Message: We are honored to provide this Book of Memories to the family.

Message: My nickname for Opa Pete was 'Yell, yell, yell, smoke, smoke, smoke', which is a lot more endearing than it seems on the surface. I never knew him to yell, but he did have a strong voice. He really focused on what was important at a very basic level: simple pleasures like causal sports and pie, and even smoking. Here's to you, Peter. I hope they're less than 50 cents a pack in Heaven like you wanted.

Message: God looked around his garden And found an empty place, He then looked down upon the earth And saw your tired face. He put his arms around you And lifted you to rest. God's garden must be beautiful He always takes the best. He knew that you were suffering He knew you were in pain. He knew that you would never Get well on earth again. He saw the road was getting rough And the hills were hard to climb. So he closed your weary eyelids And whispered, 'Peace be Thine'. It broke our hearts to lose you But you didn't go alone, For part of us went with you The day God called you home.

Message: I remember when Dad first really, really caught the golfing bug. Until then, he had just played in a couple of fun tournaments a year with his Persechini pals. Dad enjoyed the game, did alright, but wasn’t yet golfing regularly. During one visit Thea, Pete, Mick (my husband) and I (Colleen) played an 18-hole round of golf at the local municipal par-3 golf course. You know the kind; no sand traps, no water hazards, straight, open fairways with few trees and even less rough to distinguish one hole from the next. A duffers dream. We were nearing the end of the game at the 16th hole, when Pete pulled out his driver to tee off, just as he had for all the previous 15 par-3 holes. Dad could hit the ball a decent hundred yards with the driver so we said, “Ah Pete, don’t you think you should use a different club here? The hole is only 70 yards away and there’s no backstop.” “No” dad said, “I like this club and maybe I’ll hit the green.” So he warmed up, took some practice swings, pulled back and swung through the ball. He hit the sweet spot and hit it hard. That ball took off like a rocket, reached the top of its arc at the green, sailed past the bushes behind the green and the fence at the back of the course. The ball bounced on the road and over the fence of the fancy golf course across the road. Dad was thrilled. All he could say for the next three days was “Did you see that ball?! Did you see that ball?!” “Wow did it ever fly!” And that was the TSN turning point where Dad got hooked on golf.

Message: I remember a fellow who liked apple pie and golfing. You will be missed

Message: Some people just can't help making a difference in our lives. By simply being who they are, they make the world a little brighter, a little warmer, a little gentler, and when they're gone we realize how lucky we are to have known them. The world has lost a very special gentle person. A friend sent me this poem which gave me great comfort. I hope you enjoy it too: "You can shed tears that he is gone Or you can smile because he has lived You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left Your heart can be empty because you can't see him Or you can be full of love that you shared You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday You can remember him and only that he is gone Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back Or you can do what he would want .... smile, open your eyes, love and go on"

Message: for my Dad