A few years ago, I was sitting down to a Chinese buffet in
and a complete stranger came up to me.
She was an older woman, late middle age, and she felt compelled
to tell me how much I resembled Robin Williams.
It wasn’t the sort of compliment I generally get, though I guess there
is a vague resemblance (more people say I look like John Belushi; again,
I don’t quite see it, myself). It is by
a strange coincidence that years later I would find myself attending the same
church with that perfect stranger who thought I looked like Mr. Williams.
Everyone is posting all over the place about the loss of this comedic genius and all around nice guy. It is a sad thing indeed, and not so uncommon, for the most beloved and friendly of celebrities to be haunted inside. I’ll always remember Robin Williams as the star in some of my favorite movies growing up. I recall my parents laughing away to Good Morning,
even when I was too young to really appreciate it. I’ll remember classics like Hook and Mrs.
Doubtfire as moments of joviality and escape during my tumultuous childhood. I remain haunted by such underrated sci-fi
classics as The Bicentennial Man and The Final Cut. He was truly an actor with depth, as well as
Farewell, Robin. Perhaps you now know What Dreams May Come?