By Lee Cataluna
Advertiser Columnist
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AID=/20050904/COLUMNISTS02/509040348/1120/NEWS


I could have sworn I saw him just the other day.

Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe I just needed to see him.

It's hard to imagine Eduardius won't be wheeling down Kalaniana'ole
anymore.

For nearly 20 years, nearly every day, Eduardius was there for us.

Of course, for him, his daily trips between Waikiki and Hawai'i Kai
were for exercise, for fun. Who are we to think he was doing it for
our benefit, just because we felt we knew him, just because he came
to mean so much?

Kids on their way to school would watch for him and get excited when
they spotted those red flags on his bike in the distance.

Parents would point him out and take the opportunity to indulge in a
little lecture about perseverance.

Folks making their way in East Honolulu sent their blessings to him
as they whooshed by in their SUVs. Right on, Eddie. He blessed us
right back.

Eduard "Eduardius" Thompson, born with cerebral palsy, lived in
Hawai'i for 25 years. He rode a specially equipped three-wheeled bike
along Kalaniana'ole and all through town, pedaling so slowly with his
thin legs, his 85-pound body crooked on the seat. His bike weighed
more than he did, but there he'd go, uphill on Monsarrat. He'd go to
visit friends, to have breakfast, to holoholo.

Seeing Eduardius on that bike made you think about the tangle of
little complaints you lug around. He made you challenge your ideas of
insurmountable odds. He was a living metaphor for so many big things:
for fighting the good fight, for living large, for not letting things
like pain or fear or spindly legs keep you from your journey.

In 1999, he set out to pedal his three-wheeler 3,500 miles across 13
states. The trip was meant to raise awareness about what people with
disabilities can accomplish. Eduardius said at the time that he
always wanted to do something spectacular.

He sure did.

He was true to himself and lived his life the way he wanted to. At
the same time, almost as a byproduct, he was an inspiration to all
who bore witness to his daily struggle. Not many lives amount to both
things. Not many lives are so fully lived.

Last November, he took his last official ride. His health had been
declining and his friends thought it was time to stop. So he did. But
not for long. He got hooked up with a motorized wheelchair and got
back on the road again. He did that for as long as he could. Late
last month, he moved to a care home back in his hometown, Salt Lake
City. He died Wednesday. He was 58.

Maybe we can still see him, just a red flash in the corner of the eye
as we make our way to work and home, work and home. Maybe we can
carry those flags in our own hearts and live as bravely and as well.
Maybe he knew how much we needed him, how he carried our hearts on
the back of that bike.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her
at 535-8172 or lcataluna@....