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Friends, Strangers, Brothers and Sisters,

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, a great tragedy occurred, and many people who we love passed away. Among the people aboard United Airlines Flight 175 was Peter Hanson, and his wife and daughter. Peter was a resident of Boston, and he grew up in Easton Connecticut where I knew him. Our friend, Annie, is compiling home videos and pictures of Peter. If you have anything to contribute, she promises to take special care and to send it right back. Email her for details.
I want to share my memories of Peter, and I encourage you to send me yours, too, and I'll post them here.

The Hanson Family

Some Thoughts:

I am awe filled, tear filled, emotionally filled and simply touched with the outpour of feelings and thoughts by some of Peter's friends. The frenzy of phone calls and emails that have ensued since this tragic event took place has left me in wonder. I hesitate to offer my own words as so much has been said and I may not be able to offer these incredible people an adequate depiction they so very much deserve. Perhaps I will try for the therapeutic nature it may serve, perhaps I have the need to share something with people so they can truly appreciate how much they meant to most anyone and myself that had the privilege to know and love them. Certainly, I will try to express myself for Peter, Sue and Christine for a try is adequate in itself.

If Peter had the opportunity, he would enjoy saying his goodbyes to each and every one of you individually with great vigor and tenacity. Peter was prevented from doing this with most everyone except his father. I can honestly say that, for me, the most comforting aspect of this entire nightmare we all must endure is the fact that he was allowed to at least say goodbye to his Dad. What is so markedly profound is the manner in which Peter chose to say his goodbye. I would like to emphasize this point because it was so representative of Pete's character (a theme that will undoubtedly come up again and again).

At times, most of us have asked ourselves that morbid question "What would you do if the plane you were on was going to crash? I typically would respond promptly with something involving me defecating in my pants! How did our beloved Peter choose to handle this not only very same question but physical circumstance? With one arm tightly wrapped around his wife Sue and baby Christine and the other propping the phone against his ear, Peter managed to inform his father "It would be quick, it would be OK, Goodbye and that he loved him." WOW!!! Let us pause and reflect ….That people, is certainly and immensely profound. His mother expressed to me "how brave your friend was" and despite everything in my mind at that moment, NOTHING could tell me anything was more truthful then when I heard those words shudder from Eunice Hanson's mouth. Our friend was indeed brave. He faced the death of his family and himself with such stature, character and pure nobleness my jaw remains a gaping hole on my face. What kind of a person that is not a paid actor can handle himself so? My buddy Peter could!

Peter's character shined right up until the moment of his death under the most extraordinary and stressful of circumstances. THIS MUST BE ACKNOWLEDGED! Do I need whisper another word to vouch for his character or will this suffice? !!!

I believe everyone has known and loved Pete for the uniqueness he exhibited as he carved his path through life. This path was wide and long with all the breadth and depth a person could hope for and despite the age he left us, his experiences could rival the likes of a well-traveled person at the twilight of their life. Peter was not notably different because of any one trait. He was an aggregate of many different facets of life: experience, passion, emotion, devotion and they all shaped him into the person we knew as Pete. It was the combination of everything he knew and how he chose to take in and give back whatever life was serving at the time that made him so special. I like to think that he was on a slightly different plain, a higher one yet! This plain was not simply based upon intellectual prowess, his ability to express himself, outlook nor philosophical alignment. It was a myriad of elements that made up our brother Peter. He was able to posses and maintain all of these elements and keep them in synchronous balance. This is why so many were fond of Peter.

Where did he acquire much of this wisdom, profound insight, knowledge and passion to learn and make something right even in a world where there is so much wrong? Just have a lengthy conversation with his parents and you will soon find out that in many ways the expression "That apple did not fall far from the tree" applies. Eunice and Lee Hanson brought us into this world the wonderful gift of Peter and for that I am truly grateful. As a kid, and not usually aware of such subtleties, I was impressed with their attitudes, outlook and wisdom on a variety of subjects. I quickly learned where Peter got the framework and underpinning for his personality, character and opinions that were so readily available and offered in a passive or aggressive way depending upon the temperature of the conversation and the particular circumstance. Peter's father once said to me, in regular discourse, "Anyone that becomes angry with their child because of the person they choose to love is a fool." I may have not offered his words verbatim but the message that was given remains intact. These words were profound to me. I did not ask to hear them yet they were so pertinent to the subject and the method in which they were delivered it gave me great insight into my friend Peter. I know this is a roundabout way to learn about your close friend but so be it.

I had the privilege to know Peter since I can remember being a little boy in Elementary school. At an early age, Peter and his family lived abroad on the island of Singapore off Mainland China's coast. So long ago, I recall Pete's story of how the ice cream man outside of his school on that Asian island was executed for selling marijuana...ahh!!! As a little boy, Peter was fully aware of his surroundings even in such a foreign land. This was just a part of what molded him into the man he became.

