Where do I begin when talking about Tony? Complicated
question, that. I suppose with the facts, ma’am. He was Greek-born,
American naturalized, he fathered two beautiful sons, now magnificent
adults, who gifted him with four biological grandchildren and two bonus,
and, as corny as this sounds, and those who knew him can attest, he
ate the hell out of life and The American Dream. As the youngest of
seven children, he proudly hailed from the small town of Smila in the
Peloponnese outside Olympia (think games not Mount) at a time when Greece
was just out of the guerilla communist civil war, then as an older teen
in Athens lived through a military junta that toppled the fragile monarchy
and imposed martial law. He came to America in the mid-70’s as
an adult seeking a better life, better opportunities, a better future.
And with the help of Greek and Cypriot compatriots, and maybe more than
a wee bit of bootstraping, he found all three.
In the early 80’s…well, he met me and the
rest as they say is a good chunk of our-story. He had life experience,
I loved to read and write, and shortly after becoming a couple we put
the two together and created what I like to think of as a certain kind
of magic that resulted in over 50 published novels, many awards, and
a wealth of friendships born of the writing community and shared loved
of a good book.
I always envisioned a future where Tony was somewhere
in his 90’s, penning his autobiography, because, wow, what a story.
His father lived to a robust 103, and we all believed Tony would surely
live just as long if only because of his lust for life and living it.
Which made his abrupt passing at 62 a shock I don’t think any
of us have quite fully recovered from nearly a decade on.
Of course, I have every confidence his first words when
that proverbial light brightened were, “Holy shit!” Then
he most certainly stepped toward it, always up for an adventure, still
whispering, “Holy shit.”
Tony may no longer be here physically, but he’ll
live on in Tony and Tim and their children, as well as the name Tori
for as long as there are books bearing the pen name.
I have created a Karagiannis Family YouTube
channel (he opted for the phonetic Karayianni when naturalized) for
those who speak Greek, think they may be related, or are just plain
curious, that reflects a bit of our time living in and visiting Greece
together over nearly three decades, and memories with his late mother,
siblings and extended family over the years. The collection is nowhere
near complete, and does not yet include the boys or grandchildren (initiated
project to preserve deteriorating video tapes), but it’s a beginning.
https://www.youtube.com/@karagiannisfamily
Hmm, I should compile video and pics from the countless
writers and fan conferences we attended over the years before that medium
deteriorates, as well. Threat or promise, you decide.
As
for me, Lori, I was born in Toledo, Ohio, the older of two, and enjoyed
a traditional two-parent, expansive Norman Rockwell-esque existence
that included summer reunions with extended family members and neighborhood
block parties and get-togethers…until I was seven and my parents
split and Dad moved out. At ten, my mother left the house, and my father
returned with my stepmother and I gained two awesome half-brothers over
the next few years. By fifteen, that family splintered and I was living
with mom again, moving from rental to rental until I graduated with
a computer science certificate with a minor in accounting from Macomber-Whitney
Vo-Tech High School, a historied institution that sadly no longer exists.
Beginning with my first library card at age 5, and continuing through
mom’s monthly book club mailings that weren’t always titles
she asked for, books were a quiet escape, getting me out of my head
and providing tools to work my way out of sometimes emotionally and
physically challenging 
situations.
From twelve when I wrote letters that were never mailed with a stationary
set I was given as a birthday gift by a precious aunt, to countless
poems of longing, snippets of which still float around somewhere, to
a two-hundred-page, handwritten “manuscript” of teenaged
longing (names were changed to protect the innocent) when I was fifteen
my stepmother found and threatened to show to my father; I went to school
next day and ripped up the notebooks she hadn’t seen I had stashed
in my locker and threw them into the hall garbage. (Freshman year I
attended private Central Catholic, my dad’s alma mater; I can
only imagine Sister’s Gemma’s high color had she happened
across the writings.) Oh, to have those pages now…
Given that fractured upbringing and sensible vo-tech education,
the option of (nonpragmatic) writer appeared nowhere in my bag of possibilities
…until Tony suggested maybe I should look again. I was nineteen
to his twenty-nine and the future suddenly fanned out like virgin white
sheets of a #20 paper begging to be loaded into a leased typewriter.
Countless computer and bookkeeping and office managerial jobs (many
through a temp agency, until the last, which was nearly four years at
Toledo Glass City’s Owen-Illinois in the engineering and international
sales divisions) and nearly a dozen manuscripts later, with the chance
meeting of editor extraordinaire Brenda Chin at a writer’s conference
in Milwaukee, we published. Some fifty traditionally published titles
and five publishers later, yeah, I’d say writer was in that bag
after all.
Outside my writing life, I enjoy passing the time with
my self-described beau Karl, playing in the dirt, walking cemeteries
with task-driven Lancashire heeler rescue Milo, and delving into all
things historical on foot and via the library and the interweb highway.
Want more interaction? Go to http://www.facebook.com/toricarringtonofficial
and www.instagram.com/toricarringtonofficial
where I procrastinate…er, I mean post regularly. I’ve created
a TikTok account but don’t really have anything up yet: https://www.tiktok.com/@toricarringtonofficial
Available for chats and casts. Just drop an email to toricarrington@gmail.com
