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trades who loved to work on anything mechanical. No matter what I needed, I could always count on him.
His parents owned an Apple Store in the days when Apple was a brand-new invention. I remember staying inside with him during the rainy days and playing computer games with no graphics. We stopped going to the cottage around the time I was 15, and I never saw him again — or so I thought. About 15 years ago, I was at a client’s house when I saw a business card stuck to my client’s refrigerator. It had Peter F.’s name, and I immediately recognized
Peter P. is the only guy I know who’s fallen up a tree. While he was working for a tree company, the crew had just felled a tree when one of the guide ropes looped around Pete’s leg. He flew 10 feet in the air! He turned out just fine from that, I’m happy to say. Unfortunately, he was also one of the hardest people I ever had to fire. Peter P. was wrestling with a lot of demons and liked to drink. I caught him drinking on the job and I had to be very straightforward and harsh with him, even though it was difficult to say such things to my brother. For years after that, he had a couple stints in rehab and became sober. He stayed sober for the rest of his life. He always told me, “You put the fear of God into me. You saved my life, Paul. I love you like a brother.” I had no idea that firing him would become a turning point in his life for him — but now, I’m so glad it was. We were closer than ever.
it since it was such a unique last name. The card was for an IT business and I figured, “His parents owned a computer store, so it’d make sense if he got into computers himself.” I called him and left a message, reminiscing over the old days and telling him to give me a call back if he’s the Peter I knew. Surely enough, Peter called back and we rekindled a friendship after nearly 30 years of no contact
whatsoever. I learned that he got engaged on the same beach we used to spend time at, and his wife and daughters still go down there occasionally. It was a joy reconnecting with him, as we shared a lot of similarities: We were both entrepreneurs and shared similar political beliefs. The only trouble in paradise was that he’s a diehard Red Sox fan and I’m a diehard Yankees fan. At least we certainly enjoy harassing each other over it. Peter F. is still with us today — perhaps by the power of prayer and God’s grace. Last year, Peter had gone to New York to pick up a motorcycle he’d always longed for. Then, he was struck by a car and was extremely injured. With over 19 broken bones, 23 surgeries and facial reconstructions, doctors feared that a traumatic brain injury would disable Peter’s ability to speak or walk for life. But Peter was a smart rider; with an armored leather jacket and helmet on, his life was saved. Now, he’s healed and has nearly fully recovered. It’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my life. He also had a tremendous amount of people praying for him. I’ll never forget it. The Petes in my life are each incredible people with incredible strength — I hope you enjoyed learning about them. I feel extremely lucky to have had the pleasure of doing so in person.
Life was looking up for Peter P. He’d always been the black sheep of the family because of his behavior, but his sobriety and hardworking attitude allowed him to rejoin the family tree business. Then, at the ripe age of 38, his mother called me last October and said, “Pete has passed.” He was loading and splitting wood and told a buddy he wasn’t feeling so good. Peter went upstairs to his room, laid down for a nap, and never woke up.
His family was devastated. The last thing I was able to do for Pete was give him a Masonic funeral. A dozen of us came out to support him, and it made a big difference for the family. I remember saying that Pete was one of those guys who always had a story to tell — and there was a good chance that some of them were even true. That’s the mischievous and hilarious Pete who will always live on in my mind. He left us far too soon. The last, but certainly not least, is Peter F. He’s among one of my oldest friends, as our friendship goes back to boyhood. When we were 10 years old, our parents would rent cottages that were across the street from each other, and we became as thick as thieves. For about 10 weeks every single summer, we’d go out to the lake on canoes, harass and get harassed back by swans, find secret springs in a tunnel beneath railroad tracks, explore little beaches, ride bikes, put off fireworks ... The list of shenanigans and adventures goes on and on.
2 OctoberKitchen.com
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