Beverly - On the evening of Wednesday, November 3rd, 2021, Peter Michael von Zirpolo passed away peacefully with loved ones beside him at Beverly Hospital. He was five days shy of his 75th birthday.

The Romans tell us that the name Peter means "rock," and he was always ours. Strong as an ox in his youth and stoic to a fault in his twilight years, but a gentle soul and comforting presence to all who knew and loved him. He was born in Medford, MA and grew up in Somerville where he attended primary school. As valedictorian, he earned a scholarship to Boston College High School where he enjoyed various sports and played the trumpet. After several years of college, the Vietnam War brought him into the Navy as a cryptographer, where he received the "Honor Man" award at basic training before being stationed at Winter Harbor, Maine. He then went overseas to work in Naval intelligence, explore Europe and eat ricotta pie. He transitioned to an information technology career back home as a civilian, later retiring as a Senior Systems Engineer from John Hancock and Iron Mountain. He was a decorated participant in the Greater Boston Tennis League, where he and his doubles partner, Lenny Ciavarro, were frequent finalists.

Peter is survived by his longtime love; Mary Carr of Pembroke, his cherished sister; Paulette DiMartino of White Horse Beach, the four children he shares with Wendy von Courter, and their spouses; Shannon (William) Royer of Ipswich, Amanda (Christopher) Hall of Chelmsford, Samantha (Zachary) Kennedy of Worcester, Michael (Emily) von Zirpolo of Lacey, WA, and his adoring grandchildren; Amelia Kennedy, Charles Hall, Stella Royer. He is also survived by many nieces, nephews, great-nieces and great-nephews whom he loved dearly. Peter was predeceased by his parents; Lena Zirpolo (née DeSalvo), Clancy Zirpolo, brothers; Patrick Zirpolo, Paul Zirpolo, and grandson; Sonny Kennedy. Peter treasured a lifelong friendship with Lenny Ciavarro and his family of Falmouth, MA, and also held special fondness for the Fornash family of Nashua, NH.

Peter, a.k.a. Wiki-petey-a, was humble but brilliant, and always seemed to know a little bit about everything and a lot about a lot of things. Peter was an avid reader, Bob Dylan aficionado, New England sports fan, Subaru enthusiast, DVC devotee, and a genuine animal lover. He had a wonderful, quick sense of humor, and put up with teasing and practical jokes from his children well into their adulthoods. He had a deep, rich singing voice that was lovely at times and less welcome when he used it to sing "You Can't Always Get What You Want" in response to the whining of indignant offspring. He was an outstanding cook, loved hot peppers and ground his own coffee beans to make the strongest brew possible. Peter had hands like bearpaws and was incredibly resourceful. When a skiing injury and subsequent surgeries permanently limited his mobility, the creative methods of maintaining independence that he developed impressed many.

Peter was aggressively punctual with an impeccably clean car at all times (nothing crumb or droplet producing allowed). He was an early riser, and the sound of him hitting the basement's punching bag during a boxing workout at 4:00 a.m. was often an unintentional alarm clock for the rest of the household. He was the type of father who taught his children how to drive stick shift and use command prompt, and who would stop by the YMCA after a long commute home from Boston just to watch the end of your swim practice. He was the type of father who exclusively listened to oldies in the car and chose "Arsenic and Old Lace" or "The Maltese Falcon" for family movie nights. He was the type of father who told you that you'd appreciate his taste in music and movies more when you were older, and he was the type of father who was right. He was the type of father who would enthusiastically research any of your interests, or even things you were vaguely curious about. He was the type of father who would wake you up at 2:00 a.m. halfway across the world on your honeymoon with a phone call to your hotel room because he "happened to notice" that one leg of your flight home the following day had been cancelled and he had already figured out which other flight you should take instead. He was the type of father who would help you procure ingredients and prepare dishes you had seen together on Mary Ann Esposito's Sunday morning cooking show. He was the type of father who encouraged your pursuits and would ship a copy of a much-loved book overseas after hearing that you'd mistakenly left the original on your nightstand back home. He was the type of father who was always there when you needed him, no matter what. He was the type of father who cared.

Of the many hats he wore (those close to him will understand this as both a literal and figurative reference), he enjoyed perhaps none so much as that of grandfather. He adored his human, canine and feline grandchildren, delighting in their antics and achievements. Those two 'pretty girls' and 'Meatball Charlie Hall' brightened even his darkest hours, and he loved them more than is possible to express here. Though we will forever lament that their time on Spaceship Earth together with him was fleeting, we know that they will continue to feel his presence throughout their lives.

In fact, we can all find him in the pages of his favorite novels and in the satisfying "gotcha" moments of Columbo episodes. We will think of him when we use his catchphrases and quips or his trademark bashful smile emoji. We can find him at Kidani Village, watching the sun come up over the savannah with a cup of strong coffee in hand. We will honor him when we give affection to animals and talk to them in ridiculous voices. We will find him on wild roller coasters and when we sing in the shower. We will feel him when we laugh, especially at ourselves. We will connect with him when we eat pistachio gelato, grumble about the Patriots' performance, and when we take ludicrous amounts of hotel toiletries home with us. We will think of him when we fill the dishwasher like a ciuccio and when we grate a fresh pile of pecorino romano cheese. If we listen closely enough, we will always find him blowin' in the wind with Bob Dylan prose...we will always find him blowin' in the wind. We love you, Dad. We miss you so much and always will.

A celebration of Peter's life for family and close friends will be held in June at the Ipswich Country Club. In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to a charity that Peter frequently supported: Give Kids The World, a non-profit organization that facilitates no-cost trips to Florida amusement parks for children with critical illnesses and their families. https://www.gktw.org/help/give.php. Arrangements by the Campbell Funeral Home, 525 Cabot Street, Beverly. Information, directions, condolences at www.campbellfuneral.com.