This was not his only experience of Asia. I remember Peter's trip to India to visit, I believe, his uncle who was an artisan with a trade name "Suffering Moses." Remember that slide show of that trip we were given in his basement? I still remember the little box he gave me as a gift upon his return.

Relevant to slide shows, I remember how Peter embraced photography. Just as many people expressed how Pete went about doing things to the max, photography was no different. Just to let you all know, Peter Hanson, who loved his friends dearly, has a photograph collection that can be envied by all of us and probably spans 18 years. You would be impressed what Peter was able to capture and equally impressed how we was able to hold on to and treasure them all of these years. Boy, would I appreciate the opportunity to thumb through it!

It is so ironic, that the media refers to him as a "business man." We used to call young enterprising Peter this very same thing as a goof knowing very well that there was so much more to the guy. I remember selling holographic stickers and other various trinkets with him on roller blades (when they were just barely available in some esoteric store) in the park during the Hartford CT. shows. We did rather well except that moment I found myself coming around after a pretty bad fall and this homeless man trying to "yell" me back into consciousness.

Illustrating Peter's intelligence is useless to all that new him. I wanted to share with you some of the things that Peter chose to do with such an intellect that could, perhaps, be viewed as unconventional, the high road or even the more difficult path.

Here is a guy that graduates from a University, with more brainpower, drive and determination than most. Does Peter immediately attempt to acquire a prestigious position or even one with a most promising future unattainable to most but certainly doable for him? No, instead he chooses to be a Photo Copier Salesman, the most brutal and challenging sales career that can parallel the vacuum cleaner guy knocking door to door. While living in PA, I had a friend who endeavored in the same field and I learned to respect these people giving it their all in such a tough profession. The turnover in this market is immense. You make a living on pure commission and continually experience rejection. Imagine the luck someone would have vying for my business when I am extremely busy, already have a copier and my contract is up in a year and a half. Suffice it to say, it is a very grueling job. Over one holiday I had to ask Peter why he chose such self-torment for it was plainly obvious he was capable of succeeding in another more hospitable field. For Peter, it was part of his master plan. He told me "Greg, if I can succeed selling copiers and stick it out for 2-3 years than I can sell anything and will be prepared for whatever comes my way!" He described the challenges he encountered on a daily basis. At one place of business, in the entrance of the lobby, they had a cardboard cutout of a salesman carrying his brief case with a big red circle and a slash over it stating "Absolutely NO Solicitation." I asked Peter "What did you do Pete?" His response: "I marched right past that sign and got my appointment! They are not allowed to do that! Without sales this country would not work and come to a screeching halt!" (He exclaimed) His answer was so Peter and for those of you that new him intimately, you know exactly what I mean. It is these brief conversations with Peter that continually race through my mind and I hope people do not mind my need to express them.

People always gravitated toward Peter. During our early high school years Peter would visit me at my parentís house in Easton. I will never forget the time he could not manage to go downstairs and share our ritualistic Sunday pasta with my family for he had other passions to pursue! At our house, my brother David, as did many, gravitated towards Peter and before I knew it, they too became the best of friends and eventually, even better. That was the power, the aura, the charisma Peter possessed. Through Peter, I was able to enjoy a better relationship with my brother and his pier group Seth Ginsburg, Rich Gordon, Kurt Lucas, Nick Connelly and the list continues.

As the school year grew long, and with summer approaching, we often found ourselves frequenting Everydays (a little café in Bethel) every day instead of first and maybe second period (I'll take the "quicky" of the day) followed by some Frisbee. After school, jumping at devils glen was another great pastime. Bahahaheeha!!!.

So many phases I recall: that safari hat, tie-dyes, the red compact equipped with the Nakamichi, poster collecting, knotty dread, vegetarian feasts, Indian restaurants, (especially Kismet), Greer Coleman, Bernadette, those infamous red pipes on his ceiling in his basement apartment on Park Drive in Boston, "Don't go to close to The Reeds," his parakeet, learning to mix drinks like Blue Hawaiians down at Bourbon Street in Stamford where his sister worked, a Chrysler patron to the end, Blue Grass Festivals, a tape collection unmatched, show after show (recording New Haven 84? together), parties in the basement (God how accommodating the Hanson's were with all the traffic and noise!), small gatherings in the basement for that matter, ultimate Frisbee, hikes in Devil's Den, Max Creek, Sleeping out for tickets in one of Boston's cold winter months and Peter eventually seeking refuge in the subway that had a more hospitable temperature only to be locked in its bowels by an iron gate ("How stupid was that?" Peter asked himself) meanwhile, Mike Reath and I curled up in a ball in some random person's van shaking and using each other for body warmth, Seeing our friend Danny Labich play out in Boston together, rummaging through the record store Chris Clark worked at in Kenmore Square (Public Enemy's "She Watches Channel Zero" still echoes in my head) hearing Chris Clark play that whaling harp player from a band we later found out called themselves Blues Traveler, Zachar Husien & John McLaughlinís Making music (zegazegaaa zegazeget "Quit it Greg!"), The banana bread joke that sent me into shear hysterics so much so I required a good reprimanding by my buddy Pete since I could simply not stop laughing, coming home for holidays and having an incredible conversation with him & Sue at the road house, bonfires down dirt roads.

