the Oak Hill Jubilee

I truly hope the words that follow make sense. It's 11:30 and I'm tethered to the bedside charger, and this feels like a bigger idea than I can manage. --- What Robin Williams did for the world was sacred. He made us laugh in the midst of the tragedy around us. He stared darkness in the face and forced us all to see the joy that can be found there. He was a giver of life. This is why our immediate collective response was shock and near gut-wrenching sorrow. Anyone else like myself immediately moved to "real" tragedies, homelessness, marginalization of people, the killing of children in the name of religion... How is it that I could find more sorrow in the death of a celebrity than these other stunning sorrows. These things, especially the grossest extremes of killing and violence we are seeing internationally are mind numbing. They leave me speechless, and feeling helpless. I've not said anything, because it feels futile. It feels silly. What can I really do? No word can translate to the emotion that courses through my body. Then in the midst of all of this, we learn one of our favorite, most loved, most life giving, most complex entertainers is no longer in the world to help us find new joys. We can find words to express, sentiments to share. As stunning as it is, it is a tragedy we can, even if only a little bit, start to wrap our brains around. Of course it's sad. We lost a good one. We have no choice but to buffer this with the gross realization of the greater tragedies that abound. Likewise, We have no choice but to mourn the loss of one who offered not only laughs, but complex examinations the human condition. Because as we struggled to understand things like identity, cancer, death, growing up, and wishing wisely, Robin had something to say. He helped us to process the things we found along life's journey. He gave comfort. What he did was sacred. His voice will be missed. Robin, thanks for taking us on adventures and making us laugh. Thanks for dressing like old ladies, voicing genies, and making silly voices. Thanks for forcing us to examine how we react to our childhood dreams as adults. Thanks for Dead Poets and your Goodwill speech.