Life is like a span of a few days, like a flower, like a shadow, like a breath and like a vapor. All of which only last for a second in the hourglass of life. Not only is life short, but also it is uncertain.
   Charles Irvine Robinson was only 48 years old when death snatched him from this life. His death was untimely and unexpected, and a shock to his STAR family. Tuesday morning Charlie came to work very upbeat from a week's vacation. He smiled, teased, and as usual, raced from one appointment to another. In less than 24 hours, he was dead.
   We loved Charlie Robinson, for who he was. He was not only publisher of this newspaper, but he was our friend. He was a kind and gentle man, who favored diplomacy over conflict. Charlie could often talk a problem away. His door was always open as was his heart.
   Charlie became publisher of the STAR at the young and tender age of 25, after working as a photographer, pressman, and advertising agent. He worked liked he played -- to win and have fun. He was on the cutting edge of technology, when it came to equipping the newspaper; always ready to take the production of the paper to the next level. Technology was his favorite part of newspaper production.
   A sports enthusiast, Charlie touched a lot of youngster's lives through youth sports, especially his daughter's softball teams. He never tired of talking about his daughter's softball teams and the outstanding play of each of the girls. He was also an avid golfer.
   Charlie was never one to upstage major players. He preferred being a stagehand to being in the limelight. His community involvement included the Chamber of Commerce, the United Way, the Rotary Club, sponsorship of golf tournaments, the Elizabethton Twins, and numerous other events. He was always willing to lend a helping hand.
   To many of us at the STAR, we watched Charlie grow up from junior high school all the way to publisher. At the newspaper, he was always supportive. The good times we have shared outweigh the bad.
   It is at times like this, that we find words inadequate to express what we feel. Perhaps, it hasn't sunk in, just what has happened.
   Today, his office door remains closed; there's a wreath hanging on the front of the building -- reminders that Charlie is no longer with us.
   Together, we will pick up the pieces and move forward, just as he would have wanted. Thanks, Charlie, for your friendship and for the kindnesses you showed this newspaper family.

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