1967, Yale Class Book, 1967
Peter's photo in our yearbook. Unfortunately, I could not find a Freshman year photo of him.
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“Building the Wall”
A hundred years from now, this wall may still be standing—I love this wall and the memory of building it with my dad even more
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My dad was a loving, effortlessly cool force—a master craftsman, poet, and Ivy League PhD, Dr. P, who chose to build with his hands because he could, and because it paid better than teaching Shakespeare. He retired to a stunning acre in France, learned French after 60, and turned his backyard into a small farm. He built Victorian homes, even a sailboat, and rocked with his band into his 70s.
I remember him waking up at 5 a.m., often working seven days a week, and yet he never missed a game. He cooked gourmet meals for a family of six, and somehow always found time to play catch, teach us something, or help us with our writing. As a kid, I thought that was just what dads did. Now, as a father myself, I understand how rare and remarkable he truly was. I miss you, Dad. You set the standard for what it means to be a good father, and I’m forever grateful I had you as my example.
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