I heard the news about Peter early this morning, but didn't want to say
anything here until Christy had allowed the news to come out.

It's very strange...you kind of have to understand who and what Peter
was. He was close to my height, maybe 6'3 or 6'4, and just MASSIVE, muscular,
solid from toes to fingertips. Solid in his voice. Solid in his views.
Solid in his appetite. We sometimes referred to him as Peter "The Mad
Australian" Ledger. He could take over an entire table and turn it into a
party with himself as huckster, ringmaster, cannonballer and fireworks show
all rolled into one boisterous, funny, irresistible force of nature. We all
burn from time to time, but Peter burned brightly twenty-four hours a day. He
was full of turns of phrases that could put you away; "slippery as a bucket of
monkey's foreskins" being one of the more...memorable. He was into exercise,
food, had endless stories about the Australian outback, hunting, traveling the
world...he was a gourmet cook and a sculpter and an artist and a
raconteur...when he used to look at how I eat (red meat, everything fried or
broiled to within an inch of its life), live (haunting the midnight hours,
"the vampire people" he called Kathryn and I in our cave, not getting enough
exercise), he said that I was doomed and he would be sure to come by and pay
his respects when my entire cardiovascular system seized up finally in protest
and pulled a work stoppage.

And it was easy to believe, that Peter would go on forever.

I have lost too goddamned many friends to traffic accidents, and this one
is hardest of all. Though we hadn't spoken much since he moved up north,
schedules and work being what they are, it is a loss, for those who knew him,
and those who now won't have the chance.

jms