The bonfires trigger yet another recollection of Peter. At our ten-year high school reunion so many people showed up at the Spinning Wheel, they had to turn us away for lack of room. Peter yells out, with perfect timing, in the parking lot when we all stood wondering what to do next "Hey everyone! Lets go build a fire in the woods!" Laughter abounded!

In Worcester Massachusetts, after a concert, Mike Reath, Mike Musto and myself found our selves stranded since my car was impounded for parking at the Cumberland Farms near the Centrum. It took some resourcefulness and quite a bit of walking for us to find the impound lot at Pat's Service Station. There we met a very evil spirited young person in charge of the lot (and my car) who chose to taunt and mock our predicament since we had no money to get us out of such a bind. He inquired if we had any jewelry or something of value and even eyeballed the silver chain Jen Stott had given me. He was only tormenting us though and he eventually kicked us out in the street where it was very cold with nothing but our T-shirts. Mike, Mike and myself huddled in the limited refuge an open flared out phone booth could afford and we called my parents' lake house in Charlton Mass, where all of our friends would soon rendezvous. Its a bird Its a plane, no, it was Pete Hanson that volunteered to come all the way back and rescue us from the clutches of that complete asshole, our shivering torment and not to mention put up the cash. When he arrived that evil creature that had power over my car started in on Pete and let us just say that as he always handled thing in such a profound and at times unusual way, he carefully selected some choice words none of the rest of us could muster and we were off and promptly continuing our grand old time together. Thanks Peter! Thanks for taking us out of the cold, thanks for rescuing us from that evil man's capture, thanks for doing what you did so instinctively and naturally.

I, along with many, will miss Peter, Sue and Christine. I know they are with us and hear our cries. Allow me to say that I love you guys very much, miss you and will try to live and carry a piece of each one of you until it is my time to pass and when it becomes my time, I will readily greet you with all the same love that I feel at this very moment as well as the love that will forever continue to grow inside.

Goodbye my friends
Love Greg
Peter, A Very Special Person...

Peter was the real deal. He did not take crap from people, and told it like it was. He was a great host, and enjoyed making sure everyone had a good time. Sue was wonderful as well, and Christine was a beautiful and happy little girl with great loving parents. I last saw Peter in October of 2000. We saw Phil and Friends in Boston. Peter never changed, and never sold out his beliefs. Good Bye Peter, Sue, and Christine.

You will never be forgotten,
Richard Gordon

I met Peter when I was fifteen years old, in Redding, CT. Being older, and far wiser, than me, he chaperoned me and a couple other kids to my first Grateful Dead concert in New Jersey. We continued for the next few years, to go see music together, and travel around to catch many more Grateful Dead concerts, and become better friends.

Peter's spirit is one of the strongest and purist I have encountered in my entire life. Peter and his family have entered into an existence where they are immersed in profound love. For life here on Earth is but a moment, Spirit is eternal.

Nancy Sepe

Our Friend, Peter

So many have shared their thoughts and feelings about Peter in such eloquent and articulate ways. Your memories have opened me up and allowed me to better experience my own feelings. I have tried to do the same, but some how, each time I read what I have written, it seems to miss the mark. Nevertheless, here are some of my thoughts, feelings, and memories.

I lived in New York for 15 years and now live just three miles outside of Manhattan. So, many people whom I know have been touched closely by what happened on September 11. Starting almost immediately, the telephone calls and email have been coming. Always with the same question/statement: "So everyone's okay?" And, inevitably I must respond that, no, everyone is not okay. Christine, Sue, and Peter are not okay, and so neither am I. Since this all happened I have had a rush of memories come through my mind of Peter and his family.

Let me start near the end. This summer, on June 22 to be precise, my wife Amy and I, along with our dog, Sadie, set out from our home in New Jersey to visit Peter, Sue, and Christine. Peter and I had long been friends who had kept up with email and telephone conversations, but we were guilty of allowing life to get in the way of actually spending time together. About a year or so prior to our visit I had seen Peter in New York, and he told me that it was important to him that I visit because he wanted Christine to grow-up knowing me as Uncle Seth. This request made me feel special, but as time passed and we had yet to get together, it also weighed on me. So, after several aborted attempts to get together, we were finally making it happen.

