When I got the news yesterday–Robin Williams killed himself–I first thought of that crazy Mrs. Doubtfire. After all, I grew up with her and in that role he made me laugh like none other. Then my thoughts moved to his family–a funeral being hastily put together–and a bright light snuffed out.
And then, randomly, I thought of the moment in my life when I was most scared. And I promise it has a point.
It was two years ago, and I was on my honeymoon. I was harnessed up tightly, gripping a climbing rope, dangling just above twenty feet up against a red rock face in Utah. My hands were clenched so tightly that the rope dug into my palms, and I trembled so much that I literally could not get my feet to move.
I’m deathly afraid of heights. The tour guide, one of his kids, and even…