My Friend Wendell Johnson

One of my fondest memories as a teenager growing up in the small farming community of Mapleton, Utah was attending church at the side of the bed of a young man just a few years older than myself who became a quadriplegic at the tender age of 16. Because of the paralysis, he was basically a prisoner in his own body. His name was Wendell Johnson. His life was a miracle. Miracles occurred all around Wendell. Many people had special influences on him, and he in turn inspired and influenced the lives of so many others.

His younger brother, Morris, and I were good friends. I remember as a 14 year old going over to the new addition of the Johnson home, which Wendell’s father had built for the care of Wendell. It was one room, maybe 15 feet by 15 feet in size, with a large bathroom and a hospital type bed. Here Wendell spent a good deal of his life. Here he learned anew how to eat. He relearned how to paint. He became renowned in some of his paintings. Here he was loved by family and friends who sought to help and comfort him. Here he taught and influenced many for good. Here we held some of our church services on Sunday, so that Wendell could participate with us. Here I admired the strength and character of Wendell and those who served him.

I remember being in church the day that the Boy Scouts of America awarded a medal of heroism to the friend that saved Wendell’s life. In 1964 at the age of 16, Wendell had been swimming at the flume, a washed-out portion of the irrigation canal that flows above the farms of Mapleton. Wendell and one of his friends had gone to the flume to swim and cool off after a hard day of working on the farms in Mapleton. Wendell told his story of standing on the embankment of the canal, of looking down into the swirling waters of the flume, and of diving in. He expected to make a shallow dive, but for some reason he said that he arched awkwardly in the air. As he dove into the water, he hit the bottom with his head and he broke his neck and spine. He remembers the moment as one in which he thought he might die. He remembered thinking that one’s life does flash before him as one’s life is near its end. He remembered struggling to move his muscles and his body and having nothing work for him. He remembered the feelings of panic and fear as he could not get air or move. Suddenly the friend that was with him raised him out of the water and he remembered how wonderful it was to grasp for air again. He remembered looking down at his body while he was lying still in the middle of the dirt road next to the canal and being unable to make his body move or work for him. He remembered being lifted into the Mapleton ambulance, a blue Edsel, that on the occasion of his accident needed to be pushed to get started. He remembered the blessings and prayers that were offered in his behalf and he remembered how powerful the principle of hope became in his life. He underwent many surgeries and therapy sessions to try and help him recover from this terrible accident. As time went on he was able to develop some movement in his arms. He described how one day he and his therapist noticed a twitch in his arm and how they worked hard on that twitch to develop enough movement that by the aid of braces he could move his arms. Just like when he was a baby he learned again how to do simple things. He relearned how to eat, write and do simple things like turning the pages of a book. He never walked again or had any movement in his legs. Instead of the powerful, strong muscles that he had developed as a teenager working on the farm, he now had a very skinny, motionless body.

I remember him getting very discouraged and despondent. At times it seemed that he just wanted to give up. It was hard for him to just lie there and it was hard for others to see him there. What would he be able to do with his life? His life seemed to be over. He seemed destined to be waited on by others for the rest of his life. He could not stand to have others pity him. He was a proud person. He was ashamed and embarrassed with his condition.

But, Wendell had family, friends and acquaintances that would not mind their own business. One day, a man who taught religion classes for the local seminary, and who had recently moved his family to Mapleton, went to visit Wendell. His name was Brother Howes. Brother Howes and others would not leave Wendell alone. They came over regularly to visit, talk and read with Wendell. I remember Wendell saying that he at times wanted to run away from the embarrassment of his situation, but he couldn’t. He was a captive audience. He couldn’t run away. This was a time when in his self-pity he didn’t want any one around to see him. Wendell was always grateful though for Brother Howes and others who took the time to make Wendell part of their business. These visits gave Wendell hope and inspiration for a better future. It helped him to not give up.

As a result of the hope and inspiration that came into Wendell’s life from the many doctors, therapists, family, friends, neighbors and acquaintances who made Wendell their business, Wendell went on to accomplish incredible things. One of his first accomplishments was to learn how to eat. I remember being at his home when he was relearning how to eat mashed potatoes by himself. With the brace on his left arm holding the spoon for him, he would laboriously get a spoonful of mashed potatoes and try and get them into his mouth. He started with mashed potatoes and peanut butter in relearning how to eat, because it was harder for him to spill them. Early on in this process he often missed getting the food into his mouth as he relearned how to feed himself. How could anyone spill peanut butter or mashed potatoes, but he did. He went on to learn how to feed himself, how to paint and how to write. He painted many beautiful sceneries and pictures, even though it would take him months to do just one painting. The task was still extremely difficult to do with a brace and with the limited movement of his arm muscles, but he persevered and produced many beautiful paintings. He coauthored a book. He taught many church lessons from his bedside. It will always be a cherished memory for me to have 15 to 20 of us surround his bed on a Sunday morning and listen to him teach us about the gospel of Jesus Christ. He had insights because of his condition and experiences that most of us will never have. I still marvel to this day at his courage and character as he taught us, lying crippled in bed, dressed in pajamas, with the braces on his arms and with a blanket over his useless body. With the brace on his arm, propped up in his hospital-style bed, with his books on a podium over his lap, he turned the pages of the instruction manuals as he taught us.

He was a good friend, counselor and confidant for many a young man at this time. I will always be grateful for those who inspired him to give what he could and to do the best that he could. I will also always be grateful for those who were wise enough to give him the opportunity to serve others. He became both the Justice of the Peace and the Mayor of Mapleton. He married a wonderful young woman, Susan Edmonds, who supported and helped him. Together they have a beautiful daughter. At his funeral, at about the age of 45, Wendell’s daughter told a story about his final painting. It is a beautiful painting of our Savior, Jesus Christ. She said that her father had died once before, but he was allowed to return to his feeble body and to finish this final painting. I have a copy of this painting on my bedroom wall. It reminds me daily of the strength and character of one who was paralyzed at an early age of his life, but who was inspired by the caring of others, and who became a magnificent influence in the lives of many. It reminds me of the great example of our Savior Jesus Christ and the miracle of his life and resurrection. Wendell’s life was a miracle. What he accomplished inspired many. I will always be grateful for his friendship and counsel. I believe that I will see him again and I look forward to that reunion. Well done Wendell.