Robin Williams
August 14th, 2014
In
the aftermath of Robin Williams’ death, most headlines and news stories have
started with “Robin’s inner pain,” and “Robin’s battle with depression.”
Who’s
this “Robin”?
I’m
vaguely familiar with T.S. Garp (The World According to Garp) and
John Keating (The Dead Poets Society), a couple of memorable
characters that Mr. Williams played and a little familiar with the standup
comedy of Robin Williams, but ALL of these were personas, or masks that he wore
for public consumption.
I
never knew this “Robin.”
Was
his suicide tragic?
I
can’t say. I never knew Mr. Williams.
Ernest
Hemingway killed himself in 1962, reportedly to avoid a painful and protracted
demise via advanced cancer. If that’s true, was Hemingway’s suicide “tragic”?
From
my own perspective, if those reports are true I’d say no.
To
me, it seems he made a rational, reasonable decision, accepting that the person
he’d been his entire life was already gone. BUT again, I didn’t truly KNOW
either of these guys. I read the books of one and am familiar with some of the
characters portrayed by the other...nothing more.
I
did know John Garcia. He worked in a neighboring firehouse in the South Bronx
for many years.
John
was a Lieutenant working in Engine 24 in lower Manhattan, when he led firefighters
Robert “Bobby” Beddia and Joe Graffagnino in the Deutsche Bank fire in August
of 2007.
The
Deutsche Bank Building had been heavily damaged in the September 11th attacks
in 2001 after being blasted by an avalanche of debris, ash, dust, and asbestos
that spread from the collapse of the South Tower. In fact, the collapse of 2
World Trade Center during the September 11th attacks tore
a 24-story gash into the facade of the Deutsche Bank Building. Steel and
concrete were sticking out of the building for months afterward. This was
eventually cleaned up, but due to extensive contamination it was decided that
the 39 story ruin was to be taken down. After the 9/11 attacks, netting was
placed around the remains of the building. The bank maintained that the
building could not be restored to habitable condition, while its insurers
sought to treat the incident as recoverable damage rather than a total
loss. Work on the building was deferred for over two years during which
the condition of the building deteriorated.
The
three became separated in the pitch black just after the FDNY finally got water
into the building despite a severed standpipe system inside that building.
Engine 24 was on the 14th floor in blinding smoke and intense heat, but with no
visible fire at which to direct the nozzle. In keeping with standard practice,
the lieutenant working with Engine 24 ventured away from the line to search for
the fire and direct where the water should go.
From
that point their situation grew much worse. In the maze-like conditions, the
members of Engine 24 were unable to reconnect. Lt. John Garcia, fell through
the plastic sheeting that had replaced the building’s windows and, like dozens
of other firefighters that day, onto the scaffolding some 6’ to 8’ below. Had
it not been for that scaffolding, August 18th would’ve
certainly been the 2nd deadliest day for the FDNY after
September 11th.
Firefighters
Beddia and Graffagnino both died inside that building after running out of air.
There’s
always “survivor’s guilt” that accompanies any fatal fire and for an Officer
that is typically much worse. Garcia, retired in 2009 after being diagnosed
with PTSD and often blamed himself for the deaths of Robert Beddia and Joe
Graffagnino.
At
trial the wealthy bankers seeking to defend a dishonorable bank from the
indefensible (the Deutsche Bank Building was supposed to have been already torn
down, but for wrangling with insurers over fiscal matters) and craven city
officials and cowardly FDNY “Higher Ups” sought to deflect scrutiny away from
their own incompetence and poor decisions by throwing a lowly “line officer”
under the bus. After continually being badgered and harangued by both Deutsche
bank and City attorneys over the two deaths, John Garcia was finally driven to
suicide on May 13th, 2011. In that way a good and honorable and
innocent man was driven to suicide by those looking to desperately deflect the
rightful blame that belonged to themselves.
I
knew John Garcia, from our days in the Bronx. I lament his death and remain
diminished by it.
I
DO NOT feel the same way, nor even close about the death of Mr. Robin Williams.
His death may be regrettable, or it may have been a reasonable, rational decision
like Mr. Ernest Hemingway’s...I can’t know which from this distance and it’s
not for me to know.
I
do know that suicide tends to afflict the most advanced countries, especially
among the most affluent and well-educated...the people with the most leisure
time and the greatest propensity for existential naval gazing.
I’m
certain early hunting and gathering man didn’t do much naval gazing...too busy
expending all their energies trying to survive. The same seems true today for
people who live in crisis, either in war torn regions were the next time you
turn a corner might be your last act on earth, or those in grinding, oppressive
poverty that makes mere survival a full time endeavor.
That’s
not to say that our Western obsession with naval gazing (“Why am I here,”
“What’s the meaning of life,” and “Why do I feel so empty”) isn’t rooted in
reality. It IS! It’s very much rooted in our modern reality, such as it is.
Nearly
everyone who’s worked in any emergency service in “busy” (high crime, high
fire) areas, has had their close calls. I can think of a few off hand – getting
caught in a collapse on 169th Street and Walton Avenue in May
of 1990, getting lost in a fire at the Fordham Hill Oval in 1988 and having my
car totaled after it was hit by a tractor-trailer in 1990.
In
every one of those instances, there was a moment when the ONLY thought that
completely dominated my mind was, “I’m gonna die right here...right now.”
There
was a peace that came over me in every incident. Not that I was going to “go
easy,” that’s not my way...never has been, but there was an overwhelming peace
that washed over me...no life flashing before my eyes, none of that, but a calm
peace...definitely.
I
laughed after every one of those incidents. I laughed hard over “dodging a bullet,”
or “getting away with it”...or “cheating death,” at least for now. I slept easy
too and have slept easy in all the nights since.
I
never shared any of those experiences with john Garcia, never spoke about such
things either. I’m sure he’d had his own close calls, his own near calamities.
So there’s never a need to talk about such things.
I
also know that different people can interpret and react to similar, even the
same event in vastly different ways. Some, like me, walk away with a deep and
abiding gratitude and the ability to savor the sweetness of the next breath
even more, while some seem shocked to regard the arbitrary randomness of life.
There’s
no “wrong” answer…no right or wrong way to process such things. Myself, I’d
already long ago considered the arbitrary randomness that is such a large part
of life, but that, to me, is best exemplified by the car killed by a falling
tree on a highway on his way home from work, or the 6 y/o killed by a tree
falling through his roof at 3 am. As emergency workers we put ourselves into
such scenarios, at least we’ve taken a job that makes us prone to being
involved in such things much more likely and so my own survival has brought me
only a sense of profound gratitude.
Which
brings me back to why I am so uncomfortable with all this familiarity with
people we don’t know. I don’t know this “Robin,” only T.S. Garp and John
Keating. His death seems like it SHOULD BE a private, personal matter.
If
he chose an early exit the way Hemingway allegedly did, more power to him.
If
he succumbed to a clinical depression, WHY is that any of our business? It
certainly WAS the business of those close to him...but me? I didn’t know this
“Robin.”