Rob Rothman liked to draw as a kid, especially superheroes.

But in high school, when actor Billy Crystal’s brother, Joel Crystal, taught him to paint, Rob fell in love with painting.

I sat in the living room of Rob Rothman, where I could see through his front window the spread of the Long Beach canals.

“I was into superheroes, creating comic books,” Rob said. But his art teacher, Mr. Crystal, urged Rob to expand his art from his beloved superheroes. 

“Mr Crystal opened my eyes to try new things, not to be too scared,” Rob said.

Many of us can relate to that feeling; we can be comfortable doing what we always did. See When Comfort is a Disability. Good teachers and role models help us to reach beyond our comfort levels.

“Mr. Crystal started me painting with acrylics, watercolor, and airbrushing.”

He recalled Mr Crystal’s dedication when he came to teach his students, even with a leg injury.

Rob demonstrated to me how a seated Mr. Crystal, with a weight on his leg, kept lifting it in a therapeutic regimen as he spoke to his class. Rob Rothman graduated Long Beach High, class of ’85, and here he was demonstrating those leg lifts to me on his Long Beach couch—some forty years later. 

Some things we do in life might seem minor and inconsequential, but we paint them into the minds of others, like these leg-lifting moments in a tiny classroom in a tiny city by the Sea.

Rob earns most of his living as a contractor at Rob Rothman Renovations 516 578 7856 .

He incorporates his art in his contracting business. 

But painting these days is his joy. It’s also his therapy.

Rob, like many of us, had a rough life. He lives alone now but has a daughter from a short relationship who lives in Texas. When Rob was seven, his dad died at twenty-five; his mom remarried and stayed with her new husband for about ten or twelve years, then divorced. “It was just me and my mom for many years,” he said. 

Rob lived in Suffolk County for about ten years; he went to Suffolk Community College’s Riverhead Campus for Design. It was a great school, he said, “with very experienced teachers.” 

His mom joined Rob in college; she took courses in alcohol and substance abuse counseling. “She fought alcoholism and beat it,” Rob said. “She went down a hard path in life; she wanted to use her experience in life to help others.” She joined him in many of his classes, “advertising, marketing, basic classes,” he said. He said she took many of them to be by his side. He was Rothman, she McDermott, her maiden name, so no one was the wiser most of the time.

His mom developed throat cancer and had a total larongectomy. Then, a brain aneurysm caused her never to get the opportunity to counsel those she so desperately wanted to help. Just before she was about to finish school, at age forty-nine, she died. But she was a fighter; Rob said, “I get a lot of my oomph from her.”

Rob first met a young lady, Linda, who would later become his fiancé when he was fifteen—she was eight years older than him. 

He only knew her through being friends with her brother, but Rob always liked her. At nineteen, he dated her for about a year. Then, he said, “I didn’t see her again for about ten or twelve years.’ About 2001, he said, “I got a call, and we were together for fifteen years.”

Those were happy years. I could see the light of joy in Rob’s eyes as he spoke, “I like to bring a smile to people’s faces if I can do it within, or sometimes, even outside of my means.” In summer, he bought air conditioners for people in need; in winter he shoveled snow by hand for others at no cost. He said, “I like to help people to make the world a better place for everybody else. That’s one of my goals in life.”

Yes, Rob is a giving soul, and sometimes, giving comes back to givers. 

After Sandy, Rob picked up debris of our destroyed boardwalk. He announced on Facebook that he would ship small pieces of boardwalk planks to anyone who wanted one—for only the shipping cost. But he was surprised when hundreds of people requested them, from California to New York, across our north and south, Europe: Germany, and the UK.

One young lady asked if Rob could paint her family onto one of the rough boards, and he did. When he posted the painted board on Facebook, he said, “It went nuts.” He painted and sold over four hundred boardwalk pieces.

He painted this one for himself:

Rob is also a filmmaker and a documentarian. Over seven years, he created a full-length film documentary of Long Beach. Rob dug deep into our city’s history and produced, filmed, and did the voice-over in the documentary. Rob said, “Linda was extremely supportive.”

But in 2015, suddenly and unexpectedly, Linda died.

Rob finished the film the following year. He has shown it at various venues in Long Beach. Rob will release it for purchase in the future. Here’s a clip from Our City by the Sea, Long Beach, NY.

In the years since Linda’s death, Rob dated. He even had a relationship, but he said, “It’s tough when they are far away; it’s tough to travel to the city every day to see somebody; it’s very difficult. You have your business, your career,”

Rob spoke of a “special connection” needed in a relationship, the connection he had with his fiancé. He said, “It was like one of those things I prayed for my whole life.” 

Cesare Pavese ”Life is pain and the enjoyment of love is an anesthetic.”

Now, he says, I’m a man of simple means shooting for the skies.” He said, “In the past, I wasn’t really painting like I am now.” He said, “This is my release. When I dive into my painting, everything is about the painting. I’m not thinking about anything but the painting. It’s been my therapy.” 

Rob painted a tribute to the ten-year-old son of Gregg and Monique LaPenna, who died of a heart attack at a Little League baseball game. Rob’s tribute to Lazar LaPenna.

Rob speaks of his mom as “going down a rough path in life,” but he also saw her ultimately choose a brighter path. No, she didn’t graduate to help others, but others did witness her new, brave journey, so she taught.

The early death of his dad, mom too, and fiancé as well can crush a life. But Rob didn’t succumb to solace in a bottle and bong. He’s “shooting for the skies.”

Superheroes have extraordinary or superhuman powers: flight, strength, speed, or invincibility. We don’t have those here.

But we often don’t notice these “routine” human feats of our fellow life-trekkers: Doing their job with diligence, beating substance abuse, and prevailing against so many reasons to surrender. But I think Rob, his mom, Mr Crystal—and so many like them—have painted well on life’s canvas. And from those human, not superhuman feats, we can learn. They are us.

Be well,

Leebythesea