LEBANON — Michael Currier never should have lived as long as he did.
At birth in 1977, he was diagnosed with “failure to thrive.”
But, for the next 47 years and 11 months, Currier proved the doctors wrong and left a lasting impression on everyone he met along the way.
To ask anyone who knew him, what stood out most about Currier was his famous grin and his small stature, standing at just 4 feet, 8 inches tall.
“There was no other child like Michael,” his mother, Karen Currier, said. “He was a walking miracle.”
He died on Oct. 7 at Alice Peck Day Memorial Hospital, just a week shy of his 48th birthday.
Born in Hanover in 1977, Currier had lifelong cognitive delays and physical challenges that do not match any current diagnosis. He was born only two years after the landmark federal education bill that granted children with special needs the right to a public education and 15 years before the Children’s Hospital at Dartmouth Hitchcock opened.
His early life was defined by frequent trips to the Boston Children’s Hospital and childhood physical and cognitive therapies.
“That consumed us as a family,” Karen Currier said. Currier’s brother, Kevin, is 2 1/2 years older and their mother often had to make last minute arrangements for Kevin so she could bring Currier to the Boston hospital.
Currier struggled to learn to do everything from eat to roll over as a baby. Throughout his life he had poor hearing and vision, heart and lung problems, cognitive delays and “many times he did face death,” his mother said.
But through it all, Currier shared his infectious energy, his huge smile and his passion for the things he loved such as the Dartmouth Hitchcock Advanced Response Team, firefighters, God, Barry Manilow, and his family. His stubborn attitude was also at times hard to miss.
Growing up in the late 1980s and 1990s, Currier found few opportunities or programs in place for children with disabilities, his mother said. Raising Currier meant constantly advocating for him to doctors and teachers, and creating opportunities where they hadn’t existed before.
In school, Currier’s educators always focused on “goal setting,” but much of the emphasis was placed on his shortcomings and struggles rather than his strengths, Karen Currier said.
Currier graduated from Lebanon High School in 1998 without a clear path forward.
As when he was a young child, Karen Currier found herself caring for her son full time. As she had when he was born, she decided, “He’s going to thrive.” She set her sights on building a routine for Currier and helping him integrate into the community.
“I wanted to give him a normal life like anybody else had,” Karen Currier said.
First, she approached the Upper Valley Senior Center and persuaded them to let Currier and his mother help deliver Meals on Wheels to seniors. From there, Currier’s community involvement continued to grow and he began to spend more time out of the house.
Currier netted a laundry list of accomplishments including over 2,500 hours volunteering at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center and countless hours with other social service agencies around the Upper Valley, with his mother’s assistance and support. He also spent time at the Carter Community Building. Mother and son also would do other activities together such as taking hikes or trips.
“It really took a community to help raise him and the community had to say yes to me for the volunteer work, that I will always be grateful for,” Karen Currier said.
Currier started volunteering at then-Mary Hitchcock Memorial Hospital in 1999, right around the same time that Volunteer Supervisor Marcy Sanborn began.
For 20 years, he would come in on Wednesdays and Fridays. His tasks included delivering flowers, folding linens, transporting supplies around the hospital and helping with the housekeeping.
Currier’s positive attitude was an asset around the hospital and he always wore his famous smile while volunteering, Sanborn said.
One of his biggest contributions was “opening those eyes and opening those minds to seeing all abilities and (that) everyone can make a contribution,” she added.
The hospital also gave back to Currier.
For his 30th birthday in 2007, the Dartmouth Hitchcock Advanced Response Team loaded Currier up in the helicopter and took him on a flight over his family’s West Lebanon home and their cottage on nearby Crystal Lake. The opportunity is not given very often.
“Michael is kind of top-of-the-line special,” Sanborn said. “…He definitely was their biggest fan.”
After the flight, Currier often wore a signature baseball hat adorned with pins celebrating his volunteer hours and DHART. He would tell anyone he met about the program or take any opportunity to see the helicopter. His bedroom was decorated with a model of the helicopter and a painting he made. Many of his jackets were adorned with DHART pins.
He “ate, slept and breathed DHART,” Sanborn said.
Though he spent the most time at DHMC, Currier also volunteered at the Upper Valley Senior Center, Listen Community Services, Advance Transit and David’s House.
