Harry Katz

[cdoug54]

For over 15 year, Harry, Jim Martina and I have been coming to cave country and loving every minute of it. Harry was always the instigator, asking when Jim and I could get away from work so we could spend two to three days away from everyday stresses, spend time with good friends, and get in a few dives.

After spending time with this big, gruff New Yorker, you couldn't help but love him. Granted, sometimes it took a while to get there, but you eventually realized someone caring and reliable was under that gruff exterior.

Our lastest trip was scheduled for the 20th of June and we were excited. Work had not been the greatest and getting away for a long weekend with Angie and Richard (Harry and Jim's two latest converts to cave diving), was eagerly anticipated.

However, this trip will not happen. Harry was found dead sitting at his desk yesterday by a good friend and neighbor after he had been unable to reach him by phone. We do not know the cause, and it is umiportant.

All we know is that we will miss our good friend and dive buddy.

Harry loved the sport.

Enjoy it while you can, because no one knows what tomorrow holds.

[Angie]

Well said, Chris...

Needless to say, Richard and I were shocked and saddened to learn that our pal Harry had passed away. We're still coming to terms with the news. The four of us - me, Rich, Jim, and Harry - had gotten together just last week for an impromptu wake for Jim's dog Kiki, who had to be euthanized due to poor health. Little did we know that would be the last time we would all be together. If only we had known, we would certainly have told him what a great friend he was, and how we could never, in a million years, repay him for his many gestures of kindness and thoughtfulness. And I maybe would've hugged him a little longer.

While I regarded Harry as one of my best friends, I did occasionally wonder why I, a serious yoga practitioner who is addicted to watching paranormal shows on TV and visits Starbucks way too often (all things Harry liked to give me grief about), found him so likeable. As Chris mentioned, he could be kind of grumpy and was fairly set in his ways. I'll never forget the long discussion I had with him, when we first met, about why Southerners call Toastchee crackers "Nabs." (I won't elaborate for fear of raising the wrath of all you fellow Southerners out there). Or the time I was diving alone in the Keys and wandered away from the boat following a turtle. When I came up, I was far, far away from the boat. When the captain mentioned that maybe he should come pick me up, Harry said, "No, she swam out there; she can swim back." And so I did. It took me about 20 minutes, as I recall.

So why did I find Harry to be such a likeable guy? Because underneath the gruff exterior was a heart of gold. He was a patient teacher, even to people who weren't officially his students. He was thoughtful. He was always willing to share what he had, whether that was food or dive equipment, or just his time. He was a loyal friend. And, most pertinent to readers here, he loved diving in general, and cave diving in particular.

When Rich and I first met Harry, we were working towards our divemaster certification, and Harry was helping our instructor, who had some health issues. From the moment we met him, he would regale us with stories about cave diving. He encouraged us to take a cavern class, so we could get a taste of what it's like to dive in a cave. Though we were initially reluctant because, after all, we liked diving in the ocean, he eventualy wore us down and we got our cavern certification. And, as he had known we would, we loved it. We are now working on our apprentice cave cert. If not for Harry, we would never have discovered the beauty and quiescence of cave diving. Even if he were still here, I would never be able to thank him enough for this.

It is said that a teacher lives on in the students he leaves behind. I think that's very true in Harry's case. I'm not sure exactly how many students Harry instructed over the years, or even how long he had been a dive instructor. I'm sure his students number in the hundreds, or even the thousands. That doesn't really matter at this point, I guess. What does matter is that he took the time and effort to share his knowledge of diving and love of the sport with so many others. I, for one, will never forget Harry, and will carry him always in my heart (that's yoga talk, I know - sorry).

Rest in peace, old friend.

[Sludge]

why Southerners call Toastchee crackers "Nabs."

Never heard of Nabs. Toastchees are by Lance, and here in Columbus, Georgia (home of Tom's) we always call them Eat-A-Snax, whether they're from Tom's or not.

Nabs? I need to be explained that one!

[Angie]

Hi Sludge....

Re: Nabs

Lance Inc.
Lance, Inc., is an American snack food company headquartered in Charlotte, North Carolina.
They manufacture snacks such as:
Captain's Wafers
Toastchee Crackers
Nekot cookies
Gold-N-Chees crackers
Cape Cod Potato Chips
Tom's Potato Chips


Nabs
Many snack cracker products manufactured by Lance are commonly referred to as "Nabs". The term "Nabs" today is used to refer to any type of snack crackers, most commonly those made and manufactured by Lance, Inc. Many in the southeastern United States prefer the term Nabs to generically mean the specific Toastchee brand of Lance crackers. The term has its origins back to 1924 when the National Biscuit Company (Nabisco) introduced a snack, put in a 5-cent sealed packet called "Peanut Sandwich Packet". They soon added a second, "Sorbetto Sandwich Packet". These packets allowed salesmen to sell to soda fountains, road stands, milk bars, lunch rooms, news stands etc. Sales increased and in 1928 the company adopted and started to use the name NAB, which immediately won the approval of the public. This term caught on and is still widely used today.

