Lawrence “Larry” Solomon was a can-do guy.
He was an all-American gymnast on his East Coast high school and college teams.
An accident during practice at age 19 left him paralyzed, but he continued his education, and eventually earned a doctorate.
And the first time he kissed Barbara Jean Chichersky — the woman who would become his wife — Solomon didn’t mess around with any tight-lipped smooches.
She was a nurse at Rusk Institute of Rehabilitation Medicine in New York, where Solomon received treatment for his spinal cord injury.
“I was very shy and very quiet,” she said recently. “I didn’t really like Larry because he was so loud. I didn’t like his personality. But that turned out to be the best part of him.”
Nurse Chichersky quickly warmed up to her brash patient and for the holidays, she and her roommate invited Solomon to their apartment to see their Christmas decorations.
“I knew him six weeks and he French-kissed me under the mistletoe,” said the woman who has been Barbara Jean Solomon for the last 34 years. “Later that night I told my roommate, ‘Larry French-kissed me under the mistletoe,’ and she said, ‘He French-kissed me, too.’ He was a really good kisser.”
Solomon later explained to his future wife that, “if you’re going to do something, do it,” she said. “No one believed our marriage would last.”
But it did last, until death parted them earlier this month. After two years of on-and-off hospitalization for various ailments related to his paralysis and persistent pneumonia, Larry Solomon opted to stop all treatment — including nourishment. He died March 3 at a hospice center, his wife at his side.
Though he was only 57, Solomon had defied the life expectancy predicted by medical experts in the 1970s for someone with his type of injury.
“Theoretically, I should be dead,” the then-29-year-old Solomon said in a 1978 Tucson Citizen article. “People who break their necks live an average of six years — at least that’s what the insurance experts predict.”
Solomon’s situation did not make him bitter.
“I’ve never accepted my paralysis,” he said in the article. “I’ve simply adjusted to it. Maybe that’s just playing with semantics, but it’s what I can live with. I don’t think Disability changes your mental attitude as much as some people think. Basically I’m the same person.”
“His philosophy was, ‘You can’t change the world, but you can change the Environment around you,'” his wife said.
In his dreams, Solomon never saw himself in a wheelchair, she said. “He’d be playing golf or doing gymnastics, but never in a wheelchair.”
“He never saw himself with a handicap, not even subconsciously,” said Patsy Huff, who has been friends with the Solomons for 20 years.
After his accident, Solomon earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in counseling from Hof- stra University in New York. He and his wife then headed for warmer weather in Tucson, where Solomon worked as a guidance and career counselor at high schools and at Pima Community College. He also earned another master’s degree and a doctorate in education administration.
Even on trips to the grocery store, Solomon would counsel the stock boys on the importance of education, his wife said. He knew them by name, asked them about their grades and ambitions and suggested ways for them to succeed.
“He was always pushing education,” said neighbor Enrique Cabral. “We had great talks.”
The one thing they never discussed: Solomon’s accident.
“I never saw him as a person with a disability,” Cabral said. “I’d make fun when he’d run over my flowers, but other than that it wasn’t an issue.”
One of the Solomon’s two daughters, Sara Cottom, moved to Tucson with her family two years ago to help care for her father. It was a chance, too, for Solomon to spend time with his grandson, 2 1/2-year-old Jake.
“My dad helped me raise Jake,” Cottom said. “They would play outside or he would put Jake on the pedals of the wheelchair and take him for rides. I’m glad my dad got to spend time with him.”
It was the same kind of quality time Solomon spent with his daughters, Cottom and Susan Caugh, when they were growing up. He taught his daughters how to play softball, soccer and tennis, how to swim and perform gymnastics moves.
“There wasn’t anything my dad couldn’t do,” Cottom said. “As long as I’ve known him, he’s always had that attitude. Whenever we would say we can’t do this, he’d say, ‘Change can’t to won’t and say it again, because can’t is not a word.’ ”
Caugh, of Memphis, Tenn., said her father inspired her to get a nursing degree.
“He has always had that can-do attitude,” she said. “Nothing was ever unreachable or impossible. Some people don’t do a thimbleful of what he did in his life.”
Life Stories
This feature chronicles the lives of recently deceased Tucsonans. Some were well-known across the community. Others had an impact on a smaller sphere of friends, family and acquaintances. Many of these people led interesting — and sometimes extraordinary — lives with little or no fanfare. Now you’ll hear their stories.
“Life Stories” will be kept online at go.azstarnet.com/ lifestories Arizona Daily Star Tucson Classifieds Press Pass – UA Sports
By Kimberly Matas, arizona daily star
