time to ask about our families and our interests, just the way you take the time to make your way to a classroom to compliment students on a Morning Meeting presentation or a display of work in the hallway. Peter, we are struck by your warmth and compassion and your ability to connect with people in just the right ways. Talk about Peter with children or adults, and you’ll inevitably end up with trains. The English teacher in me sees so many metaphors there. Trains are elegant, Peter, like you. There is something just a bit old fashioned about a train, like you. And like you, trains are efficient and no nonsense. I suspect that trains inspire your love of traveling to new places. . . . This is the hard paragraph. But I think it’s important to say aloud. When we think of you, Peter, we also think of Ross. We know that your beloved Ross is central to everything you do and everything you are. You need to know that your abiding love for one another is an example and an inspiration to the rest of us. You and I have remembered together, Peter, the June morning when Jerry Katz announced
your marriage to Ross in Morning Meeting. There was a collective gasp of breath of the sort that accompanies the most joyful news and then an applause that was a heartfelt outpouring of love and congratulations. Peter and Ross, what you have with each other represents simplicity and sincerity in the truest sense of the words, and I believe that that lasts forever. ** We will miss so many things about you, Peter! We’ll miss your smile, your signature plaid shirts, belt buckles, and bandanas, your dancing at faculty parties, in the talent show or while chaperoning the Halloween dance. We’ll miss your French “Bravos” after Morning Meeting presentations you particularly liked, your “pose” when you deliver a serious statement – glasses off, fingers steepled together, and your frequent use of the double negative. We’ll miss the way you shake your finger at a naughty student and your classic comments — who else could possibly say the following so lovingly (and I quote), “We’ll stick your head in the pencil sharpener if you can’t stop talking.”
The Park Bulletin | Fall 2011
It is, in fact, difficult to imagine Park without you, Peter because you are one of the personalities that defines this place, and we all know that it is the people and not the structure that makes a school. I think we can all tell from this gathering today that Park students, parents, and faculty universally adore you, and I think it is clear to everyone here today that your absence next year is going to be keenly felt. At the same time, Peter, we firmly believe that you have left an important and permanent mark on this School. Park is a stronger place because you have been part of the fabric of the School for the past 23 years. . . . I’m going to end with an “almost” haiku, sent to me by one of our colleagues. I think it wraps things up perfectly. Humble rock star Consummate professional Respected and beloved by all. **This summer, Peter’s beloved husband and partner of more than 32 years, Ross Kleiman, passed away after a difficult battle with cancer.
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