One of Peter's favorite activities was writing down his favorite words. There are several pictures in the gallery of him busy at this activity, often with his Grandma, whose patience was unfailing. At one point an aide at the Spectrum School tried to help Peter reduce the size of his large letters. Peter got the idea and ran with it. His letters became so tiny that you couldn't tell what they were unless you already knew what word he was writing. 

Peter used to steal my pens, so often that I finally got a lockable pencil case to keep them in! It was frustrating at the time. Now it seems charming. All of many many spiral notebooks were peppered with pages beginning: Barney, school, blue olive, baby, girl...One day after Peter moved to his new home I went through my notebooks and cleaned them up. And when Peter died I couldn't find a scrap of his writing. I was so sad.

So imagine my joy when, recently, going through some notebooks in a box, I found one I'd missed during my big cleanup. Here is a specimen of his fervent, happy writing, which makes me so happy and so sad to see.  

Peter liked to explore. Sometimes we would be asked if he was likely to "bolt," but we didn't like the phrase, which made it sound like Peter was running from something, and at a faster pace than he ever used. He just always liked to see what was out there. Of course, "escape" isn't any better! 

One morning in San Francisco when Ron was taking out the recycling and had put the gate blocking the stairs aside for that reason, I heard the usual rattling as someone searched our recycling for cans that could be returned for their deposits. Then suddenly a voice called, "Yo! Your baby down here!" I rushed down to find Peter in his yellow sleepers; he had slid down the carpeted stairs one at a time on his butt and was ready to explore the great outdoors. Little did we know it would be the first of many times he set forth on adventures without our blessing.  

While we lived in San Francisco Peter attended a Saturday program that had a door that could be easily pushed open. The program was not allowed to make the door more difficult to use due to fire regulations. Peter used this door frequently, he seemed to know just when someone caring for him had gotten distracted. At home, too, he occasionally got away. He crossed Guerrero, something we heard about with our heart in our throats. He visited the housing projects a couple blocks from us. The police returned him to us more than once, and at Christmas one year they brought him a stuffed toy. We were appreciative, yes, but also a little embarrassed!