The Life History of David Wayne Olsen

This document highlights the life of David Wayne Olsen.

I was born on a crisp October day in 1956, into a world filled with simple, wholesome joys. My childhood memories glow with nostalgia: the gentle sway of a pony’s gait beneath me, the exhilarating rush of a sled down a snowy hill, and the quiet satisfaction of a well-read book. Diligence came naturally to me, and my name often appeared on honor rolls, reflecting a curious mind that always sought to understand.
That quest for understanding guided my path through higher education. I attended Ricks College, Idaho State University, and Eastern Idaho Vocational Technical School, acquiring not only degrees but also valuable tools—tools I intended to use to build a life of service.
My faith is the cornerstone of my life. As a devoted member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, my commitment took me far from the familiar mountains of Idaho to the sun-drenched shores of Adelaide, Australia, where I served a full-time mission. This experience left a lasting impression on my soul, shaping a lifelong pattern of devotion. In the years that followed, I quietly and faithfully accepted various callings within my congregation, with my service remaining a steady and reliable constant.
Professionally, my work was a direct extension of my compassionate heart. I served as a custodial supervisor, taking pride in creating order and cleanliness. However, my true calling was found in my roles as a special education aide and a developmental aide for adults with developmental delays. In these roles, my patience was boundless, and my encouragement unwavering. I didn’t just see a disability; I saw a person, and I dedicated myself to helping them unlock their potential, one small, hard-won victory at a time.
My family is my greatest joy and my deepest heartache. I built a life with my beloved wife, Jaylene Clinger, and together we raised three children: Rebecca, Michael, and Alicia. The home we created was filled with echoes of laughter, the strength of faith, and the gentle hum of everyday love. When Jaylene passed away, a profound silence settled where her presence had been. I carried that silence with me—a gentle sorrow woven into the fabric of my being—even as I continued to be an anchor for my children.
My story is not one of dramatic conquests or loud achievements. It is a story of quiet dedication—to faith, service, the dignity of every human being, and the family I love. It is a life measured not by milestones but by countless unheralded moments of kindness, duty, and steadfast love—a life well lived in every sense of the word.