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After the paralyzing accident, Eugenie Budulan couldn’t even lift a finger — so he was thrown, in a way, to the world, to the mercy of the city’s sidewalks.
The dream of gentleman farming was quashed, the job in heavy equipment was over, the marriage — already on the skids — was now officially done. The immigrant who set such an independent life course now couldn’t even feed himself.
Budulan, who died on Dec. 13 at the age of 67, was a fixture in the ByWard Market and Rideau Centre area for about 20 years, motoring his electric wheelchair by moving his head and using a mouth-operated control. He was an unmistakeable figure on the broad sidewalks, making change for motorists, talking to merchants, asking passersby for small favours.
He survived, really, on the kindness of strangers.
Eugenie Budulan, in the ByWard Market.
One day in 2010, Faro Rad was parking his new Mercedes-Benz by the Blue Cactus restaurant in the Market when Budulan, a sometime mechanic, struck up a conversation about the merits of the C-350.
He found out Budulan had a sandwich in his rear wheelchair pouch but hadn’t eaten all day because he couldn’t reach it.
“I’m a human being and thought this can happen to anybody,” he said one day this week. “There I am all dressed up in a suit feeding this guy.”
Not long after, Rad, a business consultant who works internationally, visited Budulan’s apartment on York Street, where he needed daily help just to get in and out of bed, or prepare a meal. A friendship was forged. It’s how “Genie” rolled.
“I committed myself to go and see him for one hour a day, if only to help with his meds,” said Rad, one of a circle of friends who helped Budulan with daily living.
I met Budulan in 2007 and heard much of his life story. It was both admirable and harrowing. After emigrating from Romania in 1990, he was building a bungalow on a 60-acre farm outside Alfred, about 70 kilometres east of downtown, for his wife and three children. He wanted to farm.
On Aug. 4, 1996, a rainy day, he was working on the roof. The ladder slipped, he fell and landed on his back, severing his spinal cord. His old life, the old dreams, were over.
The adjustment was not smooth, to the point he didn’t want to go on. Now on his own, on June 28, 1999, he decided he’d had enough. He positioned his chair near the edge of the Rideau Canal, on the east side, behind the Conference Centre, and just accelerated, tumbling into the water.
I heard this story with a sense of disbelief. But sure enough, an employee of Paul’s Boat Lines confirmed he and another worker jumped into the water and, unable to unstrap Genie, lifted the chair just high enough so his head was above water. He survived, resuming his life on the street.
Budulan could be stubborn and hard to deal with. Maybe it’s what kept him going.
“Whenever I would have a bad day, I would go to see him and he would ask me to wipe his eyes because he couldn’t even do that,” said Rad. “You really think how grateful you are. You have this gift of living.”
Rad said he would buy his friend groceries and cook his favourite foods — potatoes in olive oil, or boiled eggs and sausages, or bring him grapes — and enjoy his sense of humour. His computer was a kind of lifeline, his friend said.
“He would say to me, ‘Faro, today I’m happy because I can feel a little pain in my arm.’ Imagine that? That pain would be a pleasant thing? I mean, that really touches you.”
Budulan was prone to infections and an advanced one landed him in the Montfort Hospital in December. His daughter Gabriella, 35, was there at the end, one of many hospital visits during the last two years.
She wanted to make it clear her father’s accident did not cause the family breakup, nor did the children abandon him. He was a difficult husband and father and tended to be hardest on those closest to him, she said, part of his single-minded independent streak.
“It’s kind of a complicated situation,” she said, saying little and much. It was her father’s dream to come to Canada and establish the Alfred farm, she said, not theirs.
“He was very happy and social and positive with strangers,” said Gabriela. “That was his life in the Market. It’s almost like he was two different people.”
Aren’t we all, maybe?
“All I know is the guy in the chair,” said Rad. “I think it was good God took him. He’s in a better place.”
