The day I met Peter, he was throwing the hammer ridiculous distances at an away meet and I was cheering for him at the throwing circle. All the noise we were making got the attention of Peter and his parents and they came over to say hello. Peter quickly ascertained that I was going to be alone that evening and he immediately invited me to come out to eat with them. I hardly knew him, and I was staying at a different campus, but there was no question that Peter and his parents were taking me with them. Before I knew it, I was being ushered into the Goodrich’s car. We drove out to a trendy barbecue place in the middle of a cornfield, ate at picnic tables, played horseshoes, and had lively discussions about the Jessie James gang, farming, the practice of law, throwing, computers, and a myriad of other topics. Peter and his parents had a wide range of interests. Walking back to an empty dorm room after they dropped me off, I was so thankful for the distraction and happy to have met these wonderful people. I turned out to be even luckier than I thought. I had met a friend who would invite me to play pickup basketball, surprise me with bear hugs as I walked into Merrill,  suffer through my horrible Mario Brothers skills, and sit up and talk late into the night about all sorts of interesting things both at Bates and at reunion. Peter was inviting, warm, fun, generous, unassuming, intellectual, competitive, and athletic. He stood up for the underdog, and appreciated a humorous moment, he was a great friend, but most importantly, he was an excellent human being.

Peter always carried himself with a vibrant energy, and what I admired most from the first time I met him was his continuous intellectual curiosity and his infectious enthusiasm for learning. There were no half measures for Peter. When something sparked his interest, he would immediately dive into the exploration of the topic’s depth, nuance, complexity, and numerous facets. On top of this, he was equally joyful to share those discoveries with such impressive earnestness and engagement that those around him were drawn into the topic through his passion. There was always something new that beckoned to him and it was remarkable in the diversity from which his latest interest could be drawn — academic, athletic, technical, game theory, computing, physical, or natural realm.

I have so many memories of these experiences with Peter. I vividly recall Peter practicing additional virtual repetitions of the four-spin hammer toss (and discus and shotput) technique while in line for Commons, so many games of chess, and his intensive study of the flight mechanics and life habits of dragonflies. One of my fondest memories is of Peter standing waist deep in the brook behind his home in Williamstown. He wore a snorkel as he watched the fingerling trout that were growing in one of the pools, his excitement palpable as he popped his head out of the water to call us over to see.

It was through Peter’s exploration of Aikido that set me on a lifelong and familial connection with the Japanese martial art. What began with Peter sharing, “I just started something that you will love, grab my wrist” became an Aikido practice for myself, fellow alumnus Andres Bermudez ’88, and eventually my eldest daughter, Lilliana. It is in these ways that Peter has touched our hearts, minds and lives that stay with us no matter how much time has passed. It is his timeless love of learning and communal sharing that elevate the individual and the whole in ways that extend beyond the current assignment, course, or project.

I think of Peter nearly every time I’m out for a run — particularly the challenging ones. He once told me that if you’re facing a steep hill, imagine you have a rope tied around your waist, and someone is at the top helping pull you up, one tug at a time. (It actually works).

Peter and Rachel welcomed me into their home during a particularly wrenching time. One night I was really struggling. We talked, had some drinks, played some Go — but I couldn’t shake it. Around 11pm, Peter jumped up, said, “Follow me” — and led me to the hoop court around the corner.

We shot around in silence. Started to play some one on one. Jockeyed, bumped, and pushed for rebounds. The intensity increased (admittedly the quality of play did not) as we worked up a pretty good sweat.

Gradually, banter and laughter took over — and the ache in my heart began to ebb.

I often think of this as a turning point in my grieving process. Peter instinctively knew what was needed. His measured reasoning and perspective always helped, but in that moment, his actions and mere presence made the difference.

Peter tugged hard on the rope that night. He pulled me out of a deep funk, and helped set me on a path toward sustainable healing and eventual peace of mind. In different ways, I suspect his spirit continues to similarly benefit all who knew him.

This scholarship in Peter’s name is more than financial assistance for promising student athletes. It reflects the legacy of someone who epitomized selflessness, compassion, and resolve. To borrow from Bates’ motto, it’s about Amore ac Studio — ardor and devotion.

