Today would have been my brother Peters 60th birthday. He died quite suddenly of heart failure 3 1/2 years ago. I composed this remembrance of him then, and thought I would share it now, on the occasion of this milestone. We were never facebook friends, but communicated through email, and some of those messages are pretty good reading. I wish he could have read this - but then, that would mean there would have been no reason for me to write it. That would be fine with me; Id make that sacrifice in a heartbeat. But never mind this paradox. Tell people how you feel about them and what they mean to you while you can, while it matters, while it can have a positive effect. It could make all the difference. I love him, and miss him very much. Im including a song by Fred Neil, one of his favorite musicians. This songs tends to pop into my mind when I think of people who are gone, one way or another. I think its a pretty good way to look at things. + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + x + It has been my great fortune to have known Peter for most of my life. I feel even more fortunate that he was my brother - well, for many reasons, but I am thinking now that while one chooses ones friends and these bonds can be stronger and more meaningful than familial bonds, being his brother meant that he was more or less stuck with me, regardless of choice. I was grateful for Peters presence in my life from an early age, and for a very selfish reason. My older brother Daniel used to pick on me - I came to understand later this is natural and all too common, but at the time I resented this treatment - so when Peter came along I was glad to have someone to divert this attention to. We were very unkind to him, as young boys often are. Since Dan and I had similar features - curly brown hair, blue eyes, just like our father - and Peter had straight red hair, brown eyes, and freckles, we told him he was the milkmans son - not that we even understood what that meant. I came to regret having done this, and years later when I got to know him better, I apologized for this shabby treatment. He laughed it off, but I believe he appreciated my having done this. We later learned that, by an odd coincidence, we had a great uncle, I believe, on our mothers side with this same appearance, amazingly enough named Peter. Go figure. Sometime in high school, I came to understand what a cool guy Peter was. Interestingly it was through hanging out not only with him but his friends - Rick Ostfeld, Sally Barber, Anne Dudley, Laura Mermin, Rick LaPalombara, and others. The two Ricks and a few others put together a pretty cool band, very much like Chicago. Their shining moment was at Peter and Ricks confirmation presentation, which combined Martin Luther Kings I have a dream speech, Chicagos It Better End Soon, and other anti-war speechifying. It was 1970, after all, and the Vietnam War was much on everyones minds. A lot of older people stormed out in protest, but these willful teenagers saw it through to the end, steadfast. There was another anti-war protest that got Peter into a bit of trouble. At a demonstration on the New Haven Green, Peter was in the back of the crowd , and happened to pick up a piece of red cloth from the ground. Just then whoever had the microphone was instructing the demonstrators to march along the street away from the Green, and said over the PA, Follow the guy with the red flag. Peter had no idea how he had become the leader, but headed down the street with the throng behind him. He was arrested on some trumped-up charge and eventually released, but it must have been pretty tough for a while there. We were able to laugh about it soon enough. I remember being so impressed that he travelled to Morocco just out of high school with Rick Ostfeld. Who has the nerve to do this so young? Someone who would say Why not and then go do it. He would end up doing an awful lot of travelling. There was a great wide world out there, and he wanted to experience as much of it as he could. We lost touch for a while in the 70s, going to college far apart. I visited him for a few days in New Orleans in 1977 on my way to California, and met Mitchell, and soon after I continued on my journey I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life by taking up with Melinda in Tucson. I should have known better, but I was susceptible to her charms. I hurt him deeply, causing a rift that lasted for years, and I regret this to this day. In fact, if there was any good that came out of his accident, it was that he was literally unable to escape my apologizing and efforts to reconcile and reconstruct our rapport. He even stayed with me for a little while during this period, but spent most of it with our mother in Rhode Island. My fondest memory of this time was when the three of us went to see the Fats Waller revue, Aint Misbehavin, at Theatre-By-The-Sea. He was in this antique wooden and wicker wheelchair Mom had found, and because of his condition we got to sit way down front, with his huge white casts elevated and shining in the - pardon the expression - footlights. It is the correct term, after all. When the number Your Feets Too Big came up, the performers had a field day gesturing to Peter. Just too funny. The 80s were a time of fairly stable situations for us - I had a steady job with the City of New Haven, Peter was working at Tachisto and living with Keith in East Falmouth. I spent a few weekends up there, and got to know his new group of friends - Keith, Glen and Patty, Johnny, and others. Soon Amy entered his life, and I met more good friends - Mary Collette, Marianne and Maria, David and Edna Rome, and more. They say the measure of a man is by his friends; then Peter, by this standard, was quite a man. But I knew that, anyway. I am sure they will have more to say about this part of his life, so I will end a recollections of his becoming the man he was here and talk some about the man he became. I dont know how he acquired his enormous joie de vivre, his love of life, but it was not some amorphous inclusive life but so many aspects of life - cooking, wine, gardening, making the perfect cup of cappuccino, identifying airplanes, many more - so many interests, all of which he explored fully and passionately. Im not sure how he came to know so much about so many things. I assume his interest was piqued for whatever reason and he then devoted time and effort to learning as much as he could about that subject, and this devotion rewarded him with knowledge. I know we didnt always agree, and arguing, or discussing, an issue with Peter could become a protracted experience. He prized being right, to be sure, but it was not out of pridefulness, but rather a desire to arrive at the truth of the matter - and if he was right, which he usually was, so much the better. I can recall only one time when I bested him in an area other than music. There was an old word Kay used to use to refer to table scraps - orts, as in we need a plate for the orts. With her swamp Yankee accent, Peter heard this as aughts, an old word for anything. We dug in our heels, as we often did, and eventually I politely suggested we agree to disagree, and let the matter drop. Apparently this was not good enough for him, for a couple of months ago, a year and a half later, I got an email from him to look at a certain clue in the NY Times crossword puzzle and provided a link. I replied I didnt even have to look, I assumed the word was ort. This was his way of admitting his error, and what really impressed me was the tenacity with which he pursued this very trivial matter. It was important to him to settle even the littlest disagreement, to reach understanding, and the ultimate undeniable truth, whoever may have been right or wrong to begin with. I believe there is something terribly wrong here. Someone with this much joie de vivre and passion shouldnt be taken from life so long before his time. He had so much love - for his wife, Amy, for his son, Sage, for his family and friends and acquaintances and just people he might meet in the course of the day - that it is a great loss for this much love to be stilled so soon. He had so much more to give, to learn, to share, to enjoy. He had an indomitable strength of will and spirit, and it just doesnt make sense that this does not exist in physical form any more. He will live in our hearts for the rest of our lives, because he touched us deeply and thoroughly, and we owe it to him to continue his efforts however we can, to honor the force of life that he was. The only thing I am glad about this is that he is finally, at long last, out of his pain, and has achieved peace in this rather extreme solution to that persistent problem. I miss him terribly, as so many of us do, and will love him forever, as so many of us will. And I am grateful for the opportunity to go on at such length about him, and your patience in this, but a man like Peter deserves no less. https://youtube/watch?v=fYl5v5OV_y8
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 02:45:22 +0000
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