When I was a fresh out of high school, first semester in college - junior college, no less - journalism student, working on the school newspaper staff, I remember vividly the first time I saw Robin Williams work.
I had the task of writing stories for the paper to publish, that's what you did back then, you wrote on sheets of brown paper taped together, 80 characters across, double-spaced, the pages taped together and if you made a mistake, you used old copy editing marks to indicate where you had omitted a word, rewrote a bit (or struck it out and wrote STET above it) and heaven forbid you missed spelling something correctly. Dr. Helene Sand required a dictionary as part of the text books for her courses, and you had better use it. That A grade of yours can drop to a C in two words, if you don't catch the creative spelling before she does.
That story reviewed the first episode of Mork & Mindy - as well as that incredible flash in the pan, the Star Wars Holiday Special.
Pages of brown paper. Lines and lines of text. I could hardly believe what I'd seen.
I'd never seen anything like it. He was so fast I could hardly keep up, so intuitive and smart my jaw dropped open until I covered it with a hand, laughing so hard I cried. But I wiped my eyes instead of indulging in those tears, for fear I was going to miss something.
I'd never seen anything like it.
Like discovering a color, a flavor, a fragrance - never seen, tasted or smelled before. It was speculative fiction, comedy and stand up schtick all tossed together and whipped into a froth. Very physical comedy, but the delivery was so fast you hardly believed you had heard that joke before it was gone and another one, just as good, was going across.
So fast. So very smart. With so much heart, you cried. I was instantly in love.
I remember writing the words "keep an eye out for this guy, you're going to hear a lot from him. And the sooner, the better." My great and glorious nineteen years of age, but I've never been wrong on that account.
I remember waiting for the first movie he would make. Okay, it was Popeye, screenplay by Jules Feiffer (yes, yes it was), but there were others right behind it and I remember being so happy to see Moscow On The Hudson because I could point and say "Look! See? When he does serious stuff, he only gets better. Watch out - the next one will be just as good, just you wait."
Not everything was my cup of tea, and many times the movies made me cry harder than I wanted to. Awakenings still jerks sobs out of me at the end, and Bicentennial Man is watched when I need a lesson in how to smile with tears falling down the back of my throat.
It never looked easy.
He was interviewed often, being so popular. I don't think I can recall an interview where everything was smooth sailing, coming up just roses - because there were always thorns. An only child, attributing his talent to entertaining himself first, then others to be kept company. A marriage with one child that ended when he fell in love with his son's nanny...and trying like hell to find a way through that with therapy, trying to find a way for it not to ruin the people he loved. Being the survivor of the night John Belushi died of a drug overdose - and being very candid about how easily could have been him as well. Two more children, rehab and depression. Movies, concert tours, Comic Relief, television shows - you only knew he was completely unable to work when something new was not coming out.
If I get a chance to say anything to a performer I admire, one of the first things I do is thank them for staying in the business of being a performer - because while I get the benefit of their hard work, they have to put up with a job description that isn't always kicks and giggles. For the days you're the favorite, there are months and years of when you are not - but few people remember that, let alone see or acknowledge it.
I'd lost track, but was always happy to see those movies get made. Peter Pan? Amazing. Patch Adams? Great choice! Dead Poets Society? Nice turn, very different. Good Will Hunting? Wow. What Dreams May Come? Came out the year my late husband passed away, still afraid to watch it because I might not stop crying once I start.
The character pieces like Mrs. Doubtfire - see, didn't I tell you he was amazing?
But I can't recall a time when I was certain he was happy and content, and in the past year or so - I was certain something was wrong. The media thrives on that sort of thing, and I try to not to look at the train wrecks, but there's a story, and there's a photograph and there's a thud in the pit of your stomach. What can you do with that information? It's not actionable. Everyone loved him, but nobody bothered him - you see that over and over.
I think I might have risked getting my head bit off, given the opportunity. I'm on Twitter, and I remember him doing a calendar as a fund raiser for an animal rescue group up in Walnut Creek - and thanking him for the tip, they're a great bunch of folks. His daughter is on Twitter as well, and is a total gem of a person - Zelda, named after the game because her Dad loved it so. I think he enjoyed being a Dad, and it had to be a challenge to parent under the circumstances he was in. But they were a reason to be sober - it's not like you can throw up on the kids, they're supposed to throw up on you, doncha know.
You wanted to reach out and reassure - today not so good? It's just one day. Tomorrow, everything is new again. There have been many of those kinds of days, remember? Tell you what, I can remember how happy you made me when I had days like yours - let me return the favor? Or just sit next to me and let me ramble, read short stories and breathe room air together with you.
Loving that guy when he worked was as easy as taking a deep breath, it took no thought or expectation. I see so many people speaking up today about just how deeply he moved them, filled their hearts with light and laughter...when in truth, very few of us actually said it with anything more than the gesture we would be happy to see more from him. Come back again - even though the talent was so intimidating, you would never dream of cracking wise around him.
Depression is such a liar.
Please stop looking at the floor.
In my heart of hearts, I truly believe your life belongs to you - first and foremost. You must be free to make the best decisions you can for yourself, and if that means you can't take one more day? Okay, let's sit together for those 24 hours and it we make it to 25, can we think about one more and see how it goes? But if the answer is no, it's no.
Only ten years older than me, and 63 is not even nearly finished when you realize up to forty years could have laid ahead. (How old are you? You're younger than thirty-five, forty, that's your entire life up to this point without ever looking back. This is a huge loss. Huge.) Older, things change and there are few guidelines to follow that don't lead you down a path reminding you that you are no longer 21, have no memories to speak of and nothing to regret. And an industry that seems stuck redoing twenty-something over and over, and thirty-something is really getting up there (never mind that the minds in charge are in their seventies and eighties, oh no, don't mention that ever), and if everything isn't successful? When the work doesn't make it all better anymore - it's no help.
There were eyes on him, and I'm just as certain if this was a suicide, it was a particularly deadly one with no margin for survival. It's something I'll remember.
He tried. He worked harder than anyone I've ever seen, just to put one foot in front of the other - and that was the only thing that looked easy.
I will miss him so much, all the surprises and quirks and unexpected twists and turns. The wry perspective, the reluctance to let stupidity off the hook.
I tend to break things down into threes, and one of them is the quick and dirty "three rules to life" (hey, keep it easy so you don't forget anything). One, do your best. Be prepared, know your stuff and give it your all. Two, if you make a mess, clean it up. And three, never forget that anything you do, whatever decision you make, it's going to hit everyone you know - and likely, a ton of people you don't know. Decide carefully, and think about it - okay?
I can't believe this incredible experience has ended - and like this. Gods, he worked so hard. I am so grateful he did.
And that, in the end, is what I'll remember.
1 comment:
Very well said. Thank you.
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