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My (exceptional) friend, Peter

March 22, 2015

Peter introduced us to 'Alaska Thunder-Fuck', because we did a good Latin class.

I met Peter because us kids wanted to learn Latin. That winter's night, attending class in his Valdez home I heard a great gurgle come from a big vat of fermenting fluid. Chokecherry peyote wine it was.

We teenagers marvelled at a man who was an adult, but was one of us. Somehow Peter transcended the barriers of age and such. It seems whomever you were he looked you eye to eye as a person.

Peter had the magic. He did what came his way.

When I was a kid he told me he and a friend would take long drives in the fall to see the colors on mushrooms. I loved this. We talked of all-wheel-drive subaru's and optimal road-trip vehicles with great zeal. When I got my little 2.6 liter 4wd truck he expressed his admiration. He asked- 'What size gas tank does she have?'. We estimated how many miles I could go between fill-up's, in my vehicle of new found freedom.

That year at Chamisa Mesa high school we went to the Bodhi Manda Zen Center in Jemez Springs on a 'retreat'. The Hail-Bop comet was burning across the night sky and Peter was the magical Jester reflecting its cosmic illumination here on Earth. At the end of the retreat he told us he really appreciated his time with us kids, and the comet, amidst the sulfur smell of springs, Zen rituals, and 'hippy-high school 'repertoire. I felt what he was saying.

What began as our 'independent' Latin class with Peter led to him teaching at the high school. His class became part of the curriculum and he a fixture at school. We would drive down Blueberry Hill Road to Rita's to scarf down chicken mole burrito's. Herb and visine later we'd go back to school, Peter slinking in with the rest of us kids.

He is probably the smartest person I've ever met. His mental acumen was razor sharp. Remembering Latin declensions, events and dates in history, botany, lay-lines, books and poems.

He was a true radical. Walls of convention did not restrict him. He did what came his way, peacefully, and with Love.

Thanks for everything, big brother Peter. Big Love to you and your family. I think I'll pray to you from time to time. Love, your student, your friend.

December 19, 2014

I settled in Ranchos in 1972..a brand new refugee from the east Coast.  The Universe must have wanted me to be initiated quickly into the Taos mystique because Peter and Anne were my nearest neighbors and the first people I met here.  What an initiation!  We all became great friends.  Annie was pregnant with Ian at the time.  Peter truly was king of the hippies. rumor had it he used to drive a horse drawn buckboard to town back in the days just before I met him.  Two years after my arrival, I bought property in San Cristobal with Juan Sisneros and our two families with Iris and Marrc, continued to share many more iconic moments together. We would trade construction help…one week at our house one weekat Peter and Anne's. tall tales and adobe mud were slung in great quantities. Ian and Bess were toddling amongst the bricks and cement mixer and Sylvan was gestating.

Those times defined me and made for the greatest memories of my life…building our house with good friends in the NM sunshine..it just doesn't get better. Within it all, Peter was warning us about the dire times to come…he was very far ahead of others in his accurate prognostications. Because of him I squirreled away 50 lbs of brown rice and lentils to hold us over during the apocalypse! The only thing he was incorrect about was the timing…he definitely sharpened my awareness of the coming times. what a larger than life character! Imagine he and Bill Gersh are watching over all of us…what a pair of guardians! with their cosmic infusions we'll all take leave of our sanity (a good thing) and have a LOT more fun. I am sending him telepathic heartfelt deep gratitude for his huge influence in my life. again I say, what a character…he gave us all permission, with his huge personality, to be wilder, and freer. Deepest blessings Peter wherever you are. 

Peter the Great, and the outrageous...

December 16, 2014

Peter was one of the first people I met when I came to Taos. A hitchhiker guided me first to Taos, and then to an alternate cafe, run by an SF refugee named Rick. When I staggered in from the cold, I was penniless and fearful. (I had just deserted the army) And there was Peter, stoned out and gut-laughing. His resonant, baritone voice filled the room, and quickly won my heart. I was drawn into the stories of this former digger from the early SF days. I found myself laughing with him. I had just met a man who was joyful in these scary times. Suddenly I had forgotten my personal problems. Peter was unaware of the gift he was giving me. Peter was a natural leader for me.
To know Peter then was to get high with him, talk with him, and listen to him.
His life was, to modify Shakespeare,
"a tale told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury,
but (in Peter's case) signifying everything"

Peter the man then, lived it balls out, lusting after every experience, all beauty, all passion, with a child's wonder. Peter was profoundly sensitive to other people. He could communicate with and bridge the gap with all peoples he met. Peter was wonderfully unself-conscious. Why he wore his goddamned sombrero on plane flights for 30 years! I envy a man who can be so totally free like that. Peter made me feel uptight and rigid, and not many people can do that. And with Peter's freedom, I felt more free to say and do whatever I wanted to. For those of us who knew Peter, he was such a marvelous example of the grandeur of the human spirit. And if you knew Peter, you know exactly what I am saying. This was a profound gift from Peter.
I continued visiting with Peter every few years until his passing. Taos, for me, will now be more empty. For as Peter leaves us, we have only our grand memories, and some sorrow of the time passing about us. Yes, we are getting old. Our dearest friends are dying. 

As much as anyone I have known, Peter lived Dylan Thomas' great lines
"Do not go gently unto thy good night,
rage rage rage against the dying of the light" 

Carry on, Peter. You will rage on forever in our memories.   

December 15, 2014

      I made this collage' over 3 years ago after a friend had sent me a Taos News. I was shocked to see that Peter had had a "Living Memorial". Last winter I learned that Peter was alive and I was lucky enough to visit him 4 times on a visit to New Mexico this August. Being able to hang out and talk to Peter was fantastic, miracleous; very Taosean of him to keep on keepin' on.

     His sons have both been princes to me.

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