Peter Miller died in a fire at his home today. He was 80. Peter was a fixture down at the waterfront for as long as I can remember. We all called him Peter Puck. I don't know how he got that nickname. Most every day you could find Peter sitting on a bench behind my scallop boat on Straight Wharf. It could be 10 degrees and he'd be sitting there all day. When I came in from scalloping, Peter would be there on the bench. We would talk about scalloping and how good it was years ago. Many people don't know that Peter was a banker once a long time ago in New York City. For some reason his life took a downward turn and he discovered the bottle. The last time I saw Peter it was late one very cold day this past January. He had fallen on the dock and was unable to get himself back up. I just happened to be there and discovered him. I helped him up, dusted him off and offered him a ride home. He said no and that he had to go to the A&P to go shopping. Your battle is over, Peter. May you rest in peace.