thedrifter
04-28-06, 07:15 AM
Orlando Marine dies at turning point in life
"He had a brilliant mind, motivated by the heart of a child"
Rich Mckay | Sentinel Staff Writer
Posted April 28, 2006
If you ever dined at Brio Tuscan Grille or the Black Fin restaurants in Winter Park, Anthony Palmisano might have been the kid who parked your car.
Maybe you were at Five Points Soccer Center near Sanford one night when he was a goalkeeper for the St. Andrews co-ed team. Or you saw him some other night downtown, sitting across the bar from you at Casey's On Central, with his black scruff of a beard and old Tampa Bay Bucs T-shirt.
Even when we don't know their names, guys like Palmisano are part of the ordinary backdrop that defines daily life in Central Florida.
The war in Iraq has brought home the tragedy of early death in many forms. There have been stories of mothers grieving for sons, of children losing fathers. There have been stories of bravery under fire and of horror at the hands of brutal mobs. Stories of shattered love and senseless loss. In all, 106 Florida soldiers have died -- 21 from Central Florida -- since the war began in 2003.
The story of Lance Cpl. Eric Anthony Palmisano has no single, great theme. It is just another sad story about another young man whom a lot of people loved, and who is now dead. It's another reminder of how a war in Iraq can rip into the social fabric of the home front -- and take away the kind of people we so often take for granted.
Palmisano, 27, blended easily into the Central Florida scene. He lived here for nine years from 1996 to 2005, attending the University of Central Florida, building a future with his fiancee and playing sports. Like so many others, he hailed from somewhere else -- Chicago -- settling into the region's service industry waiting tables, toting luggage and stocking alcohol in downtown bars.
Earlier this month -- two months after shipping off to Iraq -- he and a group of soldiers were caught in a flash flood in the Al Asad province. Palmisano was part of a combat-logistics convoy. The fierce waters toppled their 7-ton vehicle. Palmisano and two other soldiers were swept away. It took nine days to find Palmisano's body. In all, seven Marines and one sailor died.
"Eric was the best sort of dreamer and the first guy to have at your back if you got into something thick," said his longtime friend, Jackie Kutudis, 25. "He had a brilliant mind, motivated by the heart of a child."
Palmisano spent his early childhood in Chicago. In the 1980s, he and his family moved to Tampa.
He came to Orlando in 1996 to study criminal justice at UCF and play soccer.
He met his fiancee, Claire Kohake of Oviedo, in 1997, when they were both UCF undergraduates and in the same soccer league. They met at a party. Although Kohake, now 25 and a marketing and research specialist, brought a date, she instantly fell for Palmisano's charm and fierce wit.
"It was like love at first glance, electric," said the couple's friend and Palmisano's former roommate, Anthony Hernandez.
Palmisano's charm stemmed from his outspoken nature, sense of humor and down-to-earth nature. He wore hand-me-down clothes and drove an old clunker that didn't have first or second gear -- and no reverse.
His late-night escapades included sneaking into a neighbor's pool with a beer and a cigar.
He drifted through his mid-20s in a lingering adolescence of sorts, floating from job to job.
He brought his unique personality to that work. If you tipped him with coins, he might throw them in a bush. He'd say it was his wishing bush -- wishing for a better tip. One time, he was told to park a police patrol car. He thought it would be funny to turn on the lights and sirens and hit some other buttons.
He was fired on the spot.
Last year, everything changed when he told his fiancee it was time for him to grow up. He wanted to show Kohake that he was ready to be a husband and someday a father, his friends say. So he joined the Marines.
"I was crying and saying no, please don't go," Kohake said.
His friends noticed a change immediately. He lost weight and got in shape. Once sloppy, now he couldn't go to bed without properly hanging up his clothes.
He headed to boot camp last summer at Camp Pendleton, Calif. He didn't lose his sense of humor.
Palmisano declared that he loved the Marine haircut.
"Turns out I have a perfect head. Who knew?" he wrote in an e-mail.
But the serious side of Palmisano was also emerging.
He wrote in an e-mail to his fiancee: "I don't have a lot to show for the past few years of my life and I've kept my potential success bottled up for too long. This is an opportunity to prove -- mostly to myself -- that when I give something all my effort, I cannot fail."
He didn't fail. In fact he excelled as one of the best Marines in his company, Kohake said. He scored outstanding marks for conduct and duty performance.
He shipped off to Iraq in February. Friends and family didn't hear much from him because his duties kept him on the move and far from places where he could call or e-mail.
Kohake knew something had to be wrong when her phone rang about 5 a.m. April 3. It was Palmisano's mother calling with the news.
Today in Orlando, there will be a memorial service for Palmisano. His friends plan to gather at 7:30 p.m. at New Life Church of God, 2820 N. Alafaya Trail. They hope to tell stories of Palmisano's antics. Kohake said she hopes people laugh.
Palmisano wouldn't have had it any other way.
In fact, he probably would have loved to be there, himself.
Rich McKay can be reached at rmckay@orlandosentinel.com or 407-420-5470.
