Happy Birthday, Peter. You would be 47. We miss you.

Mike and family

Dear Audrey and Tom and Kirstin

Thinking about you today, knowing it's not easy. They say grief is love with no place to go. But Peter is happy, I believe,  knowing that you love him and that you all share your love for him with each other. 

March 9,1979 was such a joyful day. Wishing Peter a joyful heavenly birthday today!

Sending love, Marian 

Thank you to everyone who has shared their memories of Peter already. Since I learned of his passing last spring I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what a memorable person Peter was and what exactly made him so one of a kind. I’ll do my best to express some of that here.

I knew Peter from Westwood View, where Kirstin and I were in the same grade, but it wasn't until I moved to Lawrence in 1999 that we got to be good pals. I was living in a scholarship hall on Louisiana Street and he was living nearby in the attic of one of those ramshackle Lawrence buildings that seemed more like a treehouse than an apartment. Another scholarship dorm was being built next door, and Peter used to set up candles, play guitar, and set up a makeshift mini golf course in the building's foundation using some clubs he’d salvaged from an abandoned house. When someone approached him to ask what he was doing, Peter assured him he was a professional mini golf course designer conducting important research. I’m not sure the guy bought it, but he decided to leave it alone.

Over the next few years we’d frequently walk around Lawrence at night, drinking thermoses of green tea and talking about our favorite books — Celine, Dostoevsky, Bulgakov, and of course, Henry Miller. He’d read much more of the classics than I had and would weave these authors’ quotations and voices into our conversations, bringing them to life with humor and aplomb. Peter had a reputation as a great writer, but like Socrates (or even Jesus — a fellow Pisces, after all), Peter preferred to deliver most of his messages in speech rather than writing, dropping pearls of philosophy on his friends while out in the world instead of shut away with a notebook.

We’d hang out at friends’ houses, on front porches and in back yards, mostly at night, and play guitar or listen to music, Peter breaking down his favorite albums: Blood on the Tracks, London Calling, The Mollusk, Led Zeppelin II, and so many others. I loved (and still love) hanging out with Peter’s various friends, an eclectic mix of philosophers, pranksters, songwriters, or just kind, interesting people. Peter could charm and tease in the same breath, but just when someone seemed on the verge of actual annoyance, a sing-songy but sincere “love you” would set things right and restore smiles and laughter. He might piss you off sometimes but he was hard to stay mad at.

Since this was the years just before cell phones, I used to bike by Peter’s apartment at night to see if the light was on. One December night I found him out on the roof reporting with excitement that he’d already seen two dozen shooting stars. We loaded up into my Taurus and drove out to the country to watch the most amazing display of shooting stars I’d ever seen, which I later learned was the Geminids meteor shower. I’ve since planned several stargazing excursions in the two decades since, but never seen anything quite that spectacular. It's one of my favorite memories of living in Lawrence, of being in awe at the universe, feeling like a child even at ages 19 and 21.

When Kirstin transferred to KU our sophomore year of college and got an apartment with Peter (affectionately nicknamed "Vomit Stadium" though I don't recall any actual vomiting) I was thrilled to be able to hang out with two of my favorite people at once. They made me feel like a long-lost sibling, and I like to think the trademark Wiegmann wit, humor, and subversive spirit seeped into my own being. The good times dwindled a bit after that lease ended, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry about Peter sometimes, but we were fortunate to reconnect years later in Kansas City and remain friends.

As I raise my own kids and experience a strange sense of coming full-circle (Mike Tuley and I each live back on our old street and have kids at Westwood View, where our playground gangs and mischief all started) I think about the things that made Peter unique, and how many of them were rooted in the truth, wonder, and values of childhood. A deep curiosity, a sensitivity to animals, bugs, and other living creatures, a wild sense of imagination and a disregard for social norms or authority.

Reading all of your stories and reflecting on my own, a final quality that sticks out is Peter's passion — for music, for literature, for art, for science, nature, and for those he was close to. When he cared about something or someone he put his whole heart into it.

I miss my friend Peter and I know you do, too. He surrounded himself with wonderful people over the years and I look forward to seeing you at the memorial in April.

much love,

Luke Wetzel

We only heard this very sad news today.  

We are sending our most sincere condolences to the whole family.  

Zsuzsa Vamos, Istvan Adany

I am very sorry to hear about Peter's passing.  Audrey and Tom, now that I am parent, I can perhaps distantly understand how you must feel and I don't have words adequate to express my sympathy.  

