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The day I met Robin Williams

Some celebrity deaths are easy to brush off, others hit you in a nostalgic place.

Robin Williams’ passing upset me more than most.

I’ve grown up watching him on the screen. From Mork to Popeye,¬†Adrian Cronauer to Professor Keating, and Mrs. Doubtfire to¬†Teddy Roosevelt. He was funny and transformative, clever and insightful. There was little about him that you couldn’t admire.

I met him once. I was one of several people at a roundtable interview in 2005. There were perhaps six reporters and him. He was friendly and gracious. He answered questions with a brilliant mixture of humor and humility. At times he got very serious, but mostly he blurted out cutting jokes that had us in tears. It was like getting a private show from one of the world’s most talented comedians.

He was like a tornado. Williams blew into the room, sent everyone swirling with laughter and tears, then turned and was gone. I never got a chance to shake his hand. I told him thank you, and he nodded at me. But I’ve never forgotten it.

The world has lost a unique talent.

Published inRamblings

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