A terrorist attack hasn’t kept John and Karen Odom from living the life of their dreams.
Written by Melissa Bean Sterzick | Photographed by Vincent Rios
“Hit by a bomb, pray for John.” It has been 11 years since Karen Odom, in the back of an ambulance with her severely injured husband, texted those words to her frightened family and friends. Karen and John Odom were on the sidewalk next to the finish line of the Boston Marathon on April 15, 2013, to cheer on their daughter Nicole and daughter-in-law Sarah as they finished the marathon.
On that fateful day, after the devastation of the bombing, a series of events brought John through the worst—preserved his life, gave him the power to heal and led him to a meaningful recovery. Son-in-law Matt Reis applied a tourniquet. Karen insisted he stay awake while they waited for medical care. Doctors restarted his heart twice. And John himself summoned the determination to return to his life on his terms.
“It was minute to minute, hour to hour, then day to day,” Karen says. “But he’s a fighter, and he didn’t give in.”
John was in intensive care at Boston Medical Center for seven weeks. He required 27 units of blood and survived 11 surgeries during the first 28 days. After three weeks of uncertainty, his family finally heard the words they wanted most: He would survive. He would not lose his life or his leg, but his sciatic nerve had been severed—leaving his left leg paralyzed from below the knee down.
When John arrived at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in Boston seven weeks after the bombing, his doctors entered his room and asked him to state his intentions. “They said, ‘What are your goals now that you’re here?’ and I told them my goals were to walk again, dance with my wife and hit the golf ball farther and straighter. And they said, ‘How about we learn how to get out of bed first?’” John recounts.
Eight weeks after the attack, John stood for the first time. Through the arduous months of surgeries, recovery and physical therapy, John’s will to regain his health and mobility and his desire to be an active part of his family life kept him going. He was so eager to swing a golf club that his nurses wheeled him outside the hospital with a few golf balls and a cane for a club—their idea of a makeshift putting green.
John and Karen are still amazed by the kindness they received from people they didn’t know. The heartfelt encouragement and support from groups and individuals from all over the country—including children who had survived the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School, the Boston plumbers union, their daughter’s UCLA softball coach, politicians and celebrities, the Red Cross and the FBI—was overwhelming. Not to mention the care shown by their close friends and associates in the South Bay.
“They brought us clothes and shoes. People sent us Tito’s Tacos and See’s Candies. We received tens of thousands of cards—we still have them. It was a stark contrast from the evil of two men who carried out a terrorist attack to the thousands of good people who wished us well. It restored our faith in humanity,” Karen reflects.
They had been planning a retirement full of family time and travel when the bombing happened, but afterward they didn’t know what the future would look like. The Odoms came home 5½ months after the marathon, and on their 46th anniversary that September, they danced together again.
Healing came slowly but surely as they accepted reality and faced the new normal with resolve. “This is what this is. What we have to deal with. We’re going to say, ‘All right, that’s the past. We are going forward,’” Karen says of their mindset.
John and Karen didn’t give up on celebrating their loved ones from the sidelines and in the stands—the Odom fan club is a family tradition. Their joy has always come through their children and grandchildren. They are especially proud their sons and daughter have followed their lead into construction and real estate.
Their eight grandchildren—including a fifth-generation plumber, two educators, a pediatrician, a nurse, a UCLA Bruin and the two youngest, now freshmen at PVHS—are the center of their world. “We are proud grandparents. Our grandkids are our life,” Karen says.
John plays all the golf he wants and goes to physical therapy weekly. He is so active, he wears out his leg braces. He’s on the hunt for a brace that offers the right amount of support for a day of golf but still gives him the flexibility to optimize his swing. He’s adjusted to his paralysis in traditional and creative ways—sometimes to the amusement of his family.
“I don’t go swimming, but I wasn’t a swimmer before,” he says. “They tease me for being slow. And there was the time we wanted to ride bikes and my foot kept falling off the pedal. I used duct tape, but that didn’t go well.”
John sits on the Murray Company board of directors, where he held positions of field superintendent, vice president, COO, president and chairman between 1975 to 2013. His two sons, Don and Michael, are part of the leadership of the company.
“I get a lot of happiness seeing the growth of the business—it’s an employee-owned corporation, and it has gained a lot of ground during the last 10 years,” John says. Murray Company has had a long association with Torrance Memorial Medical Center including projects such as the Lundquist Tower, Hunt Cancer Center and Hunt Tower. It has been a supporter of the hospital since the 2000s.
The Odoms were frequent visitors to the hospital when their children were young. “With two boys and a girl all actively involved in sports, somebody was always breaking an arm. I’m sure they were thinking, ‘Here they are again,’” Karen says. “We should’ve had our name on a door in the emergency room. Torrance Memorial was always there for us.”
Since the marathon, they have had a deeper desire to serve the hospital and became Ambassadors in 2022. “We hope to give back to the medical community. We know how important it is to have a good hospital, and we found the value in having a relationship with the hospital,” Karen says. “Without a great hospital, excellent doctors, caring nurses and staff, the experience is very different.”
From when John lay on the sidewalk thinking he might have lived his last moment through the journey of rehabilitation and regaining trust in the world around them, the Odoms have always kept their focus on the future and each other. Together they have made the last 11 years about their survival in the face of terror, their healing, their family and their happiness—not fear or loss or anger.
“Our family is everything to us. We understand how one day can be life-changing, but now our retirement is what we envisioned it to be,” Karen says. “John hits the ball shorter and straighter, but he does everything he wants to do otherwise. Life is amazing. We’re fine. We’re blessed.”
