Lena Mari Meneguzzi

Lena Mari Meneguzzi was born June 29, 1918 in a home on Grant Ave and died in her sleep in an apartment four blocks away 100 years, 3 months, and 22 days later. Her father was a carpenter and her parents emigrated from Naples to North Beach after the 1906 earthquake. The youngest of four siblings, Lena was the baby of the family—a fickle eater who, as she liked to remind people later in life, was once dubbed “string bean.” She lived in North Beach/Russian Hill her entire life and shopped for vegetables in Chinatown a good portion of it. She was a San Francisco original—full of childlike joy, OCD energy, unfiltered commentary, intractable opinions, generosity (in spite of her resolute frugality), and unwavering love. “When other people are happy, I’m happy,” she once said, and it was true. She took care of everyone. In her teens and twenties, that meant giving perms to her girlfriends. Later, it meant frying fritelle pizzas, caring for children, cutting checks, baking biscotti, sewing potholders, dusting other people’s baseboards, and sitting by sickbeds, painting peoples’ nails. She loved ravioli, the color yellow, and cleanliness. She did not like beans (“They don’t like me!”) or fancy flower arrangements for the dead. She now joins her beloved first husband, the mushroom distributor Guido Mari; her vivaciously independent daughter, Marilyn; her goodhumored second husband, George Meneguzzi, and her two brothers, sister, and parents. She is survived by her son, Frank Mari, who took care of her until the end; her grandchildren, Tim Boyd, Karyn Boyd, and Francesca Mari; as well as many loving nieces, nephews, and greatgrandchildren. The death of Nonie marks the end of an era. She will be missed longer than she lived.