Danny Peterson

With much sadness the family of Dan Peterson (Senior) announce his sudden passing on board his sailboat in Puerto Madero, Mexico on June 13, 2010.

Dan is survived by his children Daniel (Susan) Peterson and Angel Peterson; his grandchildren Rebecca, Colton, Morgon, Danny Jr., Alora, Selah, Anya, Dylan and Emmalayna; his siblings Tom Peterson (Nydia), Barbara Brower, Jeff Peterson, Judy Fulton, Vic Fulton, Patricia (Casey) Pryce, David Peterson, Heather Peterson and nieces and nephews too numerous to mention.

The family invites friends to join in honouring Dan’s life on September 5, 2010 at the Bouchie Lake Community Hall at 3:00 p.m.

This was written by Dan’s own hand years ago.

As I sit here in my pretty little yacht at the age of 47, I reflect on who I am, what I am, what I’ve been and why. I once said to my son: “I don’t know, maybe my life would be boring to some” His answer was: “I don’t know who, Dad, maybe an astronaut.” You see, I’ve been a cowboy and I’ve chased cattle, run trail rides, rode broncs, and won and lost wild horse races. I’ve packed across the Itcha Mountains, the Ulgatchos, the Rainbows and crossed the Alexander Mackenzie Grease Trail more times than Alexander Mackenzie. I’ve been a pilot and I’ve flown the skies in my own airplane. I’ve been diver and dove for underwater wealth. And now I’m sailing the 7 Seas. I’ve been a logger and cut down more trees than Paul Bunyon and I’ve planted more trees than Johnny Appleseed. I’ve been a builder and built homes, apartments, schools, malls, theatres, warehouses, and cottages. I’ve owned a million dollars worth of property and couldn’t afford an ice cream cone all on the same day. AND I REALLY WANTED ONE TOO. I’ve seen the Queen twice, Lady Diana, Prince Charles, Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triumphe, the Louvre, Big Ben, and the Alamo, 150 years too late. The Texans had already lost; although Jim Bowie’s knife was still there, as was Davy Crockett’s rifle. I’ve been in the hospital more than church, the church more than court, and court more than jail. But I’ve been in all of them. I’ve twisted wrists with the world champion arm wrestler and lost. (I don’t know why because I expected to win). I’ve carried 654 lbs. in the Fort Nelson Flour Pack at the Trappers Rendezvous, and I shucked my clothes to swim to save my sinking Seiner in a seventy mile an hour windstorm, and saved it; only to see it sunk in a peaceful bay a month later. I’ve helped police against criminals and I’ve helped criminals against police. I’ve helped save the souls of sinners and I’ve joined sinners in sin. The Biblical meaning of the name Daniel is: God alone is my judge…so please DON’T JUDGE ME. I’ve smashed up cars, trucks, motorcycles, kidder, loader, logging trucks and boats, some of them spectacularly. I’ve broken wrists, legs, broken backs and hearts attacks, and I’m still as good looking as I ever was, if I ever was good looking. AND I AM. I’ve been to London, Paris, Barcelona, Scotland, Iceland, Northwest Territories, Inside Passage to Alaska, Hawaii, Mexico, Texas, Cuba, Parliament, Disneyland and Hollywood. I’ve been a son, a little brother, a big brother, a boyfriend, a fiance, a husband, a father, a friend, a lover, an ex-husband, a brother-in-law, a son-in-law, a father-in-law, an uncle, a great uncle, a grandfather, a saint and a son-of-a-bitch. Is there anything else for a man to be? I watched both my children come into this world, become wonderful adults, and have beautiful babies of their own, my grandchildren, my lineage, my legacy and immortality. Wonderful, beautiful children. My purpose in life. Improve the world, with better than I was. Please tell them about their Grandpa and how much I love them I carried both my parents to their graves. I loved a women, more than any man should love any women, and I made love to more women than any man should. I’ve fought with the Devil, prayed to the Almighty and I’ve sung for Jesus. It’s been a helluva life, and it’s not over yet. Thank you God for allowing me to be me, for there’s no one else I’d rather me.

P.S. I know it all sounds like bullshit, but I swear to God it’s true. Not bad for a guy that was born in the Grand Marais Post Office.

Peterson Dan


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