<snip>
He is the huddled man you walk by. The one you sometimes dread because he is another person in a busy day who may ask something of you. He is the one you look at but pretend not to see.
You have watched him, out of the corner of your eye, grow more stooped with time. You marvel to yourself that he always manages a smile.
Then one day, he is gone. The bench he called home looks barren, like a tree in winter. In his place is a sign reading, "We didn't know you -- we wish we did."
The man in this case is Jesse Zele, who was born Aug. 21, 1946, and died Sept. 7, 2005. He was without shelter but called Noe Valley home. His death has caused the busy to slow a little.
Amid a pervading sense of regret, a few were able to shed tears. They were thankful they had taken the time to discover that the man who appeared so needy actually gave them so much. His gifts were his serenity, his smile and his unwavering sweetness.
Residents of this close-knit neighborhood paused Friday before a colorful memorial set up on the bench to remember the soulful man with the black beret and impish grin, the man who remembered everyone's name. The bench is on 24th Street between Noe and Castro streets.
<snip>
Jesse was born in Los Angeles, had cats that he cherished and family that he seldom talked about. He had traveled to Spain, where he developed an interest in playing the flamenco guitar. He loved doing crossword puzzles, smoking, talking politics, decrying the war in Iraq and reading science and travel magazines. A passion for motorcycles ended with an accident that debilitated his legs and spine.
In recent months, he had trouble walking. He never complained except to say that he couldn't find crutches small enough. A friend came through with crutches built for a child.
more:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2005/09/17/MNGU6EPFBA1.DTL&type=printable
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