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The corner of Massachusetts Avenue and 2nd Street Northeast in Washington, DC is a special place – at least as far as a street corners go. In front of a gas station stands an old, leafy tree. From under that tree a homeless guy - sitting on a blue plastic crate - greets passersby. He’s there almost every day and most nights. His name is Peter and he is one of those mildly crazy but generally friendly and talkative types you sometimes encounter on the streets.
Since I pass that street corner on my way to and from work, Peter has become a small part of my daily routine over the last two years. He’d wish me “A Good Day”, I’d murmur something like “you too” and then he’d tell me how many work days I still had to endure until the weekend, often adding the warning “And no skinny-dippin’!” I don’t know where this aversion toward naked swimming came from but this was Pete’s signature phrase. I thought about bringing him a drink or something to eat several times but never did. Nevertheless, Peter never begged and many people supplied him with groceries.
Monday morning, however, was different. Still a distance away, I noticed that Peter’s tree was all colorful and he wasn’t there. When I came closer to the corner, the flowers and the signs reading “In memory of Peter” made it clear to my sleepy mind: Peter had died during the weekend. The small memorial has grown over the week, with people adding pictures and newspaper articles that mention Capitol Hill’s most well-known vagabond.
I boarded the Metro on Monday feeling strangely sad. Never again would Peter liven up my boring morning commute; never again would people stop on their way home from Union Station to discuss the news of the world with him. Although I never spoke more than two words with Peter it was one of those moments that make you realize that people are not going to be around forever.
This, I think, is all I wanted to say. I am happy that people are paying Peter the respect that not only he but most human beings deserve. I am also happy that people cared enough to make his life manageable, whether he “chose” to live on the streets or was forced to. It is sad that he died – he was “only” 51 – but he did not simply disappear. He obviously left a mark on many people’s life. Peter’s death reminded me to appreciate what I’ve got, to make the best of it and to be mindful of life’s unpredictability and shortness.
RIP Peter
P.S.: Peter - surprisingly - had his own blog. You can find it here: http://peterbis.blogspot.com/
Googleing his name - Peter J. Bis - also brings up some intersting storys.
 
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I love that you take your time to reflect on what positive influence, from what i gather essentially a stranger, this man has had on your life. I do not live in Washington or even close to it, but it seems Washington has been left a poorer place to live by Peters passing, and I salute you for taking the time to write your own eulogy for Peter.
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Sounds like a delightful guy...and his blog is interesting.
It's sad the Jews took all of that money from him and kept him on the street.
Don't worry Pete...they're all in hell now for their transgressions...
User was warned for this post
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Wow...that's actually pretty cool.
RIP Peter. Sounds like a pretty awesome guy 
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On August 26 2012 09:02 KING CHARLIE :D wrote:
Sounds like a delightful guy...and his blog is interesting.
It's sad the Jews took all of that money from him and kept him on the street.
Don't worry Pete...they're all in hell now for their transgressions...
wtf dude.
First Neil Armstrong, and then Pete... When will the madness stop!!!
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oh TL, stop making me cry D:
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That was beautifully written. I haven't read something so well written in a long time.
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Thank you guys for taking the time to read this rather unusual obituary and for your nice comments. I am glad that the story resonated with some of you.
Swilvan: I do believe that Peter added something good to the local community, something that is now lost. I am sure that he got people thinking in different ways.
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Recently I also encountered something similar. There was this woman with advanced diabetes, she had all end-disease symptoms. I would always give her some money as she had no children and her husband was long gone. She would always be sitting in her wheelchair at the same area where she would keep looking at the busy street up ahead. She would always remain silent and never ask anyone for charity, but happily accept charity as well as answer questions about the neighborhood or any topic. She was always smiling and mentioning how satisfied she was with her life despite the hardship saying she's a believer in God and how she'll be rewarded for her patience in the after-life.
I always see this women, often I would give her money without checking on her, sometimes I would sit next to her and have a small talk.
But suddenly, the woman stopped showing up at that corner. It didn't seem significant to me, I didn't even notice her missing until I was asked for charity by some begger, which promoted me to remember her. Then when I asked the nearby mosque about this woman, they told me she passed away a week or so before. I was so sad when I heard it.
I never expected how the death people who are insignificant in our day to day life can be so saddening, which made me remember how hard it is to lose someone who's significant in my life. That's why I'm visiting my parents at the moment. I don't want to regret not spending time with those who are important in my life.
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Thanks for sharing your story. Its amazing how similar our experiences were and how much of an impact a stranger really can have.
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EPT
