Robin Williams

I don't even know how to begin writing this one. I really don't. As I walked home tonight from my evening at Barnes and Noble devouring Alex Guarnaschelli's book, I contemplated how to begin this and I'm still at a loss. I'm entirely at a loss.

As I was a stop away from 14th street, I decided to check my phone because I hadn't for a while. Underground with no service, my notifications read a text from my cousin and a twitter notification from the glorious Guarnaschelli herself (because yes, I have my notifications turned on for that beautiful goddess). Both were of the same topic. The text read "Dude. No. I just can't." and above it was the notification that read "Rest in peace, Robin Williams". My heart sank. My mouth literally opened and tears welled up in my eyes.

As I got off the train, the tears were more present. I hustled up the stairs to find refuge in cell service. With one google of his name, I saw it was true. Robin Williams was dead of apparent suicide at age 63. Staring at my phone with nothing in particular being done on it, I walked in the wrong direction three times, eyes full of tears and a heart shattered.

Perhaps I should put some context to my heartbreak. That's why I'm here.

I grew up an only child in a one parent household. I was my own my best friend and often my only source of entertainment. I knew I was funny and I knew I wanted to be an actor. I would act out things in my bedroom and I was never out of material because I lived in my own world. A world where I was the funniest person in it. A world where I created characters and scenarios that lived in my head and still do to this day. An impenetrable world of my own.

I truly discovered Robin Williams in 1991. I was five years old and the movie was Hook. I remember going to see it in the theatres with my mom and my grandparents. To date, it's one of my favorite childhood memories because we didn't go to the movies often, so when we did it was a glorious occasion for me. My dad took me to movies often, but I think it was as more of a distraction from our lack of common interest.

I've lived most of my life through movies. They have been my entertainment, my teachers, my passion and my escape. I loved Hook. And I loved Robin Williams. I fell in love with him. Hook will always be one of my favorite movies and one I will stop and watch every time it's on tv. There were Saturday mornings where my grandma would be making a pot of coffee and I'd be sitting on her living room floor watching Hook and playing with my Barbies that I will never forget.

Somewhere in the interim between 91 and 93, I really discovered who Williams was. I somehow got my hands on his autobiography and read it tirelessly. I remember bringing it to school and reading it when I should've been paying attention to whatever nonsense I would soon forget was being taught at the front of the class. I learned how much we had in common as children, but none so much as the world. THE world. The one I created for myself. His in-depth chapter about the world he created for himself as an only child in an adult's world resonated with me even at that young age. I knew that feeling. I knew what that was. I knew that simultaneous loneliness and comfort in being your own best friend. I knew what it was like to desperately want to make people laugh. I knew what it was like when you got that laugh. I knew him. Since acquiring that book, I've read it dozens of times.

And yes, I loved Aladdin solely based on the fact that Williams voiced the genie. I even made my dad take me to see it twice, much to his chagrin.

But it was in 1993 that I truly found my love for Robin Williams.

I was seven years old. A child of a broken home and complicated relationship with my father. One weekend, my father took me to see a movie I had been dying to see. I was fresh off being terribly sick and it was the first day I was feeling better. My mom gave me the amoxicillin I was prescribed and my dad picked me up shortly thereafter. We arrived at the theatre and my dad bought the tickets. Two for Mrs. Doubtfire. I was thrilled. The movie began and a few handfuls of popcorn in, my dad's phone rang, as it always did. It was a business call so he left me in the theatre and went to take the call. I ate my popcorn and realized instantly that something wasn't right. I didn't feel well. I wanted to feel well because I was really enjoying the movie, but my stomach was disagreeing. I ran out of the theatre in a desperate attempt to find my dad. I couldn't find him. I tripped, fell and projectile vomited all over the Webster Place 11 theatre. This was the day I discovered I am allergic to amoxicillin. A lovely employee helped me find my dad and he promptly took me home to my mom at my request. We rainchecked on the movie.

When I was finally able to see it without puking all over the place, Mrs. Doubtfire changed me. It was a movie about divorce. Divorce wasn't really as common around me then. I was the only kid at my school who had divorced parents at the time and no one really got it. I envied kids with two parents, even though I knew how terrible my household would have been if mine had stayed together.

While silly and funny with jokes over my head, Mrs. Doubtfire's core message was about families. It gave me hope that families could be different or broken in different ways and still be efficient and wonderful families. The end speech makes me well up to this day.


"You know, some parents, when they're angry, they get along much better when they don't live together. They don't fight all the time, and they can become better people, and much better mummies and daddies for you. And sometimes they get back together. And sometimes they don't, dear. And if they don't, don't blame yourself. Just because they don't love each other anymore, doesn't mean that they don't love you. There are all sorts of different families, Katie. Some families have one mommy, some families have one daddy, or two families. And some children live with their uncle or aunt. Some live with their grandparents, and some children live with foster parents. And some live in separate homes, in separate neighborhoods, in different areas of the country - and they may not see each other for days, or weeks, months... even years at a time. But if there's love, dear... those are the ties that bind, and you'll have a family in your heart, forever"


Mrs. Doubtfire will forever be one of my favorite movies of all time. It changed the way I looked at my situation. It gave me a hope and a comfort that I couldn't replace if I tried.


After wearing out the VHS copy of Mrs. D that I still proudly own, I did what I always do when I love something; I had to find out everything about the man behind it. I had to find out more about Robin Williams. I immersed myself in his work. The old, the new and the stand-up. The stand-up was the final thing that changed me.


Robin Williams: Live at the Met. I got my hands on that courtesy of my father, who liked to compensate for his terrible parenting with material things. I'm not sure why he would buy an eight year old an album with such explicit content, but I'm glad he did.


Every night, I would fall asleep listening to this album. I knew it backwards and forwards and even though some jokes were over my head, I laughed. He was loud and brash and unfiltered and had a brain full of weird thoughts that became fantastically executed words. I now knew what to do with all the weird shit in my head. I knew I wanted to make people laugh. Forever. (Ominous.)


My stories can end here, but there are a few more things I want to say.


Robin Williams was my first comedy teacher. I learned so much from watching him work. I learned that it's okay to be weird and loud and that there's a place for people who are. I learned about timing and honesty and delivery. I learned that comedians can be stellar actors.


Unfortunately, I have now also learned that you cannot always live in that little world you create for yourself as a child. I learned that your demons do not always disappear. I hope wherever Robin Williams is tonight he is surrounded by all the funniest people who've gone before him. I hope he is side by side with Jonathan Winters and in the state of euphoria he deserved to live in on earth. As Greg Proops would say, he is swirling in the heavens tonight.


His comedy, his experience, his life were all invaluable to me. He's been a part of me for most of my life and I'm eternally grateful for all he's given me.


And with that, I shall send him off with his own immortal words, "..and now a toast... to the days when chickens have lips..".