Robin Williams

          San Francisco is not where I was supposed to be when Robin Williams died.  I’m not a San Franciscan, I just work here.  But around me on Monday afternoon were plenty of San Franciscans.  These people grew up with Robin Williams in a different manner than I.  I saw him on TV and in movies, they saw him in their hometown.  Just minutes after we learned of his death, stories of him winking at someone in a coffee shop, smiling as they passed on the sidewalk, or delivering a surprise routine at a local comedy club started circulating.  On Monday it was like I was the guy at a wake who is not a member of the family, and didn’t know the deceased.  I could smile and enjoy the stories, but I could not really participate in the remembrances.

            I think making someone laugh is hard.  Really hard, but man, when it happens it’s like a drug.  I didn’t pay a lot of attention to Robin Williams.  Although he is in one of my all-time favorite movies; The Fisher King, I was only aware of him when he was actually on the big or small screen in front of me.  But there was one time he made me laugh.  One time, he killed me.  As the genie in Aladdin he was, in my opinion, perfect.  As soon as he was released from the lamp, he owned that movie (“he” being both the genie and Robin Williams).  If the Disney animators were smart, they would have waited until he was completely done before drawing a single cell of his character.  It gave me the kind of enjoyment where I miss something like a third of what he was saying because I could not hear over my own laughter.  That to me is Robin Williams, and while all the accolades he’s received for his dramatic work are well deserved, it’s the blue cartoon with no feet who will embody him from now on.  For me.  I hope he experienced some of the enjoyment making that character as I did watching it.   

          That's it.