To contact Kelly Egan, please call 613-726-5896 or email kegan@postmedia.com
Twitter.com/kellyegancolumn
查看原文...
The dream of gentleman farming was quashed, the job in heavy equipment was over, the marriage — already on the skids — was now officially done. The immigrant who set such an independent life course now couldn’t even feed himself.
Budulan, who died on Dec. 13 at the age of 67, was a fixture in the ByWard Market and Rideau Centre area for about 20 years, motoring his electric wheelchair by moving his head and using a mouth-operated control. He was an unmistakeable figure on the broad sidewalks, making change for motorists, talking to merchants, asking passersby for small favours.
He survived, really, on the kindness of strangers.
Eugenie Budulan, in the ByWard Market.
One day in 2010, Faro Rad was parking his new Mercedes-Benz by the Blue Cactus restaurant in the Market when Budulan, a sometime mechanic, struck up a conversation about the merits of the C-350.
He found out Budulan had a sandwich in his rear wheelchair pouch but hadn’t eaten all day because he couldn’t reach it.
“I’m a human being and thought this can happen to anybody,” he said one day this week. “There I am all dressed up in a suit feeding this guy.”
Not long after, Rad, a business consultant who works internationally, visited Budulan’s apartment on York Street, where he needed daily help just to get in and out of bed, or prepare a meal. A friendship was forged. It’s how “Genie” rolled.
“I committed myself to go and see him for one hour a day, if only to help with his meds,” said Rad, one of a circle of friends who helped Budulan with daily living.
I met Budulan in 2007 and heard much of his life story. It was both admirable and harrowing. After emigrating from Romania in 1990, he was building a bungalow on a 60-acre farm outside Alfred, about 70 kilometres east of downtown, for his wife and three children. He wanted to farm.
On Aug. 4, 1996, a rainy day, he was working on the roof. The ladder slipped, he fell and landed on his back, severing his spinal cord. His old life, the old dreams, were over.
The adjustment was not smooth, to the point he didn’t want to go on. Now on his own, on June 28, 1999, he decided he’d had enough. He positioned his chair near the edge of the Rideau Canal, on the east side, behind the Conference Centre, and just accelerated, tumbling into the water.
I heard this story with a sense of disbelief. But sure enough, an employee of Paul’s Boat Lines confirmed he and another worker jumped into the water and, unable to unstrap Genie, lifted the chair just high enough so his head was above water. He survived, resuming his life on the street.
Budulan could be stubborn and hard to deal with. Maybe it’s what kept him going.
“Whenever I would have a bad day, I would go to see him and he would ask me to wipe his eyes because he couldn’t even do that,” said Rad. “You really think how grateful you are. You have this gift of living.”
Rad said he would buy his friend groceries and cook his favourite foods — potatoes in olive oil, or boiled eggs and sausages, or bring him grapes — and enjoy his sense of humour. His computer was a kind of lifeline, his friend said.
“He would say to me, ‘Faro, today I’m happy because I can feel a little pain in my arm.’ Imagine that? That pain would be a pleasant thing? I mean, that really touches you.”
Budulan was prone to infections and an advanced one landed him in the Montfort Hospital in December. His daughter Gabriella, 35, was there at the end, one of many hospital visits during the last two years.
She wanted to make it clear her father’s accident did not cause the family breakup, nor did the children abandon him. He was a difficult husband and father and tended to be hardest on those closest to him, she said, part of his single-minded independent streak.
“It’s kind of a complicated situation,” she said, saying little and much. It was her father’s dream to come to Canada and establish the Alfred farm, she said, not theirs.
“He was very happy and social and positive with strangers,” said Gabriela. “That was his life in the Market. It’s almost like he was two different people.”
Aren’t we all, maybe?
“All I know is the guy in the chair,” said Rad. “I think it was good God took him. He’s in a better place.”
To contact Kelly Egan, please call 613-726-5896 or email kegan@postmedia.com
Twitter.com/kellyegancolumn
查看原文...
