On the Loss of an
Icon and the Memories That Remain
August 12, 2014, began like any other. Alarm clocks rang to
usher in the new day, and most people’s morning routines likely resembled those
of the previous day. For me, that meant breakfast, a quick check of the latest baseball
scores, and a more in-depth viewing of the day’s news – again, it was dominated
by the ongoing crisis in Iraq, the confrontations in the Ukraine, and the
unending calamity that is the Israel-Palestinian conflict. I soon switched to
IMDB, and for a moment stared in shocked disbelief. It was too incredible, too
horrible to believe. CNN wasn’t reporting it, SFGate wasn’t reported it, and
for a moment, I entertained the notion that this notice, like so many similar
ones on the internet these days, was erroneous, perhaps one of those cruel jokes
that people with too much time on their hands sometimes play on an unsuspecting public. Sadly, this was not to be. A few minutes later, the news began appearing
everywhere, as if the world’s news organizations had just confirmed en masse something
that they had been hoping they didn’t have to report, that the great Robin
Williams was gone.
Our paths had crossed briefly some years earlier. One busy
Christmas season, he had come into the Wherehouse on Geary Blvd. looking for
some video games for his son. I just happened to be working the floor that day
and was tasked with finding all of the games he had selected. It wasn’t easy.
As I fumbled through hundreds of games in the back room looking for the only
remaining copies we had in stock, he stood to the side of the sales counter waiting
for me to announce the results of my efforts. Eventually, he had his games. I
remember the way he thanked me for my effort; he seemed genuinely appreciative.
We shook hands, and I went back to work.
I was fortunate to be working during two of his other visits
to the store. On one occasion, I remarked that I was looking forward to his
next movie, which was then One Hour Photo,
a sentiment that he thanked me for. Some time later, he came in a day after
appearing on Drew Carey’s television show Whose
Line Is It Anyway? and as I passed him, I mentioned that I had enjoyed his
performance. He remarked how great the guys on the show were and how much he
had enjoyed doing it. It was clear just how sincere his praise of their creativity
was. Later, when he left, he engaged in a chat with an incoming customer and
waved to a car that honked at him as it passed. He was just that kind of
person.
Years earlier, I had seen him standing in line to see a
movie at the AMC Kabuki. He was alone and quiet, yet friendly and welcoming at
the same time. In fact, in all of my brief run-ins with him, I have no
recollection of him ever “performing” for the crowd of onlookers that he must
have known were around him. He shopped alone, was soft-spoken, and was
genuinely cordial to everyone around him. I never heard him refuse to talk to a
fan, and when one initiated an exchange with him, he didn’t shy away from a
short conversation.
I do not have a picture of me standing next to Mr. Williams,
nor do I have an autograph to put into a scrapbook and preserve for posterity. Instead,
what I have are these memories, which came flooding to me as I read that most
awful of headlines. I suspect it was like this for a great many people – from the
person who honked his horn that day outside the store to the organizers of the
many charities that Mr. Williams lent his star power to and the extras who were
delighted just to be part of a Robin Williams film. And this says nothing about
the millions of people who grew up watching him in their homes and on the silver
screen, marveling as he, like themselves, matured and aged. Robin Williams
rewarded them for their devotion. Before their eyes, he blossomed into a first-rate
actor, displaying range that continues to astonish and impress. He brought joy
to so many with his comedies, and he broadened people’s views with his dramatic
work. He leaves behind a legacy of timeless work and a family that truly adored
him. His loss is indeed a monumental one.
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