Ellie
"He had a brilliant mind, motivated by the heart of a child"
Rich Mckay | Sentinel Staff Writer
Posted April 28, 2006
If you ever dined at Brio Tuscan Grille or the Black Fin restaurants in Winter Park, Anthony Palmisano might have been the kid who parked your car.
Maybe you were at Five Points Soccer Center near Sanford one night when he was a goalkeeper for the St. Andrews co-ed team. Or you saw him some other night downtown, sitting across the bar from you at Casey's On Central, with his black scruff of a beard and old Tampa Bay Bucs T-shirt.
Even when we don't know their names, guys like Palmisano are part of the ordinary backdrop that defines daily life in Central Florida.
The war in Iraq has brought home the tragedy of early death in many forms. There have been stories of mothers grieving for sons, of children losing fathers. There have been stories of bravery under fire and of horror at the hands of brutal mobs. Stories of shattered love and senseless loss. In all, 106 Florida soldiers have died -- 21 from Central Florida -- since the war began in 2003.
The story of Lance Cpl. Eric Anthony Palmisano has no single, great theme. It is just another sad story about another young man whom a lot of people loved, and who is now dead. It's another reminder of how a war in Iraq can rip into the social fabric of the home front -- and take away the kind of people we so often take for granted.
Palmisano, 27, blended easily into the Central Florida scene. He lived here for nine years from 1996 to 2005, attending the University of Central Florida, building a future with his fiancee and playing sports. Like so many others, he hailed from somewhere else -- Chicago -- settling into the region's service industry waiting tables, toting luggage and stocking alcohol in downtown bars.
Earlier this month -- two months after shipping off to Iraq -- he and a group of soldiers were caught in a flash flood in the Al Asad province. Palmisano was part of a combat-logistics convoy. The fierce waters toppled their 7-ton vehicle. Palmisano and two other soldiers were swept away. It took nine days to find Palmisano's body. In all, seven Marines and one sailor died.
"Eric was the best sort of dreamer and the first guy to have at your back if you got into something thick," said his longtime friend, Jackie Kutudis, 25. "He had a brilliant mind, motivated by the heart of a child."
Palmisano spent his early childhood in Chicago. In the 1980s, he and his family moved to Tampa.
He came to Orlando in 1996 to study criminal justice at UCF and play soccer.
He met his fiancee, Claire Kohake of Oviedo, in 1997, when they were both UCF undergraduates and in the same soccer league. They met at a party. Although Kohake, now 25 and a marketing and research specialist, brought a date, she instantly fell for Palmisano's charm and fierce wit.
"It was like love at first glance, electric," said the couple's friend and Palmisano's former roommate, Anthony Hernandez.
Palmisano's charm stemmed from his outspoken nature, sense of humor and down-to-earth nature. He wore hand-me-down clothes and drove an old clunker that didn't have first or second gear -- and no reverse.
His late-night escapades included sneaking into a neighbor's pool with a beer and a cigar.
He drifted through his mid-20s in a lingering adolescence of sorts, floating from job to job.
He brought his unique personality to that work. If you tipped him with coins, he might throw them in a bush. He'd say it was his wishing bush -- wishing for a better tip. One time, he was told to park a police patrol car. He thought it would be funny to turn on the lights and sirens and hit some other buttons.
He was fired on the spot.
Last year, everything changed when he told his fiancee it was time for him to grow up. He wanted to show Kohake that he was ready to be a husband and someday a father, his friends say. So he joined the Marines.
"I was crying and saying no, please don't go," Kohake said.
His friends noticed a change immediately. He lost weight and got in shape. Once sloppy, now he couldn't go to bed without properly hanging up his clothes.
He headed to boot camp last summer at Camp Pendleton, Calif. He didn't lose his sense of humor.
Palmisano declared that he loved the Marine haircut.
"Turns out I have a perfect head. Who knew?" he wrote in an e-mail.
But the serious side of Palmisano was also emerging.
He wrote in an e-mail to his fiancee: "I don't have a lot to show for the past few years of my life and I've kept my potential success bottled up for too long. This is an opportunity to prove -- mostly to myself -- that when I give something all my effort, I cannot fail."
He didn't fail. In fact he excelled as one of the best Marines in his company, Kohake said. He scored outstanding marks for conduct and duty performance.
He shipped off to Iraq in February. Friends and family didn't hear much from him because his duties kept him on the move and far from places where he could call or e-mail.
Kohake knew something had to be wrong when her phone rang about 5 a.m. April 3. It was Palmisano's mother calling with the news.
Today in Orlando, there will be a memorial service for Palmisano. His friends plan to gather at 7:30 p.m. at New Life Church of God, 2820 N. Alafaya Trail. They hope to tell stories of Palmisano's antics. Kohake said she hopes people laugh.
Palmisano wouldn't have had it any other way.
In fact, he probably would have loved to be there, himself.
Rich McKay can be reached at rmckay@orlandosentinel.com or 407-420-5470.
Ellie