What Will Your Verse Be?

Social media is tailor-made to magnify and dissect celebrity death. The why, how, where, and when of public figures' passings seem to fascinate and preoccupy an adoring fandom, sometimes to the exclusion of their living accomplishments. Think Amelia Earhart, Buddy Holly, John Kennedy, Roberto Clemente, Princess Diana. Death has a blurring effect on life.

But not in the case of Robin Williams.

The comedian's recent death - and the upsetting circumstances surrounding it - will not blur or obscure the body of work he left for us to enjoy. To us he will always be Mork or Adrian Kronauer or Mr. Keating or Genie or Sean Maguire or Patch Adams or Mrs. Doubtfire. He will not be remembered as that stand-up comic who committed suicide. Never. Yes, those who personally knew Robin Williams are feeling and grieving his loss. But our grief (if it can even be called that) is of a different nature, more circumspect and searching. More often than not, we are wondering generally how someone so supremely talented and beloved would take his own life? Doesn't happiness naturally flow from such talent, adulation, and fame?

Obviously, the answer is no.

 I am not qualified to speak about the circumstances of Robin Williams' death, though many people have been playing amateur psychologist over the past week. So I won't. One more opining blogger simply layers more static onto the background noise of social media. A post-mortem psychological autopsy of the man should not be for public consumption. Yes, in a sense Robin Williams belonged to all of us, but even a public figure as large as he was is entitled to privacy, especially in death.

I do hope one thing was true for Robin Williams during his life. I hope that making us happy also made him happy. That he was literally compelled to be funny is irrefutable. That it brought him as much joy as he gave is uncertain.

Still, what a wonderful legacy he gave to the world. Yes, our thoughts of him are currently clouded, smiles mingled with sympathy. But that will pass, and quickly. Instead, as we re-acquaint ourselves with his obvious genius, we will be reminded that Robin Williams was/is that rare person who universally brought happiness to everyone he knew and the millions of fans he never knew - without exception.

My favorite poem is Walt Whitman's, O Me! O Life! The words and sentiments are dark - a searching for the meaning and purpose of life amid the struggle, self-doubt, and aimless wandering that existence sometimes includes. But in a twist that can only be described as beautiful, Whitman posits the answer to his own inquiry,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Robin Williams eloquently recited these words in a wonderful scene in Dead Poets' Society (link). He implored his students to search for their passion and place in the world and move fearlessly towards them - clearly something this Mozart of comedy understood, compulsion or not. Sadly for us he's gone now - his "powerful play" is over - but Robin Williams contributed one hell of a verse.