. Who’s up for a road trip?

When we heard of his death Thursday, many of us were shocked. We were always waiting for the John Hughes comeback. The next great movie.

A colleague, Ray Reyes, and I joked: “36 Candles,” “Ferris Bueller’s Fulough Day Off,” and “The Early Bird Special Club.” If only.

So this weekend, I’m having a John Hughes film festival where I’ll dance to “Twist and Shout,” get in touch with my inner head case and princess and, who knows, I may even give my panties to a geek. (Ok, probably not).

But it’ll be great.

Thanks, John.