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Building a New and Stupid World - Phone Line No access to instruments of any…
A friend who is powerful. This is a terrific poem. Singing a capella; putting it all out there makes me smile.
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Known as 
(ka-ran-nis) or " The Happy Maker" in Greece, my ancestors produced some of the finer spirits (okay, they had a traveling distillery) on the Island of Lemnos, located in the beautiful Aegean sea.
The stuff was so good that when my great-great-great-…(way back)…….grandfather would come to town, the villagers would say: "here comes the happy-maker!"
So he changed his name to (ka-ran-nis) meaning happy-maker.
When my Grandfather came over from Greece to the USA he changed his name from to James Charanis and I was named after him. Here is the house where he was born:
I have not forgotten that tradition of keeping my customers happy.
Years of experience working with corporate clients of all types has taught me how to help my customers find solutions to their information management problems.
Here is another article of someone who traced their roots back to this lovely island
Pictures and info on the town: Lemnos Villages
I wish I could write what I’m feeling right now. Previous related posts: what keeps you up at night Or better yet:  the ground is dark..  Lets just say my passion and my patience at “work” are at odds right now.
Swift Sweet Rush by Jim Charanis
Took a bunch at Maia’s recital but this one of her and her friend running across the bridge in euphoric enthusiasm before the performance was candid. Funny how things work out - life is what happens when you are making plans.
Our friend and Neighbor Jeffrey Stepakoff has been writing over the past few years while hiding out in our quite southern neighborhood. Well not too quiet - we all have kids as do he and Elizabeth. I’d been wondering what he was up to after his successful career of TV writing in L.A. Someone with his talent cannot stop writing for long. Enjoy:
Barnes & Noble.com - Books: Billion-Dollar Kiss, by Jeffrey Stepakoff, Hardcover
NO logs in the blog for running these days. I stew in my own self-pity and just can’t seem to get my ass out there. Yes, right now I’m feeling sorry for myself. Not really though – just being dramatic.
I just finished Once A Runner by John L Parker. It was written in 1978 when I was 13 and interestingly enough, I began running seriously the following year in 9th grade. Not that I had read it, I only heard about it in the past year. Which tells you something about me. I’m a runner but not really. I had a glimpse, a flash, a chance and some moderate success in High School (5′07 mile; 5K in the 16 min range). But there were other guys that were just unbelievable. And those guys were in this book (well, not really - I mean figuratively, you get the drift). I remember them; they were not serious in the least. They were not gregarious or gigantic in stature or personality. But they were different. They were methodical in their approach to running, working and life. They plodded along, never missing a practice – running every day. Getting up in the morning before school – not loving it but just doing it. And they were fast. Yes – Fast Distance Runners, and they amazed me. There was a guy named Palomino or something and anther named Nits. They were not cool; but they were cool – I still don’t know how to describe it. But John Parker does.
In 9th grade I was the worst runner on the team. Me and another guy named Kenny. He was a quiet but patient little guy, I was small too, teased and had a chip on my shoulder. Guys like me made it with heart but we can only go so far. Guys like Kenny became Ken and Ken became one of the best cross country runners Maryland has ever produced. Guys like me led our teams but found other things to do in College and life. I never understood them until I read this book. I sometimes wonder if I had had one coach all through high school – especially one like Katsenburg or Lauer motivating me and teaching me if it would have continued through college. Those were heady times (I don’t know what that means but I wanted to write it).
I hope I get up tomorrow and run.
This is a bit personal, but sometimes I write from the heart so others won’t keep their hearts closed. My lovely daughter Sophie (6) wrote me a note today on the computer.
I love you Daddy! (in very large type)
Daddy I love the computer so much.
I love it when you help me on the computer.
Daddy I love you when you read to me.
I love you when you go to a new place.
Daddy I love you when it is time for scool.
Daddy I Love you! (in very largetype)
It was a little thing but a big one for her. She has broken through another wall, she was nervous about using the computer and still struggles. It is hard. Sometimes she digs deep and cries. It frustrates her and she gets so angry. Like it is something she cannot control, something she can’t stop or something she can’t get back. She feels deeply that one. Its how I know she is a part of me. Love your daughters; don’t hold back. Keeping away won’t make them stronger. No, it can’t wait – go to them before you do not remember, go to them when they need you. I wrote this back to her:
I love you too Sophie
Sophie, I love you when we talk
Sophie, I love you when we walk
Sophie, I love you when you dance
Sophie, I love you when you cry
Sophie, we aren’t always happy, but we aren’t always sad
In a dream, daddy and daughter, you and me
Walking together by the water
You look at me and ask me to help
You say “I can’t do it all by myselfâ€
So together we kneel in the sand
We pick up a pile with our hands
The walls are curved the towers tall
But when the water comes they start to fall
You ask me why the castle breaks
I say some things last, but some God takes
But my love for you will always be
You can always ask help from me
This is an image of my professional and financial life right now.
At Retail Delivery this week I saw old friends, old contacts, felt old memories. People who had taken risks and were now very wealthy, starting the next company. People who make the consistent cash and were moving forward, continuing to do so.
In my life, I see the blue sky but the ground before me is unclear like these foothills at dusk in Arizona. Do I take the path and work through it? My hair is grey and falling out. My weight is gaining and my knee is hurting again. I’m struggling right now:
Trial and task, move ahead, move through it, move to it.
Okay, I’m 41 now. The next ten years are to be my best. What can I do? I have been working for 20 and now I have 20 more to go. I’m not where I thought I would be but I still can get there.
The ground is dark,
the sky is blue,
the choice is there,
what will I do?
Perhaps I have breathed a word about my loss too much… if this is the next step towards my next chance of pitch-and-toss…
Found:
Sorry to those of you who find this morbid. Its my blog, I’ll write what I want. Many thanks to Gil and Shmoo for finding her. Rest in peace Rags, I hope you are playing with Scooter.
Not to long ago we thought he was going. Then after a while at the Vet he came back. Last week was hard - he was slow and sad and just not happy. This weekend we lost him, Dr. Buckley said it was his time, no suffering just sleep. I’ve already said my words here
in my poem tribute to an old dog…
So our first boy Scooter has gone. 14 years and so sweet. Always wanting to please us, always wanting to have fun. Always up for a walk or a hug a snif or a howel. This family will miss him.
Jim
