Disconnected

I didn't know 79-year-old Donald Domsky. He didn't live in my town. He wasn't a relative. We'd never spoken or exchanged letters. But in the small New Jersey town of Wayne (near Paterson), Mr. Domsky was a fixture, tho from accounts a somewhat unusual one. He took meals at the Crossroads Eatery almost daily and was reputed to be a trivia wiz, tho few knew him by name. He took long walks thru town, refusing offers of a ride. He valued his privacy and lived alone in a modest gray paneled home set back off the road. 

But when Domsky didn't show up at the diner, when his lawn went unmowed, when his bills piled up on his stoop, few thought to inquire after him. Some assumed he had been taken in by family. Others probably didn't think about him at all.

An investor put in a bid on his house. Neighbors complained about the overgrown lawn being a neighborhood eyesore. But few seemed to push for answers to the most important question: Where was Domsky? As it turns out, he was home all along. Dead. Authorities estimate that Domsky had passed away in December of 2010, over a year before his body was discovered. Over a year.

As a final insult, the local ABC affiliate covering the story misspelled Domsky's name as "Dumsky."  

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The case of Donald Domsky says a lot about our communities, how we take care of each other, or how we fail to do so. Neighbors complain about an overgrown lawn, yet never think t check on the resident. Or, knowing that Domsky was elderly, to mow it themselves.  Did utility workers come to the house to shut off the power, the cable, the water, the phone? Did anyone knock on the door or peek thru a window?

How in a place as populated as northern New Jersey can one go missing in his own home town?

If you know someone who's elderly, frail, or lives alone--and you don't see them at their regular spots for a week--check on them. See if they need help. And if they can't be found, ask questions. Have the police stop by on a courtesy call. Remember, the function of the police is to help people, and  NOT simply the maintenance of order. If it were, Mr. Domsky's corpse was a model citizen.  

 

Comments

[Darcy]

Wow. Sobering. I wish our culture wasn't so isolating. Living alone feels so unnatural to me.

[Heather]

Stories like Mr. Domsky's make me so sad. Thank you for writing about it.

[sarah]

Sad as he died alone yet happy one can only presume - but not to check on someone whose routine was soo consistent I find sad. Can't knock on the door?

[donna]

Thank-you for that, Charlie! :(

[trainwatcher]

We used to drive to Allentown several times a week. For years, and in every kind of weather, we always saw a man slowly trudging along narrow, shoulderless Route 412, heading one way on our way up, and back the other way as we went home. He walked with the murderous traffic on the right (wrong) side of the road, and would stop, turn around, and watch each vehicle as it went by. We repeatedly tossed him a smile and a wave, but he never responded. We called him "Walking Man."

Every year he and his clothes looked more weathered and worn, but he was always there. Until suddenly he wasn't. We figured, sadly, that age, illness, or a careless driver had overtaken him. Or maybe someone had had him committed. We even imagined him dying like Mr. Domsky, alone and unremembered, wherever he spent his nights.

A year went by. Then recently, there he was, walking north. He stopped and stared at us, as usual. And we smiled and waved because we were glad to see him, even if our "connection" to him was one-way. It just felt good to know that things were okay in his peculiar world.

[Pale]

Oh, Charlie. This is so discouraging. You are so right.

[Charlie]

Bob - Thx for sharing the "Walking Man" story.