Pete was an older man — and a good man.
The kind of man you feel proud to call a friend.
Every year, a few days before my show at Bryant Park, he’d call me to wish me luck, a simple gesture, but one that stayed with me.
He owned this boat.
It lived quietly in his garage at his home in West Hampton. It never touched the water — not once. When Pete was healthier, he would paint it, then repaint it, and afterward he’d light a cigar and simply, admire it. That was his ritual… his small moment of peace.
He doesn’t do that anymore.
Pete is in Heaven now, and I’m sure he needs no boat to sail wherever he’s going.
To honor him, I named it “Pete’s Boat.”
I wish him fair winds, always. ❤