Like Me

I think I’m generally as affected by celebrity deaths as anyone else.  I feel a pang of grief, I listen to an album if it’s a musician or the equivalent of that for actors, directors, etc. out of respect, then I move on because life is for the living, but mostly because I don’t like feeling sad.  After Robin Williams died earlier this week the pang was just a little stronger and even after I watched an episode of Mork and Mindy I continued to think about Williams.

I thought some about Mrs. Doubtfire, Hook, Dead Poets Society, and Good Will Hunting, sure, but what I kept coming back to was an image of Williams lying on a trampoline with Carlos Mencia.  I don’t remember the context; I have no memory of why they were on that trampoline.  All I remember is that one of the two mentioned Williams’ incredible amount of body hair, which I had never noticed before.

Since Williams’ passing there’s been a lot of talk about depression.  I don’t know much about depression, but I know a bit about feeling alone.  Throughout my life a lot of things have made me feel alone, and one of them was the rapid growth of hair on my body when I was younger.  To give you an idea of how much hair and how young I was; I’m 22 and I have more memory of that Mind of Mencia sketch than my back skin does of the feel of cloth.  Robin Williams lying on that trampoline was the first time I became aware of someone successful and admired who was hairy.

Before this week I already had death on my mind, partially because I recently watched Dead Like Me for the first time since high school.  Dead Like Me is about a group of undead “reapers” who take people’s souls before they die then lead them into the next stage, whatever that is.  One of the many great things about the show is that in its world no one dies alone.  The main character is George Lass, a young loner who dies then finally finds a place where she belongs among her fellow reapers, Mandy Patinkin and Whitley from A Different World.  It’s two seasons of a big middle finger to the idea that everyone dies alone.

Unfortunately, Dead Like Me is nothing more than a very good TV show.  As far as I know Mandy Patinkin has never taken someone’s soul in his life.  My heart yes, but never souls.  I want Dead Like Me to be real, though.  I want it to be true enough that I won’t say Robin Williams died alone.  I don’t know if he did or didn’t.  I don’t know what the next stage is or if Robin Williams is alone there, either, but I don’t think so.  I know one thing, though, that there was once a strange and hairy boy sitting in front of a TV who wasn’t alone, and he wouldn’t have noticed if he was because he was too busy laughing.