Peter was a historian. He wrote about history, taught history and created his story.
I loved his stories and was not shy about embellishing them. Not that they needed embellishment. There was his experience as a teenager finding an intact pilot and plane that went missing in WW11 in a high alpine lake while leading a mule train to Basque sheepherders, finding $10,000 in Malaysian currency behind the curtains after checking into a hotel, telling Dan Quayle’s secret service detail where to shove it while fishing in the Florida Keys, inheriting acreage in the Hamptons and turning it into 20,000 acres which were sold to Ted Turner and reading about it the North Carolina newspapers as we traveled to check out a possible investment, explaining his move from a high rise apartment in NYC to the moving van driver who had asked if it was move up and having just arrived he in Ridgway in the midst of a June snowstorm with the wind whipping and shingles flying.
I also appreciated Peter’s love of sports and allegiance to his teams. He loved the New York Rangers and often asked me to name the three members of the GAG line (Goal A Game). They were Rod Gilbert, Vic Hadfield and the Jean Ratelle, the one name Peter could never quite remember. And anyone who knew Peter knew that his pocket calendar came out the same day the Duke basketball schedule was announced, so he could enter each game so that all other appointments would not interfere with his beloved Dukies and the Cameron Crazies. He never liked the Colorado Rockies ownership and didn’t think much of college’s commitment to football with injuries and budgets that took away from academics.
He was rebellious and respectful, opinionated and a good listener, sensitive and courageous.
He had his physical challenges. After suffering a stroke mid week he was determined to attend a reading of his latest book. The doctors told him there was no way. The following Monday he explained to the assembled audience of friends and admirers, he explained through the occasional tear that he had suffered a stroke and he might slur some of the longer words. He never was a fan of three syllable words and compound sentences. He read for half an hour and answered questions for another thirty minutes.
I will miss Peter. Being with Peter and Deedee was a cure all for me. In their presence I thought and felt more deeply, felt loved and appreciated and left more fulfilled and aware of the magic of being alive.
I am grateful to have known Peter and to continue to have Deedee.