By Barbara A. Killmeyer

Everyone has his or her own idea of what makes a perfect Christmas. For some, it involves a large pile of gifts with each one having their name on the tag. This group is usually made up of children. As we grow older, we realize that gifts are nice, but there is so much more to this holiday. We even begin to feel the Spirit of Christmas more when we give either gifts or give of ourselves by volunteering to help others.

Then there are those who feel that a white Christmas would be ideal. Here is my thought on a white Christmas: At midnight on Christmas Eve one huge, gigantic snowflake would fall, covering the entire Pittsburgh area. It would last until about noon on Christmas day, then melt. This would give those who yearn for snow their wish, and since it would melt fairly quickly, it wouldn’t interfere with any holiday plans.

A number of people rely on traditions to make their holiday perfect. Traditions take us back to our childhood and to the things that we grew up with. By passing these practices on to our own children, we are giving continuity to our family and celebrating the love and care our parents gave to us. Today, for a number of reasons, our grown children must move away to start their own lives. This means they will begin to make traditions of their own to pass on to their children. When a couple marries, they each bring with them customs from their parents. These customs are usually blended and introduced into the new family. Some customs die out because of the changing times and the changing neighborhoods. I can remember growing up in Etna around many other Croatian families. Each Christmas Eve after Midnight Mass, friends went from house to house, eating Christmas goodies and toasting each other. As far as I know this is no longer done. My husband remembers that on Christmas Eve “Santa” would ring a bell giving the signal that it was okay to come downstairs to see what was left under the tree. These are the kinds of things that remain in your memory for a lifetime.

My perfect Christmas means that I am surrounded by a healthy, happy, family. I’m sure this is the wish of most people.  Whatever your idea of what a perfect Christmas is, I hope you see your wishes fulfilled and that you and your family can experience the true meaning of the holiday.

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On December 6, my mother will be 99 years old. What a milestone! She has defied the odds of the 20th century and is enjoying her life at the Sherwood Oaks community. What is it that sustains her to face each day?

The answer combines luck and circumstance. Her life was free of tobacco and alcohol, and she enjoyed walking and nature. For years, she hiked with Joe Grom’s nature group in North Park. She has received timely medical care and loves to socialize with friends at mealtime, and in between you might find her sitting under the exit sign in the hallway. She wants to be close to the activities.

Her college education at Carnegie Tech (now CMU) and experiences in social work during the Depression framed her working life. She has always looked at new acquaintances as challenging social work studies of personality and ethnic heritage. Growing up in Schenley Heights in Oakland exposed her to a wide variety of people and hardships. She always described her childhood in terms of ethnic background and saw the good in everyone. She would say, “She is Lebanese, you know,” as if I knew. She enjoyed their family life, cooking and houses of worship. She handled the tough youth by “befriending their leaders and earning their trust and confidence, then things went easily.”

Most of her long-time friends and family are gone. Our neighbors growing up were like family. Her youngest sister died with Alzheimer’s last week in North Carolina. I have not told her yet; I only say, “Florence took a turn for the worst.” It was not the right time to tell her.

What should I do to see her through the rest of her life? I visit every five days. Do I look back or continue into the future in my discussions with her? She is looking forward to her 99th birthday, then on to 100. My father died in 2000 at age 95. I will continue to do what seems to have worked, by giving measured hope for tomorrow and positive reinforcement for each day. I will address her immediate needs for comfort and warmth and feed the birds at the window.

We have begun our ritual of writing Christmas cards, which has connected her to family and lifelong friends. She enjoys going through the address book with me, reminiscing as I write. I have her write a short goodbye at the end and have her sign the card. When we come to the name of someone who has recently passed away, she briefly pauses, remembers an incident long ago, and then we move on. We always return to Lyon Street in Schenley Heights and her dog Brownie that she had when she was a child. She always asks if I remember Brownie, but, of course, I wasn’t on this earth yet.

I look for signs of health. I take her pulse, look into her eyes and evaluate her color and body temperature. You can see so much this way. She quit walking about five years ago after a hip fall and fracture.

This month, we will be finishing our Christmas cards, feeding the birds and looking forward to a family Christmas and the New Year. My father, whom she calls “Dad” is waiting for her.

Happy Holidays!

Dr. Bob Ford

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For more activities of interest to seniors, see What's Happening for Seniors.