This is a Love Letter

wedding reworked

This morning I dreamed of someone I haven’t seen in over thirty years: Pete Doyle.

In my dream, Pete was all mixed up with the actor Henry Cavill, who is a whole ‘nother story, but I knew it was Pete. He was in another bedroom in my old house, down near my dad’s bedroom, but upstairs, in the attic. He was going to buy the house once we had moved all of our things out of it, but as usual, I was behind in my laundry….

I met Pete one spring (I think) at South Street Seaport in the late ’70s. He was part of the pier crew; I was a volunteer docent for the museum, and still in high school. Sometimes our paths would cross, sometimes not, one time I got to go see the inside of the apartment he shared with a couple of pier crew guys. Pete was always a gentleman, and never made a pass at me.

The last time I saw Pete, he was getting ready for a date (not with me), his dark brown curls still damp from the shower, black jeans on, shirt almost buttoned. Pete had green-brown eyes, and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

He smelled of fresh shower and Paco Rabanne. No one has been able to or been allowed to wear Paco Rabanne since.

I was lamenting about some late-teenage/early twenties angst. Time, of course, has erased that drama from my memory: It amazes me how many earth-shattering crises are faded out or completely erased by time. But Pete said to me that family life is real life and the working life is our illusion. I’ve carried that with me close to forever now.

I knew Pete was from Massachusetts, around Martha’s Vineyard. I knew he was an aspiring writer. I knew he had worked on something with Chuck Burris — yes, “The Gong Show” Chuck Burris. Pete Doyle, however, is a fairly common name, and I’m not a highly skilled Googlegirl to do more than a couple of search terms at a time.

I miss Pete.

I’d like to know what’s become of him, and if life treated him kindly. I’d like him to know just how much of an impact he made on this one human being, so many years ago. If you had a Pete in your life, let them know they impacted you. If you know my Pete, you’re blessed, and tell him to drop me a line.


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