Peter Thomas Bartlett

July 8, 1950-July 30, 2023

Peter liked his eggs runny, insisted on bread with whole grains, and believed crumbs in the butter were an abomination. He thought his three children were quite literally the coolest, neatest, most good-looking people he’d ever met—all share his classic Bartlett trait of being incapable of walking past a reflective surface without reaffirming that you are, in fact, the most charming and good-looking. Born in Martinez, California in 1950 to Edward and Julie Bartlett, Peter spent his early years alongside his older brother drinking sacramental wine and generally making mischief. He was an Alhambra Senior High School Bulldog and attended no less than three colleges before graduating from Cal Poly. In his later years, he returned to university to earn his master’s. Peter worked a number of jobs but never defined himself by his work. Instead he was defined by the connections he made with peers, colleagues, students, and friends. When Peter met Pam, he met the love of his life—a woman who found his idiosyncrasies charming and his aimlessness adventurous. Pete was a wanderer. The man reveled in beauty both natural and man-made. His children might even say there was a little too much description of Mount Diablo or Coit Tower or Horsetail Falls. He traveled swaths of the US, Latin America, and Europe. Never without company, a missing Peter could inevitably be found with his new best friend—always a stranger—a phenomenon affectionately called “Petey makes a friend.” He hiked a stupid number of mountains, fell asleep in every single park, and golfed a lot. Just so much golf. He had absolutely no sense of time. He was curious and capricious and so, so kind. He is survived by his wife Pam; his children Ashley, Zach, and Lucy; his daughter-in-law Megan; his co-parent Barbara; three of his siblings Sheila, Carole, and Mike; and a gaggle of beloved nieces and nephews. In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations to the Alzheimer’s Association or Okizu. And Peter?  Well, he would request that you go outside and walk aimlessly—you’ll find something worthwhile.

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