Even when Currier wasn’t doing much at all “people noticed him,” his step-father Gary Shepard said.
Currier was deeply religious. He attended mass at the Sacred Heart Church of Lebanon every Sunday, sitting in the front pew where he would watch the service with rapt attention.
After Currier died, Shepard said a man he did not know came up to him and said he would miss seeing him sitting in his usual spot.
Faith guided him and his family through his many health challenges and his father Frank Currier’s death in 2008.
His devotion also sometimes manifested in unusual ways.
He always insisted on going to bed at 9:15, not 9:30 or 9 p.m. One day, Karen Currier realized it was because 9:15 on a clock aligns with the hands of Jesus Christ on the cross.
Currier also could take a while to warm up to new people. After Karen Currier married Shepard in 2010, it took Currier some time to adjust.
But Shepard “took right to” Currier when they met.
“He had a way of getting into your heart and manipulating you,” Shepard said. He was also clever and often able to convince people to do things for him.
“For 15 years that I knew him, Michael thought I was his personal valet,” Shepard said.
Over time, Shepard and Currier grew close and enjoyed spending time together, including bowling together as partners with the Upper Valley Hawks Special Olympics team.
Currier “always seemed glowing and beaming when family was around. He’d look proud,” former Upper Valley Hawks Coordinator Missie Rodriguez said.
“Whenever he got a strike or a spare, he always would do a victory celebration,” and was often known to celebrate with a high-five or thumbs-up.
Currier also participated in activities through the Special Needs Support Center, or SNSC, such as the art lab at AVA Gallery and dances. Online activities such as cooking classes and a book club helped him to maintain a routine during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Though he always seemed to enjoy the activities, SNSC Program Director Emma Woloshin said she thought Currier preferred socializing more.
“He liked coloring, but I will say he really enjoyed the social aspect of art lab the most and just being a jokester,” Woloshin said.
Currier moved into an apartment managed by the Lebanon nonprofit Visions for Creative Housing Solutions in April 2023. He lived at Green Street Commons in downtown Lebanon with other adults with disabilities and received 24/7 support from caregivers.
The transition to Visions wasn’t an easy one for Currier. After moving out of the West Lebanon house where he had lived with his family for 45 years, it took time to get used to a “strange home with strange people,” Karen Currier said.
In the beginning, Currier would often ask when he could go home to his mother’s house to be with his most-constant companion, his mother.
During his time at Visions, Currier was probably Green Street Commons House Manager Makayla Ruel’s “most particular resident” in terms of the staff he was comfortable with, but the two of them connected easily and were extremely close.
“The highest compliment you could ever get from Michael was you’re like my Mom or you’re pretty like my Mom, and he didn’t necessarily mean aesthetically he meant the way you made him feel,” Ruel said.
Ruel was his first mentor, the title given to primary support providers at Visions. They spent every day together from the time Currier woke up in the morning until he went to sleep at night.
“Michael was a very small man, but he had a very big personality,” Ruel said.
In the early days at Visions, Currier often “could be perceived as more standoffish” and slow to make decisions for himself. He would request that staff contact his mother to answer questions and was often found sitting to the side during group activities.
“He was never the main character at first. He wanted to be there. He maybe wouldn’t sing karaoke, but wants to watch,” Ruel said. But, “by the end he was definitely the center of attention.”
In the last year or so, it was clear to everyone that Currier was becoming more comfortable at Visions.
“He grew so much in two years,” Shepard said.
The changes were often “subtle,” such as referencing Green Street Commons as “home,” stepping out of his comfort zone, becoming a stronger self advocate and being more social, Ruel said.
His comfort became apparent in the types of activities he was able to engage with and the way he was able to do so.
When Ruel first met Currier in 2023, she began taking him to a horse farm where he enjoyed feeding and watching the animals, but was often very timid around them. At most, he might pet their noses and run away scared.
About a month before Currier died, “he went horseback riding and was confident,” Ruel said. “Completely calm. No anxiety. Steady hands. He rode that horse.”
One of the keys to Currier’s success over the last year was likely that he had a more consistent support staff and routine, both Ruel and Karen Currier said.
“He figured out, I think, that he had a lot more autonomy,” Ruel said.