Gerald, as always, bounded into the back room and said, “Holy
Shit, I’m pretty sure Steven Spielberg is out front!”
It was Boston, we were
in a relatively swanky shopping mall, but there was no reason for an Academy
Award winner to be out on my sales floor. Still, perhaps out of curiosity,
perhaps out of boredom, I set down my sandwich and walked out front with my
beaming sales associate.
“There, there,” the usually far-too-cool seventeen year old
blabbered as he pointed in the man’s direction.
I approached the heavyset man wearing a tan knit sweater. As
I greeted him, he turned to me and, for a second, I could see why Gerald had
been mistaken. The man who faced me had a graying lumberjack beard and soft,
gentle eyes. He was not an Oscar winner. Not yet anyhow.
There really wasn’t a protocol on how to handle celebrity
customers. Clearly, there were things not
to do – no autographs (an archaic form of commemoration in the days before
selfies), but no need to pretend not to know the person either.
I asked if I could help a man who was somehow made more serious
by his facial hair.
“How about these?” he asked. “Any good?”
I answered that, yes, the shoes he’d selected were fine and,
I believe, asked to measure his feet.
Returning moments later with a few pairs of shoes, I sat
down in front of him on a stool and began unpacking the first pair of shoes. “In
town for business or pleasure?” I asked.
“I’m here for work,” he answered.
“You used to work in my hometown as well,” I stated. When he
arched his eyebrows, I mentioned that I had, only three months before, moved
from Boulder, Colorado.
“Boulder,” he said with a broad smile. “I haven’t been there
in years.”
“It hasn’t changed,” I answered as I laced up his right
shoe. Of course, Boulder had very much changed, but the ‘Mork and Mindy house’ and
even Rocky Mountain Records and Tapes were still there, just like in the
opening credits of the show that made this man a star.
“I just moved here myself,” I continued as a laced up the
other shoe. Another customer came in and sat down on the same bench. This
forced Gerald back into the picture as my younger associate greeted and began
helping this woman of about forty-five.
Undeterred, my customer asked what had brought me to Boston,
and I answered that I’d come to attend school. I’m relatively sure I mentioned
that it was Harvard, I’m absolutely positive that I left out that it was night
classes.
“These will be fine,” he said softly he stood up and smiled.
“In fact, I’ll wear them.”
I pulled a few tags from the new Nike trail shoes and boxed
up his old shoes as well. We said very little out of the ordinary at the
counter – just some small talk that somehow failed to bury itself as deeply as
these other memories have. As I returned the man’s change, I came out from
behind the counter and handed him his shopping bag.
“It was really nice to meet you. You should get back to
Boulder sometime.”
He smiled and shook my hand with his massive paw. “Good luck
with school.”
“Good luck with your work as well.”
As I watched him leave my store another customer called for
my attention. I sat this customer next to the older woman. Just then, the woman’s
son came running into the store.
“Mom, mom, Robin Williams is shopping in the mall!”
Gerald and I smiled before being interrupted by something
unexpected.
“He is?” the woman asked excitedly. “Where did you see him?
Where was he shopping? I’m almost finished here.”
Was he so great a chameleon?
Were “we” so sure of how he must have acted when not on stage?
In any event, the gentle, bearded man had gone completely undetected.
That woman may still not know that she spent no less than fifteen minutes
sitting shoulder to shoulder with an actor she clearly admired.
One year later, I was home – back in Colorado. Harvard didn’t
take. I’d seen Robin Williams in the movie he’d been in Boston to shoot. I
remember seeing the last show one night with a coworker. I remember attending
the first show alone the next morning as well. Sitting there the second time,
I allowed Good Will Hunting to truly affect me. It may still be one of my most
vivid experiences at the movies. It is worth noting that the Academy of Motion
Pictures also noticed Mr. Williams’ performance. I remember feeling joy when he
won the award for a movie which had so shaken me. Good Will Hunting is a good film. Still, how much of its
impact is down to my having been a terrified kid in that same city at the time that
it was being made? I’m not sure. This story isn’t about that. This story isn’t
even about saying goodbye. I’m grateful to say that I have a clear memory of
saying goodbye to Robin Williams. A smile and that enveloping handshake…
I’m glad I got to experience the star. I’m even more
grateful that I got to spend an afternoon with the man.
Farewell, Captain. Rest in Peace.