Anyone fortunate enough to have encountered Peter Goodrich is not likely to have forgotten him. With an imposing physique that earned him the nickname “Bear” and many All-American athletic awards, he was a large man. Yet, it was the particular combination of his physical stature with the twinkling eyes, disarming smile, and surprisingly soft voice that made you suspect you just might be in the presence of a true giant.

When I see Peter in my mind’s eye, his wife Rachel is always there. I first met them both when Rachel and I occupied side-by-side singles in Adams Hall and quickly formed a lasting friendship. I firmly believe Peter had a dorm room somewhere on campus, but I’m much less certain that he ever actually visited it. When he wasn’t in class, studying, or being a track-and-field superstar, he was with Rachel.  Peter graduated at the end of that year—a year ahead of Rachel—but rather than leave her behind, he took a job in nearby Portland and waited patiently for her to complete her time at Bates.

As soon as she was done, they packed up their bags and their cat, Ewok, then headed to Boston where they both found jobs and lived in a charming Cambridge flat. Making their way through those early adult years, they married, traveled, spent time with family and friends. And they worked hard building toward the future they imagined together. They opened up their home to friends who needed them, like Karl, and then me, who took turns crashing on the futon in their spare room for months on end. One of my fondest memories from that time was the hustle and bustle of the morning rush to get ready for work when Peter would take a visibly deep breath, just to capture any whiff of the lingering scent from Rachel’s perfume then proclaim, almost like a little kid, “I love how good you two smell!” Peter’s love for Rachel was so expansive that he even found a way to make everyone else feel somehow a part of it.

After work each night, the three of us would sit around in their living room, talking and sharing, while Peter and I knitted. Although we used the same sweater pattern, the results were dramatically different. We joked about how excruciatingly tight his stitches were—a tightness that contrasted markedly with his easy-going demeanor. Looking back, and with the knowledge that his insatiable curiosity had driven him to try his hand at knitting just so he could find yet another way to express his feelings for Rachel, I can’t help but impose a certain symbolism on that unfinished garment. I like to believe that the stitches personify the intensity and indestructibility of his love. One day several years later, he would show up at Rachel’s workplace to confer with her about a decision he had quietly come to: instead of firing his staff as directed by company management during a financial downturn, he would fire himself and in so doing, save everyone else. Yet again, Peter’s character and his expansive love was big enough to bring everyone in and hold everyone up.

There’s a natural tendency to lionize the good among us once they are gone, so it’s difficult to express the extent of Peter’s goodness without seeming hyperbolic. Yet, trust me. I can’t possibly overstate how deeply good he was. While this makes the tragedy of his death all the more painful, it also makes possible the enormity of generosity extended by so many in his memory. As you reflect on how you might want to mark the 20^th anniversary of 9/11, I hope that you, too, are drawn into the warmth and love that was Peter “Bear” Goodrich and consider making a contribution in his honor and spirit. Thank you, Rachel, for making it possible for all of us to celebrate Peter’s life in this way.

Calling Peter “one of the good ones” is truly an understatement. Peter was an exceptionally kind and
generous person. He would always be looking out for the best interest of others, and would help friends
and acquaintances alike. The only exception I can recall is when we would occasionally sample the
lunches of the distance runners at track meets while they were still completing their events.
He had an infectious smile and was always laughing. He chose to view life from a positive and
enthusiastic viewpoint. In addition, Peter was very inquisitive. He always wanted to know everything he
could about issues that interested him. From his quest to improve his hammer throwing technique, to
studying insects, comic books, religion, mechanics, science, philosophy, and a thousand other areas,
Peter could not get enough of learning. He would dig into whatever fascinated him and would become
very knowledgeable in the subject matter.

He just had a thirst for knowledge and would attack a topic with the same vigor and enthusiasm as he
would attack a cheeseburger. And if you knew Peter, you know the gusto with which he devoured every
bite of food. Whether it was homemade calzone, Coach’s “steroid sherbet” at Commons Saturday
mornings before a Meet, the cheese covered spaghetti and meatballs at Luiggi’s, or dinner at Graziano’s
in Lisbon.

To sum it up, Peter represented everything a Bates student should strive to be. If the recipients of these
scholarship can be as friendly, honest, inquisitive, and fun-loving as Peter we really can help positively
shape the future.