When I first read Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road,” I was 14 and lived in a dopey, Shire-like town on the lip of Maryland and Pennsylvania. We jumped off of rooftops and videotaped our friends eating out of trashcans for fun. We were bored. Kerouac made me realize that American culture wasn’t limited to county fairs, Wal-Marts and the NRA. I wanted to find the mad ones he was talking about, the ones who “never yawn or say a commonplace thing.” I recruited my own Dean Moriarty, my wild child 13-year-old cousin Audrey, to embark on a road trip with me. We stuck out our pre-pubescent thumbs and a man stinking of gin and wearing only see-through boxers picked us up. We anxiously jetted after riding for two miles, and we were lucky we didn’t get roofied. But the five-minute, start-of-a-horror-film experience taught me that books make me do crazy things. Fun things.

Kerouac especially has this hold over people – the man inspired Hunter S. Thompson, Bob Dylan and countless other naive little girls, I’m sure. So the 50th anniversary of “On the Road” is kind of a big deal, son. At 7 p.m., the Free Library of Philadelphia will host the beatnik’s birthday extravaganza. Kerouac collaborator David Amram will show his K-love in a musical performance. Afterwards, you get to hang out with Kerouac’s friends and scholars: companion Joyce Johnson and “Why Kerouac Matters” author John Leland will lead a panel discussion.

This anniversary celebration is only one part of a 3-day literary love party, the 215 Festival. The festival is sponsored by cool cats like Philebrity and Flying Dog Brewery.

Photo courtesy of laist.com.