It was a few days later when a number of the office intellectuals were gathered around the water cooler discussing a newspaper article (I believe the New York Times) regarding whether God was still alive. Some believed he was alive; some believed he never existed; and some believed he had existed but was now dead leaving us to fend for ourselves. Pete listened quietly until someone asked his opinion. He quickly responded,

"I know he is alive, because I recently saw him putting up an A-frame just outside Rutland, Vermont."

While the others just stared, trying to understand the meaning of such a statement, I burst out laughing. I knew we would be good friends.

A few days later I asked Pete if he would like to go to lunch. He said he was planning on going to the mall to look for a sweater and asked if I would like to go with him. I rode with him and, for the next 45 minutes he examined every sweater at every store in the mall, even asking the salespeople if they would be getting in additional shipments soon. Finally, hungry and desperate, I asked if he had found the one he wanted. He replied,

"Oh, I wasn't planning on buying one today. I just wanted to narrow it down for when the weather gets colder and I really need one."

We didn't have time for lunch.

I soon met Pete's wife, Rosanne, who was eight months pregnant with their first son. Matthew was born a few weeks later and Andrea three years after that. As a divorced, single parent, Pete and Rosanne would often invite me and my two boys for dinner. It was about that time that I learned Pete's quirk of giving everyone his own personal name. Rosanne was Boo-bear (don't ask me why), Matthew was Puppy Brownstone (later he graduated to Carlos--Big Puppy Senior), and Andrea was simply the Panda Bear. I became whatever name suited him at the time-Billy, Floyd, or, my personal favorite, Arnell. I didn't mind until it caused me a great degree of embarrassment. I went into the local drug store to purchase a magazine. It was a slow day and the young clerk had his back to me stocking cigarets. When he turned around. I burst out laughing at his "Arnell" name tag. Seeing the look on his face I immediately apologized, stating that I just remembered a joke someone had told me.

Trying my hand at the "name game", when Andrea turned three I started calling her Carletta. She did not like it and wanted to know why. I said since Matthew was Carlos, she had to be Carletta. Her dislike of the name did not stop me from using it. I think, however, she had a change of heart on Christmas. Christmas Eve when I arrived at their house with a bag of presents. I gave one to Pete, one to Rosanne, and one to Matthew. Almost in tears Andrea asked if there wasn't one for her. I removed the last gift and told her the only one left was for Carletta. She began jumping up and down and yelling, "I'm Carletta, I'm Carletta." She never complained after that.

Rosanne never appreciate Pete's sense of humor. Her comment was always,

"After you've heard his material for a few years it gets old."

It's a shame she doesn't appreciate him because I feel she is missing out on a true comic genius. Such as the night, after the kids were asleep, she saw him slip into their rooms. After he emerged she asked,

"What were you doing in there?"

"I was turning off their ceiling fans," he responded.

"Do you do that every night?"

"Yes."

"Well, do you think that is fair?"

"No, I don't, my pet," he quickly replied. "As a matter of fact I was just about to ask you if you would wait until I go to sleep so you can turn off our fan."

She still doesn't laugh when I tell the story.

As much as I appreciate Pete's humor, however, it has still caused me a lot of problems. In 1989 I married a sweet schoolteacher, Bridget. Of course I asked Pete to be the Best Man-a decision I later questioned. As all eyes were focused on the Bride walking down the aisle, I felt an elbow in my rib. I tried to ignore him but he would not be denied. Finally, after the third jab, I turned to him and demanded,

"What do you want?"

He simply pointed to my Bride and asked, "New Dress?"

They say the seriousness of a situation only increases the need to laugh. Shall we say I am forever grateful that my wife has a sense of humor or I would still be single.

Pete's ability to analyze any situation past the point of any logic is frustrating to family and friends alike. A few years ago he began a search for a used car. He decided it would be a good learning experience for Matthew, then 18, who accompanied him. After almost a year and hundreds of hours looking, he found the car he wanted-a five year old Buick. Proud of his accomplishment, he told Matthew,

"Now see son, it took a little time but I found just what I wanted at the right price."

Matthew, who is unfortunately inheriting his father's sense of humor, stated,

"What, Dad-they weren't making this car a year ago?"

His latest quest-which began about five years ago-is to find a classic 60's Corvette. At a car show he showed me exactly what he was looking for. Armed with this information I decided to help him in his search. Finding one on the internet I called him with the information. The conversation went something like this;

"Hey, Arnell."

"Hey, Billy."

"I found a car for you."

"Great, what have you got?"

"It's a burnt orange 63-a real beauty."

"I don't like the orange-it looks too much like Tennessee Volunteers colors (I am from Tennessee).

"You could paint it."

"I don't like the 63."

"It's exactly like the model you showed me."

"Except it only has two side vents. The 67 has three."

"You can't live with one less side vent?"

"There's also an optional steering wheel on the 67 you can't get on the 63."

"And what if the 67 you find doesn't come with the optional steering wheel?"

"I'll buy a wrecked 67 that has it and change it."

"Then you could do that with a 63."

"Then it won't be original. What size engine did this car have?"

"I don't know. I think it said a big block."

"That's too much horse power. It will use too much gas."

"How often you planning on driving this car?"

"It's just the thought. Was this a convertible"

"It has a T-top."

"That's not the same."

"It is the same. It's just a hard-top convertible. The roof still comes off."

"I don't think it will appreciate as much."

"Well, I'd appreciate it more if you bought this car."

"Sorry-you'll have to keep looking, Floyd."

"You're never buying a car, are you?"

"No, but if I ever do I know where I can get a nice sweater to wear while I'm driving it."

If you have a classic Corvette, have ever owned a classic Corvette, or ever known anybody who has owned a classic Corvette, Pete will probably be calling you.