A Tribute, Long Overdue

He was a great friend, not just to one, but to all.  Few of us, though, knew precisely how to value that friendship.  Donny was born “deformed.”  We understood that.  His arms and legs were twisted, his fingers and toes fused together as if he were burned in a fire.  His head was too large for his body.  All that, we saw, as children and classmates of Donny Solvason.

But we were wrong.  It was not his head that was too large, but his heart.  And the only deformities were our rigid, unthinking visual perception of this remarkable person.

Donny died when he was nineteen, after myriad surgeries to “correct” his problems.  We all lost when he left.

Donny never let his physical limitations hamper his outlook, his intellect or his kind generosity.  While one may wonder what he had to give, as I reflect on his life as we knew it, he gave everything.  Donny had every reason to be bitter, to be defeated, to be self-absorbed.  He was never any of those things.  When any of us were unhappy or had petty problems, he wanted to know, and to hear, and to sympathize.  He demonstrated these qualities from the first time I met him, when he was only six, and attending school for the first time. 

Scholastically, Donny excelled, setting aside the incredible pain that he must have endured, to apply himself to learning.  I was the “smart kid” in class, but of the few times I was bested by other classmates, the one that I actually embraced was the day that Donny beat me in a regional school spelling bee, and went on to the divisional finals. 

Only once did I hear him complain.  It occurred when one of us, unthinking, was racing around the school yard, pushing Donny in his wheelchair.  This kid turned too sharply and spilled Donny onto the gravel.  Without any way to protect himself, he scraped his hands and face badly, and screaming in pain and panic, unable to get back into the chair.  The other schoolmate, fearful of the consequences and alarmed by the crisis, fled, leaving my poor friend writhing on the ground.  It was several minutes before a teacher came to the rescue.  Donny, true to character, sought out that child who had fled, and told him not to worry, and that the schoolmate would not get into trouble.  He was more concerned with that young fellow’s situation than his own.

Everyone liked Donny, yet, when we moved on to high school and Donny to the hospital, virtually every one of us forgot about him.  He was a friend, but, typical of young people, we only had time for him when it suited us.

Donny Solvason died the year after I left high school.  I had not seen him in three years, even though he lived a mere half mile away.  While he lost his life, he lived it more fully than any of us.  He also left behind an indelible memory, and a standard to which I point myself as much as possible.  He was one remarkable human being, and remains a great friend, even today, in my heart.

This blog Finding Your Oasis, is dedicated to Donny Solvason.  I wish I could, someday, be as complete and as whole as he was.

Visit here often, for inspirational stories of other unique people.