I learned of Robin Williams’ death this morning from a text I received overnight from my daughter. She knows I’m a huge, huge fan. If the news reports are correct, he lost a battle with depression. It’s easy this morning to imagine the crushing weight he must have been experiencing.
I’ve been a fan of Robin Williams ever since my brother and I stole away to our family room to secretly watch his HBO special in the 1970’s, naturally without our parents’ approval. His was a unique style of comedy: cerebral absurdity blended with hints of British dryness and slapstick. His eyes and his smile hardly ever contained the good-natured humor that always seemed ready to burst out, even during his amazing “serious” roles, the best of which I think are “Good Morning Vietnam”, “The Fisher King”, “Dead Poet’s Society”, and “Good Will Hunting”.
Our children also grew up with Robin. One of the earliest VHS tapes we bought for them was “Jumanji”, which was watched so much the tape was just about frayed. “Mrs. Doubtfire” was one of the first movies we took them to see at the theatre. And then there was “Hook” and “Aladdin”.
On our trip to Europe in 2006, when we took both our kids, we spent a few days in Paris. One of the sites we visited was the catacombs. For miles, ancient subterranean paths are lined from floor to ceiling with bones of long-dead Parisians. One time, in a Robin Williams inspired moment, I stopped, put my arms around each of my children, and said, “Shhh, do you hear that? Listen!”
We had the catacombs practically to ourselves, so it was dead silent. They, and Lori behind me, both squinted and strained to hear what it was I heard. I leaned forward, craned an ear as if to listen to the bones, and whispered, “Carpe diem…”
I couldn’t hold the joke long and burst out laughing. I hope I never lose that sense of Robin Williams inspired sense of humor.
Carpe diem: I will indeed, my friend.