Peter's home is beautiful. It is set on a large piece of land that is beautifully landscaped (largely by Peter). And, there is no denying that Sue and Peter were wonderful hosts. Not only did they serve us a wonderful meal upon our arrival, they also banished Rocky, their cat, to the basement for the weekend to accommodate Sadie. We offered to leave Sadie behind, but Christine found this option unacceptable. In fact, Amy and I were apparently secondary from her perspective - she told her class at school that "a doggy was coming to visit her for the weekend," no mention of us. Though she eventually mastered the name Amy, we were mostly referred to as "Doggy's Mommy and Doggy's Daddy."

Immediately upon our arrival, Christine was out the door with a biscuit in hand for Sadie, and they were fast friends from that point on. Christine watched every move Sadie made, so much so that by the next morning she noticed a certain expression that Amy and I always thought looked like a smile, and she looked at me and said "why is Doggy laughing?" Sue, of course, just said that dogs don't laugh, but I knew what she meant. That morning was very special. Peter and Amy were still sleeping to recover from a bit too much to drink the night before, and Sue was busy making pancakes for everyone.

So, Christine and I went for a walk with Sadie. She was a remarkable girl - happy, playful, inquisitive, warm, and full of love. I really felt like we were bonding. That is, until I said one wrong word . . . "no." She did not take well to that word, but, much as I wanted to keep her happy, I couldn't yield. You see, Christine thought that it would be fun to close herself in the refrigerator. Well, you know how it goes. She cried, Sue consoled her, and soon all was forgotten and we were friends again - after all, I was the doggy's daddy, how could she stay mad.

That weekend, we went canoeing on a nearby river, we ate, we drank, and we talked and talked and talked. I met many of their neighbors, all of who seemed glad to see Pete and Christine walking up and down their street. I spent time talking to Sue and learning of her fascinating work; she genetically altered a mouse to determine the effect of a particular gene on the development of HIV - I don't know about anyone else, but to me that is simply amazing. Yet, despite her obvious talents, among her science peers, she was seen as a slacker, someone not on the fast track. Why? She decided that it was more important to spend time raising Christine than to pursue some prestigious fellowship.

She was undoubtedly a special person. And, she would have to be, who else could marry Peter. I mean, it takes a special kind of person to understand why it was necessary to have empty boxes of Wheaties stacked floor to ceiling in their home. It seems that someone at Pete's office was throwing away his collection of old Wheaties boxes. Pete could not bear to let this opportunity pass, "I'm telling you, these things are gonna be worth a lot of money someday." So, there, half wishing they weren't in her house and half in love with the person that couldn't let them go, stood Sue explaining to me why she had stacks of someone else's discarded cereal boxes piled to the ceiling in her daughter's playroom.

That was Pete, though, wasn't it. It's strange to continually see him described in news accounts as "a businessman from Boston," but, then he always was a businessman. It was part of his nature. Peter always had a sense of what would be valuable, what was worth saving and collecting. He was quite entrepreneurial from early on and always successful. Nevertheless, I guess the reason it always sounds wrong to me when I hear him described as "a businessman from Boston" is that that was just a small part of a much larger person - the person that I knew.

When I met Peter, in 1983 I think it was, he was a freshman, I guess about 14 years old. Greg Santo introduced his brother Dave and me to Pete because we were deadheads, and Pete was too. From the start, all he wanted was to get his hands on some bootleg tapes. And, I must confess that Dave and I must take the blame for giving him those first few tapes that started that legendary collection.

The fact that Peter had so many Dead tapes was not significant because of the breadth of the collection itself, nor because of its meticulous organization (date, venue, set list, source, generation, who knows what else). Similarly it was not even the fact that Peter went beyond merely trading tapes, but also began to record shows himself. The collection was legendary for all of those reasons. It was, however, what the collection said about Peter that was important. Peter always had his own unique perspective on a situation. With the Grateful Dead, and with other things (like cereal boxes), his nature as an intense collector was exhibited. But, with all things that he did, he did them intensely and with passion. So, the famed tape collection is but just one example of that passion.

We shared so many times together, some just average days, others important moments in our lives. Soon after meeting, Peter became an integral part of my life. At that point, my junior year of high school, I was part of a close group of five friends that in addition to me included Dave Santo, Rich Gordon, Curt Lucas, and Nick Connolly. Soon, however, that group had a sixth member. Peter was one of us from the start. Almost from the beginning, whatever we did, Peter was a part of it.

Peter spent so much time with us that, by his sophomore year, I suggested to him that if he didn't start making some friends in his own grade, he might be sorry when the rest of us graduated at the end of the year. Peter gave it some thought and decided to take up my suggestion, well, sort of. In typical fashion, Peter had soon managed to persuade his parents to remodel their basement into the ideal party room and transformed himself into one of the school's most well-known students. I suppose that I should have expected little else from Peter - he didn't do things half way.