I copied this from some random website. I'm from eastern NC originally and, when I was a kid (a loong, loong time ago....) the only crackers Lance made was the orange ones with the peanut butter filling. Maybe they made others, but the only ones you could buy in my town were those. And we called them "Nabs." I'm not quite sure what the label actually said, because I never took the time to read it.

Tomorrow's topic: moon pies.

[Sludge]

... and I hope every time you eat these crackers you think of Harry.

Rest in Peace.

[Angie]

Thanks Sludge. I do and I will.

You're very sweet.

Angie

PS. I named my dog after Harry, too. Because I was hoping I could guilt Harry into taking him. (Harry the dog is a boxer who appeared at my house one day and wouldn't leave. Harry the person loved boxers, and didn't have a dog at the time. He was too smart to take this one off my hands).

[MichaelAngelo]

I am sorry to hear of Harry's passing.
Michael Angelo

[Fred G]

Dear all,

I was saddened to hear of Harry Katz Jr's passing (he died June 11, 2009). This is my memorial to him...

I guess you could say that I was a childhood friend of Harry's. Actually, Harry hung around with my older brother and his friends and occasionally allowed me to come along; usually when my brother wasn't around. I grew up in Yorktown Heights, NY which is about 45 miles north of NY City. Harry was a kind of childhood hero of mine during the mid to late 1960s. Harry drove a 1967 327 SS Camaro that was as fast as any car of its time. Driving around in that car with a carload of guys was exciting as all hell. In those days we used to play car tag; driving with our headlights off and then flicking them on when we came upon another car we were chasing. Harry was the best. He nicknamed me "Fearless Fozdick" because he was always daring me to do something stupid. I usually obliged. One time he and I drove down to a train trestle running across the Croton Reservoir. He dared me to jump. Before I knew it he had grabbed me and pushed me off, following me down laughing all the way. I almost crapped my pants but Harry was there to make sure I didn't drown. Some of the best times we had was driving around the back of our town hall where the police station was located. Harry would turn off the car lights, rev his engine, lay on his horn and burn out. His burn marks are still smoking in my memory. The police would come running out but never chase us. I remember when one day Harry showed up with his scuba gear and jumped into our above ground swimming pool. Sitting on the ladder of the pool I was intrigued by his gear and his ability to hover in the water. After a few minutes Harry insisted that I learn how to scuba dive. He showed me the proper way to don the gear, breathe through the regulator and clear my mask and snorkel. He then helped me into the pool and had me place my face in the water and breathe through the snorkel. When he felt I was proficient at that he told me to sit on the bottom on the pool and take my mask off and put it back on while clearing it of water. All told I was in the pool for about 15 minutes. It was in those 15 minutes that I knew I wanted to become a scuba diver. I never had the chance to thank Harry for giving me that chance to experience scuba diving which later led to my certification. Harry moved away while I was in the Air Force, back in the early 1970s. I never spoke with him again. I learned that he had moved to North Carolina and was involved with stock car racing. I wanted Harry to know that I did buy a 1968 Camaro Z/28 because of him. I loved his 1967 SS Camaro. He used to put a dollar of his dash board and bet me I couldn't pick it up while he was accelerating. He always won until one time I got smart. I attached some fishing line to a dollar bill in my pocket. He never found out how I beat him at his own trick. I can still hear him yelling "Fozdick, how the hell did you do that!" After much tinkering with my '68 Z/28Camaro I found out that it probably would have beat his car in a race. If ever Harry returned, I would be ready for him. Harry never returned...

Harry was like a big kid, a big brother in those days. Yeah I used to get in trouble, drink beer, chase the girls but Harry was always there to make sure I didn't get too far out of hand. One look or one word was all I needed from him to remember that he was in charge. He helped me become the person I am today. My brother and sister-in-law kept in touch with Harry through the years. A number of years ago he rented a plane to fly them some place in the Caribbean. I'm not sure if any of you knew that Harry was a pilot and a good one at that. I've read the accolades and stories from his diving friends and wanted them to know that Harry mentored many people throughout his life. At times he was gruff (hell, I think he was born that way) but he had a heart of gold. I'll miss Harry but cherish the memories I now have of him. Harry the next time I have a beer (or two) I'll drink to you my friend!

[Al]

Somehow I missed this post last year, and just now read about Harry's passing. I have been out of touch with Harry and the other friends I had when I lived near Charlotte in the mid 90's.

Harry was my DM instructor, and he put me through hell before I got that card. I also did a lot of just fun diving with him in FL and the Caribbean. The last time I saw him was a few years ago at Ginnie, and maybe a year before that I ran into him and had dinner with him in Akumal.

To those who didn't know him well, he was a gruff and arrogant New Yorker. We laughed our asses off when a large dive operation in Key Largo told us to never come back, and it was rumored that Harry had been banned from a whole island in the Caribbean. I dove in FL, New Providence and Bonaire with Harry, and you couldn't ask for a better dive buddy. There was always entertainment when he would argue with just about anyone we came in contact with, like dive shop/boat staff, taxi drivers (Harry had a particular penchant for them), hotel staff and restaurant staff.

Rest in peace my friend, you are a character I will never forget.