Peter

Eric Sobelman

Peter is one of my best friends.  I have known him three years.  I see him twice a week at the gym where we play basketball and then go out for pizza. We always talk about the good looking girls who were working out. He believes that all the women are looking at him, and I tend to disagree. We don’t disagree on much else, except the fact that he likes the Giants, and I root for the Packers. If we do fight, he tells me that I have the I.Q. of a rock, and I tell him that he has the memory of a goldfish. I am going to be pretty upset when I go to college because Peter’s friendship has been extremely valuable to me. I wish everybody accepted Peter as I do because Peter gives everyone else a chance. You see, Peter happens to be a little different: he has Down syndrome.

I met him through Best Buddies, an international organization dedicated to helping those with intellectual disabilities. I joined this group freshman year because I wanted to help people. Peter and I have had some good times.  I officially see him twice a week, every three weeks, but we spend a lot of time outside of the group at the YMCA. One time, Peter was really exhausted, that was until these two stunning girls walked in the gym door.  They started to work out, and Peter looked at me and smiled.  I knew what he was thinking.  It was like this great burst of energy jolted through him.  I had never seen him so alive.  He rolled his sleeves up, and lifted substantially heavier weights than he had attempted before—all to impress the girls.  He said, “Eric, the hot babes are mine.  I don’t want you talking to the hot babes.”  I just erupted in laughter.  The way he said it could have made a mime laugh.

After we workout, we go play basketball.  He celebrates whether he makes the shot or not.  He even celebrates when he scores on the wrong hoop.

The best time we have had was when I took him to the “Best Buddies Ball.” He came over to my house before the dance to get dressed up.  He arrived and he looked like he was sweating.  However, it was hair gel running off his scalp. He had put a whole bottle of gel in his hair and it was dripping onto his jacket.  He informed me: “The hot babes are going to love me!”

He never took dance lessons, but whatever he was doing on the floor was incredible. He was giving me the thumbs up, and really enjoying himself.  He even threw his jacket off and it hit a girl. Peter had the time of his life.

People always ask me why I love Best Buddies so much.  I tell them that there is no better feeling in the world than making another person smile.  I think about Peter all the time and how less fortunate he is compared to the rest of my peers.  He cannot drive, which really bothers him, nor can he do many of the things I can.  He has a harder life than most, but he cannot control it.  I have problems too, but watching Peter overcome his obstacles, makes my problems seem that much easier.  It makes me tougher, and it allows me to put life in perspective each day. 

I remember being miserable last spring and really struggling with my OCD, but when I saw Peter and he said, “One day, I wish I can read,” I knew then that it could always be worse.  I will carry that moment with me all my life.  I worry about whether others take Peter seriously, because they have no reason not to.  Peter cannot detect sarcasm, so he won’t know if he is being picked on.  Peter is who he is—and who he is, is a human being like everyone else.  I am truly thankful that I have met him.