A Tribute To Robin Williams


Friday is upon us once more. This is the day when we write about one or two things unrelated to guns and gear. Sometimes it’s our Top “n” List Where “n” Equals any Real or Imaginary Number, or Another True Story, but this week I’d like to dedicate our moment of frivolity to Robin Williams.

Like all of America, and indeed the world, I was flabbergasted by news of his suicide. I was unfamiliar with both his medical condition and personal struggles. As a San Franciscan, I had the opportunity to run into him, on Clement Street, on several occasions. I did not know him personally, but he always seemed pleasant not aloof as we exchanged smiles. In those days, I believe he had a home in Seacliff, but I couldn’t say with complete certainty.

My most memorable encounter with Robin Williams was on a Sunday evening while at Washington Square. I was a parishioner at St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s Church and on that day I was sitting on a park bench waiting for 6’o’clock Mass to roll around. As I waited, I saw Robin Williams walking towards me, dressed in a dark purple suit, accompanied by two thugs that looked like they were about to break out in a chorus of YMCA . I knew immediately, just by looking, this was no Jos. A. Bank, buy one get a dozen free dreck, modeled by a handful of idiots with delusions of grandeur. His threads were primo. Brother Robin was ragging uptown and styling! I thought about singing Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir but I was afraid Robin would break out into his Liberace repertoire. In addition to his Jewish jokes he had a sack full of gay routines that were amazing; never offensive, but always humorous. My ex-wife would sometimes see me sitting, laughing to myself, and she’d ask what I was laughing about? Sometimes it was something she had done; other times it was just me recalling something Robin Williams had done, or said, that I caught on TV the night before.

That was his contribution to my life; those lighthearted moments that by themselves are not necessarily inspirational but they made you feel good. I think that was his real gift to humanity, and his driving force. We will never know if his decision to leave this Earth was clinical or he simply looked around, saw so much suffering and pain in this world, and couldn’t deal with the reality that no matter how hard he tried to bring joy and laughter suffering could not be conquered.

With that, I extended my sincerest condolences to his family, along with my thanks for those moments of laughter that brought tears to my eyes, not from sorrow but from joy.

Rest In Peace Robin. Merci et bon voyage!

– Sal

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