Despite all of my fond memories of Peter, don't get me wrong, I also remember the Peter who didn't always no when to keep his mouth shut, and who maybe got into one too many arguments with the wrong person. And I remember how he complained nonstop for weeks about the blisters he got from doing some landscaping work with Dave and me - who would have guessed that he would later make this his primary hobby. And if you ever had the pleasure to spend time with him around Dave, you will remember how easily aggravated he could be. Dave discovered this trait early on and had endless hours of enjoyment teasing Pete about just about anything you could imagine. Pete, ever the passionate one, would always take it to heart until he would finally realize what was happening, and then he would really get mad and end the debate with some choice words.

After I graduated from Barlow, I was in college nearby at New York University and Peter visited on a regular basis. So much so that many of the people I met there remember Peter well and were saddened by the news of his loss. One friend told me that he and Peter snuck off together to a bar at the rehearsal part of my wedding, sounds like Pete to me. And, when Peter went to college, the trips to Boston began. First, sleeping on the floor of his dorm-room and later camped out in his apartment near Fenway (Hey Pete, Go Yankees!). Always one for finding cool things to do and for being on top of what was new and up and coming, on one trip up there in 1988 or 1989 he took me to this little bar to see this new band he liked. We had a great time and the show was really good. I remember asking afterwards what the name of the band was. He told me they were called "Phish."

During those years, the summers usually found us back in Easton. One year, we worked together at Bourbon Street, the restaurant then owned by Mark, his future brother-in-law, and managed by his sister, Cathy. I was a waiter, not a very good one, and Pete was a bartender - we all know he was good at that. We had a few very fun evenings behind the bar after the restaurant closed - maybe not our smartest choice given the 20 mile drive back to Easton from the restaurant in Stamford, but fun all the same.

Cathy and Mark looked out for us that summer, but most of the time it was little brother Pete who worried about Cathy. "I worry about her, man. I really do." He could never quite put his finger on just what he was worried about, and in the end I think it was just his caring nature that made him concerned for his big sister. I used to tease him about how he would be when he had a daughter of his own - Christine had no idea what she was in for. Because, believe me, as liberal has he may have been politically, and despite his onetime dreadlocks and all of the rest of his colorful past, being a boy at the doorstep to pickup Christine for a date would not be an enviable spot if Pete answered the door - can you imagine how many questions he would ask!

Later on, I went to law school in New York and Peter, who loved New York, continued to visit often. I remember on one of his visits he arrived with an attractive girl, and one with whom he seemed to be getting along - that was new. Of course, the girl was Sue. Soon after it seemed, he told me they were getting married and asked if I would be his best man - I was deeply touched, honored. Peter had always meant a great deal to me, and I knew that he valued our friendship, but it was truly special to have him affirm his feelings in that way.

The night before his wedding, he and I had dinner together in Fairfield. No doubts. Nervous? A little, but he knew he wanted to be married to Sue. Of course, the wedding was spectacular. Set in a rustic field in Easton with Andrew and the boys providing the musical entertainment, nothing could have more completely epitomized a celebration for Peter.

Yes, distance and the feeling that there would always be another opportunity to see each other kept us apart more and more as the years went by, but we always managed to keep in touch and share our lives. Now, I remember little things. The way he would always tell his mother about something he was off to do at the very last minute, leaving her hardly a chance to discuss it with him, and rush out the door saying "I love you Mom," in a way that foreclosed all further discussion - that was her Peter, and while she would shake her head and hope for the best, she knew he had a good head on his shoulders and he would take care of himself - and, most of the time, he did.

In the 18 years I knew him, he grew, but he never really changed. My mind keeps going back to that weekend we spent together this June. We took a lot of walks. Peter grilled dinner for us. We talked. On Saturday afternoon, after canoeing, Amy and Sue decided that they wanted to go strawberry picking. Christine had other plans, however. She fell asleep and her stroller couldn't make it down to the strawberry field - Peter and I would have to sit and watch Christine, "Sorry Sue," he told her. "Yeah right," the look on her face said in response, "you're getting exactly what you want, fresh strawberries picked for you while you sit and bullshit with your friend." And, with a skill honed from years of practice on his Mom, the look on his face said "I love you, Sue." Pete won again.

Pete told me about his relationship with Sue. Why he loved her. What he did that drove her crazy. He talked about when they would have another child. Of course, we planned to see each other again soon, this time at our home in New Jersey. I still can't quite believe that that won't happen.

Clearly, this outrageous act of violence that took our friend feels senseless and hurtful, yet, at the same time, there is some symmetry to it. Peter always wanted to be in the heart of whatever was happening. Some of us preferred to stand by on the edges and watch, not Peter, he always had to be right in it. Peter loved New York, but not on any ordinary day. It had to be the day after Thanksgiving - the most crowded of the year. I would tell him that he was crazy. His response, "no way, you don't know what you're missing. It's so great being there with all the people and the energy - that's the best time to be in New York." If Pete had to be involved in this situation, then it had to be right at its center, in the plane that we would all see over and over again. I can hear his voice telling me all about it.

