I delayed writing about Robin Williams because I wanted my
words to be thoughtful, rather than reactionary. I knew I had to wait because my reaction to
his death surprised me. I’m not what
some might call a “fan boy” (or “fan girl,” so to speak). I haven’t swooned over a celebrity since Peter
Tork (of The Monkeys) and Justin Hayward (of The Moody Blues) were in their
early 20s, and I was even younger. For
many years I’ve listened with interest as celebrity death announcements were
made in the media. Normally, I remember
those performers fondly for their accomplishments and thankfully for the
entertainment they have provided. Once
in a great while, a death will affect me to a much greater degree.
When they broke into the programming to announce that
Robin Williams had died, I was completely taken aback. I remember Robin’s first appearance on Happy
Days and how we all laughed at his performance.
No one had ever seen the like. He
made the improbable and the impossible not only believable, but funny. He launched a new kind of comedy that took
the industry by storm; and he kept it up for 40 years. He could bring down the house with a look,
and no other actor or comic was able to emulate his improvisational genius…not
then, and likely not ever.
As an actor, Robin showed us his other sides, his serious
side, his sweet side, his emotional side, his angry side, his passionate side, and
a side that was a more conventional version of funny. He became his roles, and we believed he was
Adrian Cronauer, or Alan Parrish, or Sean Maquire, or Patch Adams, or John
Keating…even Mork, or Mrs. Doubtfire, or the Genie. He breathed life into those roles and into our
lives through them.
And he gave. He
gave his time, his money, his friendship and whatever else he could
muster. The Windfall Foundation that
funds many charities, Comic Relief, many USO tours, donating performance proceeds
to help rebuild Christchurch, New Zealand after an earthquake in 2010; the list
of his charitable work is substantial.
Over the course of the last two days, I have spent much time thinking about why Robin Williams’ death has caused me to feel such a profound sadness. What I realize is that I am not sad for Robin Williams. I am sad for all of us he left behind who will no longer have that bright, shining star to make us laugh and cry and know there is good.
And Robin, he gave his wit, his humor, his
brilliance, his genius, his passion until he had nothing left to give. I would like to think that when he breathed
his last, he said to God, “Beam me up, Scotty, I’m finished down here,” and laughing,
God transported him on a beam of light to become a shooting star. He has joined the Perseid’s as they streak
through our sky and will sprinkle a little humor down on us every year as he
passes by. Safe travels, Robin.
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