I Remember Robin Williams

This morning I sadly–and happily–remember the great actor, Robin Williams. And I remember him personally because he played a part in my life, far away from the glitz of Hollywood television and movie studios.

 When I was a young man, growing up in New York City, I used to sit on the steep steps out in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, along with hundreds of Sunday strollers and tourists. There, slightly uncomfortable with my back wedged against the stiff stone of the steps, I would pass the time watching a young mime perform his smooth magic. At the end of his brief show, he would pass the hat and the people who had been watching his amazing work would eagerly support him with their quarters and dollars. The mime was always gracious, always appreciative, and he would go on to do many shows for the rest of the long afternoon. And then, the next Sunday, he would be back in the same spot.

 Robin Williams made people feel good about life, and about themselves; generations of people laughed and cried along with him. But before the big TV break, or the Academy Award, Robin Williams performed live and made people smile.

 That mime in front of the Metropolitan Museum, all those years ago, was Robin Williams. Good Night, Robin.