CHRISTOPHER CRAMER: Dreaming of Key
West
Christopher
Cramer had 317 days left and he would be gone for
good.
Gone to Florida. Taking the buyout and retiring at
35.
And just like his man Jimmy Buffett, he was going to
live on an island and fish and grow fat drinking
beer.
"He wanted to get down there before he went totally
gray," said his fiancée, Tracy Pereless, who was
with him for four years, ever since they ran into each
other in the bread aisle at the A&P. "That's what New
York did to him for 11 years, turned him gray," she said.
"He started at 7:10 and he hated it."
Mr. Cramer lived in commuter hell, driving more than
200 miles a day from his home in Long Beach, N.J., to the
World Trade Center and back. He worked as vice president
of tax operations for Fiduciary Trust Company
International.
His home was on a lagoon, and on the weekends he
fished from his deck and drank beer with his people and
dreamed of Key West.
He was loved by his parents and three brothers and
sister and fiancée. And if they could, they would
apologize to him for forgetting to play Jimmy Buffett at
his memorial.
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