Peter touched many people, and I am proud to be one of them. As time goes by, I know that I will think of him often. But for now, in the words of a song that I know he loved, there's "nothin' left to do but smile, smile, smile . . . He's gone." Good bye Peter, I love you.

Seth

A few weeks ago, we had the good fortune of sharing a weekend with the Hansons as a guest of their home in Groton, Massachusetts. What a terrific time we shared with them! I am so grateful for this. I know that ourselves and many others fell a bit out of touch with Pete since he settled down up in Massachussetts with his family. I'd just like to share some thoughts and memories from our recent visit with Peter, Sue, and Christine:

Pete, Sue, and Christine lived in a gorgeous house they had built for themselves several years ago in Groton, Mass., a quiet, wooded town about 40 minutes north of Boston...... remarkably similar to Easton. Peter had been spending a great deal of his free time working around his yard, planting
trees/shrubs and generally maintaining the grounds. He said that this was his "new hobby" nowadays and he really enjoyed it. He mentioned that he was thinking of "dropping everything and becoming an arborist/gardener". Obviously, Pete never lost that free-spirit that all of us knew and loved so much!!!! Many of you may have noticed how beautiful he made his grounds look in the picture of his house that Greg sent out recently. Pete really threw himself into his newfound hobby, buying books and manuals on trees and gardening. But Peter always threw himself into anything he was passionate about though... didn't he? Anyway, besides working for a software company in the Boston area, Pete
found a very happy and peaceful life spending all of his time with his family and working around his yard.

On our ride up to Groton, Peter asked that we call him when we were a half-hour away. We'd later find out that he and Sue had a full-blown Boston-style lobster dinner and clambake awaiting our arrival that they wanted to start before we got there. When we arrived, Sue was just putting the finishing touches on our "kickoff dinner". Instantly, we could all feel the unbelievable warmth of such wonderful people. We had such a great night with Pete and Sue (Christine was put to bed before we got there). After dinner, Peter walked us around his house and yard he was so proud of. He told us he'd made a bonfire pit that he hadn't christened yet, so myself, Mike Musto, and Pete pulled up a few chairs and we christened the bonfire pit. We talked for hours around the fire on that Friday night. Much of the time we just listened to Pete talk. That's always the way it was with Pete....... he had so much to say that was so interesting, humorous, and profound. I can't remember everything we spoke about that night. Boy, I sure remember a lot of laughs though. A whole lotta laughs!!!!!!

It was such fun catching up on both old times & new times with Pete that night. Peter opened up a lot to us about where his life was now and his memories of the past that all of us will cherish forever. Peter started to tell us about an area of his life that hasn't been quite the same since he left Easton. He said he was never able to make the kinds of trusting and sincere friends that he was surrounded by in the days when we all saw Peter on such a regular basis. Peter touched us immeasurably.......... and I think we all meant so much to Pete. I know this from the words he spoke that night around the fire. Sue would tell me later that weekend that "You don't know how excited Pete has been that his buddies from "home" were coming up to see him. He's been so excited for weeks."

The following day we woke up to Christine...... simply a priceless little angel....... full of life, running all over the house, singing her ABC's while covering Mike Musto with children's stickers from head-to-toe. Sue already had a full breakfast on the grill by the time we made it downstairs. What a wonderful, wonderful person Sue was. As thoughtful and sincere a person as I've ever met in my life. Peter sure found himself a good person to spend all of his days with. We jumped into their minivan and headed for Boston...... Peter behind the wheel. Pete may have been a salesman...... and wanted to become a gardener...... but I swear he was a born tour guide for the city of Boston. He took us everywhere that day!!!!!!" He demanded that we all get on the swan boats and take a ride. "You just can't visit the city of Boston for the first time and not ride the swan boats" he'd tell Vicky. Plus, Christine LOVED the ducks. She fed them on our swan boat ride, chased them around the shores of the pond, and giggled at them when they'd come close. This little girl was an angel!!!!!

Pete brought us all over the town that day. We ended up in Cambridge at a Korean Barbeque restaurant..... Sue's favorite. We'd never had Korean food and they were so excited to turn us onto it. We had a super dinner, drove back up to Groton, and talked and laughed the night away once again at their home. Later that night, Peter extended his generosity by allowing me to hand-pick 12 of my all-time favorite Grateful Dead tapes from his master collection that he valued so greatly. He hand picked me a few of his favorites too saying "I just can't let you leave here without these 2 or 3
other tapes. They're my all-time favorites." As those that used to follow the Dead like Pete might relate, it was such a treat. I had to promise Pete I'd return them swiftly. I truly wish I could do that now.