I was friends with Peter from elementary school through high school and friendly with him in college, although we did not spend as much time together as when we were younger.  I was not the most socially well-adjusted child and Peter was always very kind. I spent many afternoons playing at the Weigmann's and still remember your home as a warm and welcoming place. 

My favorite adult memory of Peter is when I was eighteen.  He and Jon Hammond learned that I was going to enlist in the military. One evening, they came over to my house to stage an intervention.  We talked for several hours.  They earnestly warned me about the risks of combat, the potential for a life altering injury, and the misuse of the military in our foreign policy. Their warnings did not dissuade me.  But what I remember decades later is that they cared enough to make the effort and their absolute sincerity. This story, like many of those already posted here, testifies to Peter's compassion. I wish he could have shared that with the world for many more years.     

Helping The Vulnerable:

“Hey do you want something to eat?” Peter said. The man looked up and said “Sure. Sausages from the grocery store.” “You wanna come so you can pick out your favorite ones?” Peter said. “Sure.” He said. “What’s your name?” asked Peter. “Henry”.

We walked some isles...“I like these. Spiced and already cooked” he said. I laughed but it wasn’t funny. “Can’t eat much because of my teeth.” We rang up at the register. “Is there anything else you need?” Peter said. “Sure, I could use a ride across town.” So Peter driving, we gave him a ride across town, and some hugs.

Just like pulling me aside when we first met and telling this paranoid scared kid “We’ll wait until you’re ready” for playing guitar, Peter also had a leaning toward helping vulnerable or less fortunate people. Especially people who others ignored. Often, when we would see a homeless person in public, Peter would go talk with him or her, and spend significant time with them, like half an hour or an hour. These excursions would usually lead to us buying some food for the person, giving them a ride across town, and/or some other thing that the person needed or wanted.

He was the same with animals. I remember him taking me to a lamb in a field near where he lived which he named “Lamby”.  Lamby was was tied to a fence with the owner nowhere to be found. It was a favorite spot of Peter’s, who couldn’t understand why the animal would be tied up and left alone. Instead of hanging out at some other spot, he would bring different members of our circle of friends there so that instead of just hanging out, we could also feed, pet, and show some love to Lamby at the same time.  We would sometimes sit there for a couple of hours without saying much and just petting her, or we’d talk and form thoughts about the nature of the universe: Our small planet hurtling through space amidst countless galaxies and undiscovered alien life.

Meeting Peter For The First Time:

I was feeling shy and paranoid because I had tried smoking pot for the 3rd time. My parents were out of town. My friends were hanging out upstairs or in the yard when Peter and Jon came downstairs. Jon saw me sitting on the floor playing guitar said, “Hey I’m Jon, this is Peter, do you want to play some guitar together?” Because I was an insecure 15 year old and stoned I said “I don’t know how Mike will feel about me playing with anyone else because we only play music together”.  Mike was my best friend. Jon, understandably got upset and said “What? You have to get someone else’s permission to even play guitar with us? That’s weird… C’mon Peter let’s go.” and he walked back upstairs. But Peter knelt down beside me on the floor and put his hand on my shoulder and I immediately felt love coming from this 16 year old stranger as he said: “It’s ok. We’ll be here, and we’ll wait until you’re ready.” Ever since that first moment I was hooked. Peter knew what I was going through and I loved him for it.  

Dr.  and Mrs. Wiegmann;

My heart was deeply saddened when I heard about Peter’s passing.  He was a polite, kind and caring young man. Praying for your family and his friends as you grieve this great loss. Please know that Peter touched every life he came into contact with, I remember his friendly demeanor and kindness. 

Warm regards,

Kim

Dear Audrey, Tom and Ertie,

My Peter stories are of a darling, curly haired, creative little guy. He always made me smile with his enthusiasm, imagination and ability to execute his plans. I remember all the kids were playing at your house one evening. He came out with a board strapped on his back with attached wires and innards of a phone or something close. I asked him what it was and he told me it was his “jetpack”. When I asked if it worked, he looked at me incredulously as if to say: “how could you even ask?" He replied "Of course, I went flying last night”. He was so confident, I had to believe him. I know he is soaring now.

You are a wonderful family. Peter was greatly loved, encouraged to be his own person and supported by all of you even as a little child. He never lost his impish smile, kind eyes and gentle ways. Please know you are in our hearts, thoughts and prayers. The Nanas