O Captain, My Captain...

I'm stunned.

Typically celebrity deaths don't faze me a whole lot.  Stars burn bright, and then they fade away.  There are some who shine so bright they burn themselves out, and while it is a tragedy, it is not altogether shocking.

So when I got confirmation that Robin Williams had, in fact, passed away today, I was blown away.

Robin Williams had been an example of overcoming your demons.  He had been to rehab multiple times, and his self-awareness and responsibility of taking care of his problems was inspiring, in many ways.  It gave me hope that if this guy got it, then more people would get it.  If one of the best and brightest of us all was human, and could recognize it in himself and seek the help he needed, then the rest of us could, too.

But this...  This was a surprising one.

I have always known of Robin Williams, I think, as I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't.  Like most of the rest of the world, it started with Mork and Mindy and just grew from there.  His comedy was genius, and flashing forward to his appearance on Inside the Actor's Studio I could see that it all came to him naturally.  The drugs weren't what created his art, if anything the drugs slowed him down and allowed his body to keep up with his brain. 

You see, we all have a million ideas floating around us at all times -- just out there, in the ether.  The more brilliant ones are able to catch and hold onto a few.  The truly gifted could spot and catch more.  But watching Robin Williams perform, it became evident that he saw them all...  And he caught every last one of them.

As his career went on he regained control of himself, and learned to channel it all into more powerful ideas -- and more powerful performances.  The fact that he didn't win the Oscar for Dead Poets Society was a sting that lasted until Good WillHunting, when the Academy finally realized that they couldn't ignore him any longer.  He was simply too smart, too funny, too strong, too poignant...  simply too good to ignore, and when he won, the rest of the world's reaction was a nonplussed mixture of "Duh," and "It's about fucking time."

I never knew him personally, so I can't comment too much on his life out of the spotlight.  I've heard stories from friends, and friends of friends who had run into him on the streets of New York or had met him somewhere or other, that he was genuinely kind, polite, and appreciative of his fame.  He worked, and worked hard at what he did...  But thinking about it now, it seems that he had to work hard, lest he fall victim to his own brilliant insanity.  As Charles Baudelaire said, "Genius is nothing more, nor less, than childhood recaptured at will."

And that was Robin Williams.

A man who could play and dance and sing and show and live so powerfully, yet so childlike, WAS genius...

But all genius comes at a price.

I've never heard or even thought about Walt Whitman without thinking of Robin Williams, and now I know I never will.  Sure, he didn't write the script, but those words were his.  In that moment, every single person watching was a student, his student, and we were all enriched by his lessons. 

It's almost funny that I so recently wrote of The Wonder Years, and just yesterday watched the episode "Good-Bye" in which we see the powerful student-teacher relationship between Kevin and his math teacher, Mr. Collins.  I'd have to check the dates, but I'm fairly certain that that episode was produced riding the coattails of Dead Poets Society, but ended with the teacher's death.

And here we are today.

We have lost a great and powerful force in this world with the passing of Robin Williams.  He was a force for good.  After all, the laughter he generated never came at anybody's expense but his own.  He wasn't mean or cruel in his jokes - sure, he pointed out the foibles of the world around him, but he saw his own faults as well.  He was as quick to laugh - at himself as he was at others, and he was so quick with it that he could run circles around anybody in the room, or audience, or wherever.

And so he will live on through all of us.  For every life he touched, for every laugh he generated, for every pause he gave us, he will forever be remembered.  We are lucky to have shared in his genius and insanity.  But like so many other people, for me, I will always remember the inspiration.

It is with tears in my eyes, that I close this post with what is now particularly poignant:

O Captain!  My Captain!  Our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But o heart!  Heart!  Heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

Rest now, my teacher.  Your lesson is well imparted.