On Sunday, Pete shuffled us off through Lexington and Concord...... briefing us on all the historical significances of the Old North Bridge, The Battle Road, and Walden Pond. We ate lunch together at a little bar and grille called The Concord Grille. Afterward, we all hugged each other goodbye & made a pact that we were going to all meet in Vermont in early October for a foliage getaway.

I don't think any of us can mentally grasp and understand why these monsters murdered our friend Pete and his family. I know our hearts are aching big time for Mr. and Mrs. Hanson, and Sue's family. Sue was so excited to finally bring Christine out to her home in Pasadena to meet her grandmother for the first time. Sue had lost her Mother and Father previously. Don't forget to say a prayer for Sue's grandmother. This poor, poor woman has had to witness her daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter...... three generations!!!!!!!!! ...... perish in her own lifetime. God bless her!!!

I just want everyone to know that Peter Hanson was at a very happy time of his life. He came right out and told us that. The love between those 3 was awesome. You could really feel it. He loved being a Father & adored that little girl. He left this world way too soon, but I am proud of where Pete managed to get in his lifetime. We'll all miss the Hell out of him..... but I have faith that he and his family are somewhere better than this world. Peter always seemed to be a guy that ended up right at the center of any debate or moral situation that came his way. It's the way he loved to live his life. So strong in his beliefs, I am sure he would feel awful and have so much to say about everything that has happened in these senseless few days. But Peter went out of this world not quietly..... but right in the middle of it all. Right in the middle of the most important incident of our lifetime. I know that someday good things will come out of this god-forbidden mess and we will always remember Peter, Sue, and Christine as 3 beautiful people who lost their lives for the cause.

Mike & Vicky Reath, Mike Musto: 9/13/01

Although i did not know peter or his family, i was on the '87 spring tour (my very first) and remember the stickers and the saying well "This must be heaven-Spring Tour '87" and remember how much of an impact it had and how it really was a reason why my happiness and joy for the dead and all things similar, spawned on that tour.

I also was a New Yorker for 7 years and happen to be in the city and at the Jamiroquai concert the night before the tragedy. I was awake and witnessing most of the incident from the roof of an 18 story building, just 30 short blocks north of the towers. As the plane hit and while the building crumbled i was struck with an unbelievable realization of the lost of life at that moment. I also remember the thoughts of those I know who were working in and around the buiding, brothers and sisters of the highest rank, and just could not believe what i was witnessing.

Overwhelmed with this entire event, i have submerged myself in the information regarding the disaster, and remember clearly seeing the names of the Hanson's and realized it was a young family, and how tragic this continues to be. And now i find that, as profound as the correlation, someone whom has had a beautiful and positive effect on my life, is amongst the victims, with his wife and child.

The nightmare that is this entire event continues, and i send my love out to all the brothers and sisters in the world, and extend a hearty thank you for all the beauty you have given me in my life. And may God (whichever God this may be in your life) keep you safe and grant you peace in this terrible time.
Love to all of you and remember that music may help the pain.

Scott Reese

I remember the day I met Peter. It was in December, 1985, and I was eighteen. He and I both were ravenous collectors of Grateful Dead tapes, and we instantly bonded in the brotherhood of like minded souls. I remember Pete had a lot of faith in himself, and tended not to rely on the fabric of society for his foundation. Pete was all about making independent decisions. Not to say he didn't like people. On the contrary, he was very social, and he threw some great parties, like that one on New Year's Eve '87 when his parents were out of town. Whoops. I don't think I was supposed to mention that one.

In the Spring of '86 I caught a ride up to Portland ME with Peter driving his parents' car. We had reservations at a very central location that Pete got through AAA. But when we got there they demanded $200 deposit and they wouldn't accept Peter's parents' credit card # that he had reserved the room with. He didn't actually have a card with him, and certainly none of us did, either, and so we had to pool our spending money for the deposit, and Pete was not happy. He kinda slammed the door as we exited the lobby, and about ten minutes later, as I was making good use of the lavatory, the management asked us to leave, giving us our money back. Like Richard says, Pete didn't put up with any bull, and this was just the kind of injustice that he wouldn't stand for. We were all much happier afterward and ended up in much plusher accomodations in S. Portland. The Gestalt of that trip was driving into town on Friday afternoon, with the brand spanking new Chinese New Year's tape playing, Drumz --> Hand Jive with the Neville brothers, sun shining warm on a cool day.

That summer I caught up to Peter and the gang on the Fourth of July, in Buffalo, NY, and rode with them in the rented station wagon to D.C. I think there were 8 of us packed in that ride, and that's a great memory I have, my feet hanging over the tailgate, with all the windows open, Pete at the wheel in his outback-safari type hat, stopping to take pictures of ridiculous touristy places. And then there was the two shows in D.C., which I still remember very clearly... eating gyros before we dropped one of the crew off at his summer internship ... saving the Darien High class president from some temporary insanity, one of us being The Man around those pretty, parched girls with his water spray bottle, and locking the keys in the car which Pete was surprisingly nonplused about.

