Robin Williams

It was, in my mind, a late summer night 36 years ago- so either I remember wrong or first saw it as a repeat, as IMDB claims it first aired at the end of February.  The Fonz had held off an alien invasion by the power of an upraised thumb.  I was so excited, I ran next door to tell my dad, who also usually watched Happy Days, about it.  I was 16.  Sheltered life, eh?

36 years later, I am sitting at my computer when I get a text from a friend saying, Robin Williams committed suicide.  I could only think to reply, "Shazbot!"

I looked up and down his movie list.  Do you know, I think I have only seen Jack and Jumanji all the way through? (Though I did see his parts as Teddy Roosevelt in the first Museum movie.)  But I faithfully watched Mork and Mindy, and had a poster of him on my bedroom wall.

Yup, that one.  Right next to Barry Manilow, with a magazine pin up of pre-slutty Olivia Newton-John to one side. (that, however is neither MY poster or my wall.)  That was a fun show, an innocent show, until the writers ran out of ideas, got him and Mindy married, him pregnant, and the shark was jumped.

But then they brought in Johnathan Winters, and for a brief shining moment, you got to watch two talents that needed no writers.  I was hoping I could find a YouTube clip, but it would have to be a whole episode.  (Clips of Mork and Exitor you can get, but not JW.  Sigh...)  Trust me, it was a much better "late-season acquisition" than Ted McGinley, who managed to go down with Happy Days AND Married With Children.

I was going to put up a picture of ted, but didn't want to get my blog cancelled.  Here's a fuzzy bunny instead.

In seriousness for a moment,  I have only been depressed to the point of considering suicide once, and if I had done it, I think God would have kicked me straight to hell for the flat stupid excuse I had.  I know that, whatever else, the demands on Robin's time, thoughts, his very soul, were far greater than any I ever had.  A Facebook poster mentioned how hard it must have been to be someone on meds for depression, under demands to always be happy, upbeat, funny.  Making others laugh laughs he wasn't sharing- and feeling sorrows he couldn't share.  All the time, giving of himself, to charities, causes, and friends.  He will be missed.

But listen, I can't see the man wanting to go out on a sad note, so I will give you one good thought to play with as we say goodbye-  wouldn't you have LOVED to see him do a routine with Richard Deacon as Mel Cooley on the old Dick Van Dyke Show?

Just for one skit, photoshop him in?