I have been reading the Robin Williams tributes, kind of obsessively. I love the fact that so many communities claim him: the entertainment industry of course, but also bike riders, gamers, and those who suffer from depression. My favorite post came from my childhood friend, Becky, who still has the napkin with his autograph she got when she was twelve. Becky is one of those friends who knew me when.

Like when I discovered counter-culture. I was twelve, spending the night at her house, and we stayed up late to watch this dangerous new show, Saturday Night Live. I didn't really get it. The Coneheads stand out. But it was my first step away from a Happy Days view of the world. Robin Williams was on Happy Days. Remember, that's where Mork started. And then I watched him on Mork and Mindy, and then I bought a cassette of his stand up show, and my mind was blown. Right on over to the dark side--sex jokes and Shakespeare all rapid fire. Because you see he wasn't just dirty; he was clever; he was complex. He was funny. I liked him better than Bowie or Zappa. I liked him as much as my SNL tape. He helped me live in a more complex world.

There's no way I'm going to say I loved everything he ever did. Ditching a wife for the babysitter kind of pissed me off. And Mrs. Doubtfire didn't do anything for me, but Good Morning Vietnam, Dead Poets Society, Awakenings, and one of my favorite movies of all time, Good Will Hunting all have that combination of comedic brilliance overlaying sorrow with the unrelenting drive to keep fighting for what's right.

He was important to me because I was twelve, and he was important to me because he was brilliant.