The next spring Dave Santo, Peter, and I all sent away for the legendary Grateful Dead Tour Books, the holy grail of concertgoing. It included a ticket for every concert on the East coast tour, from Virginia to Chicago. More times than not, we were in the 7th row, in front of Phil. We were "On Tour", just drifting, meeting for the first time many of the beautiful people we would stay friends with for the rest of our lives. In Philadelphia we got a knock at our hotel door, and Kate, Jakob, and a third person, some kids from NYC, asked if they could stay with us, I've often wondered if that Jakob guy was some famous musician's son. One day in the city of brotherly love, Dave and I were subjected to one of Peter's camera excursions, and we took on the olde historical square. I can still hear his words of motivation, there was no reason not to go. If it weren't for Peter, I would never have seen the Liberty Bell, and now the two are synonymous to me. "Freedom From, or Freedom To Be - it's all the same to you, it's all the same to me, it's being free". At the time, Peter was working at Another Dimension, in New Haven. It was a Holographics store, and previously we had all sold hologram rose stickers for gas money at the shows. For this tour, however, Peter had a thousand stickers printed up, with a dancing bear in the middle and the phrase "This Must Be Heaven - Spring Tour '87" around the edges. That really made it official, because selling your own independently made sticker on tour was where it was at, and we had a good one. We flew out to Chicago, and it was a lot cheaper if Pete made the return trip a day later (Pete usually handled the itinerary). Fortuitously. the Dead added an extra show. We decided not to pay for a hotel room that night, and we split up, Dave and I finally ending up meeting a new friend, Tim, and sleeping in his microbus out in the hotel parking lot. Pete, it turns out, hooked into the most raging tourhead room in the hotel, getting to hear the tape immediately and even staying for free due to a billing mixup at the desk! I gotta admit, I was sometimes jealous of the way he could sniff out good fortune.

We grew apart after he moved up to Boston. He loved the energy up there and made it his home. I also remember the last time I saw him, in '89 on a trip to visit my girlfriend in Cambridge. I remember the apartment he shared, those red pipes, the tan chair I sat in, and Peter. I still remember the way he looked, and, seeing the picture above, I notice how little he really had changed. Sure, this is a picture of an older man, but it's unmistakably Peter. I had a dream Tuesday night, as I was pretty sure I would under the circumstances, when a soul I know has passed on. I was visited by an old brother who wanted to shake my hand and say goodbye. The memory I came away with is this person left no attachment to the world and was going forward with complete acceptance. From what I heard, this was the sentiment that Pete expressed in his last minutes on Earth.

Peter Hanson, you touched my life for the better, and though you're among the people who I never see, you will be dearly missed.

Jason Neely
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Following are some lyrics that seem to really hit home:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"And if the music starts before I get there
dance without me.
You dance so gracefully.
I really think I'll be O.K.
They've taken their toll,
these latter days."

-Detweiler / Over the Rhine

You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been
A place that has to be believed to be seen
You could have flown away
A singing bird in an open cage
Who will only fly - only fly for freedom
And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
You can only take so much
Walk on

Who's to say where the wind will take you
Who's to know what it is will break you
I don't know which way the wind will blow
Who's to know when the time has come around
Don't want to see you cry
I know that this is not goodbye
In Summer I can taste the salt in the sea
There's a kite blowing out of control on a breeze
I wonder what's gonna happen to you
You wonder what has happened to me
I'm a man, I'm not a child
A man who sees
The shadow behind your eyes
Did I waste it
Not so much I couldn't taste it
Life should be fragrant
Rooftop to the basement
The last of the rock stars
When hip-hop drove the big cars
In the time when new media
Was the big idea
That was the big idea - U2

I want to say to my sisters & my brothers
Keep the faith
When the storm flies & the wind blows
Go on at a steady pace
When the battle is fought and the victories won
We can all shout together, we have overcome
We'll talk to the father in the sun
When we make it to the promised land
If we walk together little children
We don't ever have to worry
Through this world of trouble
We've got to love one another
Let us take our fellow man by the hand
Try to help him to understand
We can all be together
For ever and ever
When we make it to the promised land
Our bible reads
Thou shall not be afraid
Of the terror by night
Nor the arrow that flies by day
Nor for the pestilence
That walketh in the dark
Nor for the destruction
That waiteth in the noonday hour
This world is not our home
We are only passing through
Our trail is all made up
Way beyond the blue
Let us do the very best that we can
While we're travelin' through this land
We can all be together
Shakin' a hand
When we make it to the promised land - Charles Johnson

Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! O long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wiped out their foul footstep's pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner forever shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!