Queen Elizabeth II September 11 Memorial Garden
Conseleya 9/11 Memorial
Dewitt 9/11 Memorial
Montclair State University 9/11 Memorial
East Newark 9/11 Memorial
Fair Haven 9/11 Memorial
Freehold Township 9/11 Living Memorial Tree Grove
Crescent Beach Park - Flagpole/Memorial for 9/11 Victims
Garrison Elementary School American Patriot Garden
Cool New Yorkers drape themselves in black. Guess someone forgot to tell John Katsimatides. Because he was very cool and lived utterly in Technicolor.
His Jet Ski and his Jeep were bright yellow. His Harley was baby blue. During his Travolta-esque period, he cruised Astoria Park strip in "Sweet Sensation," his blindingly white 1982 Eldorado Cadillac; no black leather jackets could rub against its snowy seats.
At a macho Super Bowl party, the underwear he flashed was hot pink.
A bonds broker at Cantor Fitzgerald, Mr. Katsimatides, 31, had a cocky strut and melted even the most self-conscious women with, "Hey good-looking, what's up?" He could also be tender — "Agape mou" (my love), he addressed family members, shouldering them through private tragedy. He attended Greek Orthodox services every Sunday at a different church. He was something else.
Johnny Bodacious, they called the guy who would do back flips off windowsills to impress the girls, who would do Greek dances on tabletops, fall, break his wrist, and keep on dancing. Johnny Cash, they called the guy who would borrow $20 to get into a club and end the night with $40 in his pocket, an endearing moocher who also ran up $500 on his credit cards from a night of buying drinks for the bar.
(You can't imagine how many people thought he was their best friend.)
New York Times Portraits of Grief
Cool New Yorkers drape themselves in black. Guess someone forgot to tell John Katsimatides. Because he was very cool and lived utterly in Technicolor.
His Jet Ski and his Jeep were bright yellow. His Harley was baby blue. During his Travolta-esque period, he cruised Astoria Park strip in "Sweet Sensation," his blindingly white 1982 Eldorado Cadillac; no black leather jackets could rub against its snowy seats.
At a macho Super Bowl party, the underwear he flashed was hot pink.
A bonds broker at Cantor Fitzgerald, Mr. Katsimatides, 31, had a cocky strut and melted even the most self-conscious women with, "Hey good-looking, what's up?" He could also be tender — "Agape mou" (my love), he addressed family members, shouldering them through private tragedy. He attended Greek Orthodox services every Sunday at a different church. He was something else.
Johnny Bodacious, they called the guy who would do back flips off windowsills to impress the girls, who would do Greek dances on tabletops, fall, break his wrist, and keep on dancing. Johnny Cash, they called the guy who would borrow $20 to get into a club and end the night with $40 in his pocket, an endearing moocher who also ran up $500 on his credit cards from a night of buying drinks for the bar.
(You can't imagine how many people thought he was their best friend.)
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