James Shore’s children called him “Papa.”
One of the wonderful things I get to do, having been James’ close friend and business partner, is to surf all of his machines at work. This is a difficult, though necessary, thing to do. For one, I shouldn’t have to. James should still be alive and with us today, but for James Arthur Ray’s negligence. For another thing, it feels as if I am invading James’ personal space… which I am. But his widow works to assemble to the best of her ability his estate. And his children still need to be fed and clothed. So I do this in loving memory of my brother and for the sake of his young family which now finds itself without their Papa.
While I scour James’ machines and thumb-drives and “outboard” drives for tax returns, bank statements, mortgage statements, and all manner of account information… as I check each and every file for information relating to this or that, as necessary for the assemblage of his estate, I invariably encounter James.
Family photos – he has tons of them. And this in no way surprises me. I cannot look at them for long. Because I know I am looking at the happy times. The children, I, A, and D, are all smiles – as they were when Papa was still in their midst. He was a doting father. And, not surprisingly, Papa is missing from most of the photos – he, being behind the camera, prompting smiles.
Videos – in particular of the children singing Christmas carols for Alyssa, wife and mother. The children captured with missing teeth and barefoot in their warm and cozy family room. And James quietly conducting behind the camera.
Emails – lots of emails. Up and beyond the date of his death. SPAM does never really stop. Some I have to forward to Alyssa and cc myself – from James’ accounts. And when I find them in my own email inbox, I am still shocked to see his name on my screen. Worst though was yesterday’s email from James Arthur Ray. Crass. Awful.
Writings – James and I were finishing a book on Interactive Marketing. We were damn close after a solid year. Had written the introduction and everything. Remnants remain strewn across his files.
Dreams – James and I had no fewer than 10 projects we envisioned building together. Most pertaining to web portals and new interactive products. But also I have found images of homes in Boulder and info on acreage in Panama… these the dreams of where James envisioned himself and his family in the years to come. But James also had several projects he was pursuing on behalf of his friends. From alternative health websites to medicinal marijuana sites – he envisioned using our little company to advance other people’s dreams too.
Where is Papa, James Arthur Ray? Where is father? Who will take the pictures this year and catalog them? Who will take the kids to the movies? Who will teach and comfort and love? Who will leave sweet nothings around the house for Alyssa to find?
Where is Papa?
James sounds like such a cool dude.
Why’d he hang around you? Pppp.
You bag on Obama. You bag on the Pope. You’d shit on Santa Claus if he voted for Obama.
James Arthur Ray deserves burning spears of spite in his ass. Get with it already and call this man out, Eno. Where’s your inner Celine?
Here’s your weekend writing assignment: 12 tortured endings to James Arthur Ray, a fictionalized collage of horror and agony. Bullwhips, blood pumps, handcuffs and space heaters, let it all out.
part of the reason I loved him, Tohr – he knew me well enough. And he would never expect me or anyone to believe anything that came out of any politician’s mouth. That went for Bush, McCain, Obama, Clinton, and the rest. Liars all, he thought them to be. And he was right. His identity was not tied up in whether the Packers or Bears won on any given Sunday. To the contrary, he was a libertarian’s libertarian. You see, he employed critical thought – reason.
Gods justice will ultimately be visited on James Arthur Ray. And although that thought alone won’t make it any easier for James Shore’s family and friends during this upcoming Christmas season, through His grace you all will recieve the comforts you need; even of just in the somple form of each others company…
I know it’s tough Enoch, but you’ll get through it all, and will be there for to help his family through this tough time.
God’s hellish justice is what you have coming, Bob, but this Ray fellow deserves a little more than that.
By His mercy I am redeemed, sustained, and strengthened for my daily combat with the forces of darkness; as has been the case for most of my life…
My desires are to use the graces I’ve been given to serve His will by serving others, and to be a blessing to someone each day, just as He sends those into my life who will be a blessing unto me…
God is in control. You should try having faith in that simple fact, and accepting Christ into your heart as your Lord and savior, it would go along way to enriching your life in immeasurable ways…
thir take up His yoke upon you, for He says, “My yoke is easy and my burden light”. Let go, let God…
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I really need to organize my affairs, for the sake of my family. I’m a few decades too old to consider myself immortal, anymore.
God’s peace be on the Shore family this Christmas.