Sunday, December 17, 2023
Dear Mary, my deepest and most heartfelt sympathies and condolences to you during this difficult time. I am so very sorry for your loss. Peter was a great man and I’ll miss him deeply. As you know, although we’ve always been family, Peter and I spent a lot of time together over the last 10 years. We had many lunches (and some breakfasts!) and met often to work on sales strategies for new projects and ventures. He was never short on creative ideas and was never short on stories of his days in Vietnam, or Ski Patrol, or his childhood with his brothers and cousins, and so much more including his many decades of sales experiences.
I always thoroughly enjoyed every story he shared no matter how many times he shared them. He was a cop at heart and often reminded me by showing me his Retired Military Police service badge. In everything he did he was always straight to the point – even if it meant he had to hit us over the head with the point, he would always get his point across. He had a strong will, which likely helped him survive his two tours in Vietnam and his battle against cancer. He was perceptive and sharp – not much got past him and anyone would be hard pressed to pull a fast one on him. I’d sometimes ask him how he figured out certain key pieces of information that he’d relay in his stories from his service, and he’d say although he didn’t have any fancy university degrees, he did have three degrees: an AB, an AG and an ANG (Ain’t Been, Ain’t Going, and Ain’t Never Going!). And he would usually close that out by saying that he got those degrees through the school of hard knocks.
He had a lot of expressions that I came to learn, like “I’ve got bad news and I’ve got worse news, which do you want first.” Or, if someone was giving him a hard time, he’d say to them, “I’ve got one foot in the grave and one foot on a banana peel, what do you want from me.” And he had certain stories he’d share often, like when his Mom used to ask him “Peter, are you smoking anymore?” and he’d say “No Ma, and I’m not smoking any less either.” He was a phenomenal storyteller with a witty sense of humour.
He knew a lot about the Vasilkioti family history and told a lot of stories about growing up in Montreal and the family roots back in Russia. My sister Adria and her husband Brad even have a recording of him telling some of those amazing stories over brunch, along with tales of the Khaki Mafia in Vietnam!
Peter would often call me, and if I didn’t pick up the first time, he’d call a few more times that same day and leave messages like “Mark, if you were my partner in Vietnam, I’d be dead (i.e. waiting for you to pick up a call).” And I’d always laugh when I heard it. Unfortunately, none of our projects ever took off or materialized. But we had a lot of good times and good laughs. And I don’t think there was a single lunch that went by that he didn’t say to me how much he loved you. He’d always say, “Mark, I love her so much. She makes me crazy sometimes, but I love her so much.” And boy did he mean it. His eyes would literally tear up every time. And I’d cut the tension and say, “I bet you make her pretty crazy too you know.” And then I’d make a jab about how he wasn’t the most easy-going guy. And he would just repeat again how much he loved you.
He was a good man who will be dearly missed by many, including me. I often think fondly of all my many memories of him. No doubt these will be difficult times for you Mary. I send you my love and deepest sympathies.
