September 1, 2014, Prescott- I read a rather inane discussion, a night or so ago, as to how to deal with an unruly child.  The writer was venting his frustration with parents who don’t teach their children respect for others, from an early age.  One person. also a friend of mine, came on with a Jonathan Swift-style “modest proposal”.  Knowing this individual, it was completely satirical and sarcastic.  Another individual advocated extreme physical punishment- of the child, as he “detests children”.  Most likely, that individual had the childhood from Hell.  I didn’t.  In fact, despite my autism and tendency to wander, my family life was supportive, joyful and stable.

As our expectations rise, and our fears do not subside, there is a tendency to show intolerance of anyone who’s different- by age group, ability level, economic status, sexual orientation, marital status, race, gender- one here gets off scot-free  Each of us bothers someone else and each of us is bothered, in like manner.  The speed with which we live our lives, leaves no room for discomfort or adjustment.  So, who has the issue?

I have to own my issues.  I have made my family and friends cringe, when I have owned up to a serious mistake or foible.  My reasoning has been, this is the only way to atone, or to rectify the error.  Usually, that has left me vindicated in the long run, though it has made for short-term discomfort, especially financial.  People are very intolerant of anything that costs them money.

I am no longer intolerant of others, by and large.  I will not brook abuse of those weaker than the person who is striking out, especially if it is physical or sexual abuse. There are basic standards of decency. Differences which rankle, though, are presented to us by the Universe because to each of us is given the task of becoming more clearly, part of an organic whole. In my case, the answer has, so far, been patience.  Most of those who have annoyed me,  or who have attacked my views, both passively and aggressively, have come back around, so long as I don’t indulge in a counterattack. Maybe, that’s the bottom  line.

NOTE:  I will continue with my posts on Europe, later this evening.  In light of today’s tragic loss, however, these words need to be said.

When I was ten years old, I asked a neighbour if I could borrow her copy of “Look Magazine”.  It had a feature on Red Skelton, then a very popular television comedian.  Mr. Skelton had a host of personas, which he trotted out, week by week, to help others feel happier.  I liked many of them, and often sat up past nine, to catch his latest performances.

The article dealt with his struggles-alcoholism and depression.  It worried the heck out of me, and was a bit confusing to my ten-year-old mind.  How could a man who was so excellent at entertaining others be so downtrodden, in his own life? My Dad’s answer was very clear:  “This is Red’s job.  Actors often have a hard time, when they go home and have to deal with the same messes and dilemmas we each have to face.”  I lit  a candle for Red Skelton, the next time I went to church.  He lived a fair number of years afterward, so maybe the outpouring of well wishes from many of us, after that article, had a positive effect.

Humour and sadness; light and shadow; front and back- the traditional theatrical memes of European theater show a laughing face and a sorrowful face.  We each get to go through plenty of both.  For most of us, though, there is a lifeline:  Faith; friendships; life partners.  Those who, as the departed Robin Williams expressed it “Have people who make you feel alone”, are so often at far more risk than the busy beavers who surround them seem to realize.

So, we are left to pick up the pieces of our shattered mirth.  Mr. Williams’ wife, daughter and extended family will, one would hope, have time to grieve, to process and to know that, underneath all the pain, which itself was buried under the humour, there was the most intense love for humanity- ever struggling to get out and to find its way to the surface.

In his work, I saw that of Robin Williams, in his “Patch Adams”, “Good Will Hunting”,  “Mrs. Doubtfire”, “Dead Poets Society”- even in his minor works, like “Hook” and “One Hour Photo”.  Love for mankind, however quirkily or obliquely presented, was the man’s cornerstone.  This is what one ought recall and remember.

For us who have another day, another year, another fighting chance- perhaps, just perhaps, there will be an outstretched hand to someone who is known to be struggling, someone who feels alone in the crowd.  Maybe then, the tears shed by many of us this day will meet with fertile ground.  Rest in Peace, Robin.  You were a better friend to many of us than most realized, before today.