Hospice patients and families find last Christmas 0) 'bittersweet'
For families of the terminally ill, this Christmas may be the last they share with someone they love, a pain that also brings unexpected moments of tenderness.
"I will always remember the family who said, 'It's the best Christmas we've ever had because we've come to know how much we love each other,' " says social worker Sandra Fink, family consultant at the in-patient unit of Stella Maris Hospice Program.
"Christmas is a very bittersweet time in hospice. The bitter part is knowing that this is the last Christmas; people can't hide from that when they're terminally ill.
"It's sweet in terms of families remembering all the richness they have shared. Christmas helps people who are dying get in touch with what their life has been, especially with the joyous parts.
"Although people need to talk of their feelings about their last Christmas, they also need to laugh and cry with all those funny and happy and warm memories from the past. Those are the things that can't be taken away from people. They need to be emphasized and given life."
Because of her work easing the transition for the dying and their families, Mrs. Fink believes Christmas is an invitation to rejoice in the present.
"The clear message is to cherish the people we love and to let them know that," she says. "Hospice work intensifies our knowledge that nothing is permanent. But it's uplifting: It gives us permission to enjoy life to the fullest extent."
In his Christmas sermons, the Rev. Gene Nickol will be reminding his parishioners at Holy Trinity Roman Catholic Church in Glen Burnie how lucky they are.
"It's a great time to be a Catholic," says Father Nickol, 43, sitting in the parlor of the church rectory on Baltimore-Annapolis Boulevard. "Our archbishop has been named a cardinal, the pope's book is on the best-seller list and the new catechism is about to help us strengthen our faith."
Father Nickol knows all about luck. He's lucky to be alive.
Last Aug. 13, Father Nickol and Aileen "Boots" Pelesky, a receptionist at Holy Trinity, were abducted at knifepoint from the rectory. After getting into the priest's car, their abductor ordered Father Nickol to drive away, then forced him into the trunk and gave Mrs. Pelesky the wheel.
When the car stopped for a red light, Father Nickol was able to trip the trunk latch from inside and escape. Moments later, Mrs. Pelesky also was able to jump out of the car. The two ran to a nearby real-estate office while their captor drove away. A man was arrested the next week and is awaiting trial.
"Our guardian angel was with us," says Father Nickol, who grew up near Memorial Stadium. "I feel blessed. We've got to attribute [our escape] to more than just savvy or luck."
Somebody has been watching over him, he says. And now is the time to say thanks.
"Clearly," he says, smiling at the good fortune that he believes has surrounded Holy Trinity this year, "the power of God has been alive and well in our church."
Chris Kaltenbach A man called Santa offered his own sentimental and touching view of Christmas:
"Far as I'm concerned, it's a store-keeper's holiday. To me, it's a pain to go out there and buy presents and all. I hate to shop. Just not a shopper. I can go to Home Depot and do all the shopping I want," Ralph H. Santa says.
For years, the Baltimore County man had kids call him around Christmas. For years, he'd pretend to be the real Santa and listen to their wish lists. In his scratchy, wintry voice, he'd play along. And it was kind of sweet, Mr. Santa says.
"Christmas is for the children. When my two boys -- I got two boys -- when they got past 7, it sort of lost its fun. Now, I got two little granddaughters. It's got meaning again," he says.
When he was 9, Ralph Santastefano moved to Baltimore from Pennsylvania. Everyone mangled the spelling of his last name, so he later changed it to Santa. We found him listed in the phone book. We also found listings for a Kris Kringle on North Charles Street and a Biff Christmas in Cockeysville. But Kris and Biff were not and perhaps never have been at those addresses -- suggesting some high-level prank.
Ralph Santa is real. He worked in the marketing department of Baltimore Gas and Electric before retiring.
Now, at 76, Mr. Santa remains ready to field any Santa calls, but he hasn't gotten any this year for some reason.
"In a way I miss them," Mr. Santa says. "But it's a pain if you're eating supper and your meal is on the table, because that's when the kids called, and you got to talk to them."
It's rough being Santa, Santa.
"Yeah,it is."
Rob Hiaasen Baltimore Poet Elizabeth Spires, 42, a teacher at Goucher College and in Johns Hopkins University's writing seminars, offered these thoughts in a written message:
"We all know what Christmas is supposed to be or what we would like it to be: a day when we show through gifts, or a meal, or simply time spent together that we love and value our husbands, wives, children, parents and friends.
"Why then does it constantly fall short? Because human need and expectation, like a child's unspooling Christmas list, is too great, too long. A child tears open her presents, one after another, and after the last one has been opened, looks up at her parents and asks, 'Are there any more?' And the parents' hearts sink.
"Likewise, as adults, don't we place impossible expectations on the people closest to us? We are all children at Christmas, believing, wanting to believe, that our secret and not-so-secret needs and desires can be anticipated and met. No compromises allowed! But, of course they can't. Or rarely are.
"There's a part of us that says at Christmas, with both perfect justification and unreasonable childishness, 'Give me what I want! Not what you want me to have!'
"If we could only accept each other's flaws and oversights, if we could give without expectation, Christmas would be a simpler, happier time."