The Heavenly Christmas Card

anthony KovatCh, mD

When an old person dies, a great library burns to the ground”

—African writer Amadou Hampate Ba

I argued to myself over and over how I could possibly return the Christmas card; I finally concluded that writing her story for the City of Champions and all the world to cherish was the only way available to me.

Although I have begrudgingly admitted to myself that I am a writer who is “over the hill,” I believe that I have preserved a penchant for irony and for the conviction that “miracles” are more than chimerical figments of the imagination. For example, was the so-called “immaculate reception” of Franco Harris a miraculous event self-ordained because he would lead “an extraordinary life of leadership comprised of service, humility, and kindness”(1)? And if it was not, was there at least some irony in the fact that Franco passed on just days before its solemn 50th anniversary, taking “the express elevator to heaven”? Do we humans have any prerogative to claim to know the truth in these matters?

So I must confess that I may have been privy to an event bordering on the spiritual or supernatural that took place the week before this past Christmas--an event not distorted by the drinking of too much spiked eggnog or by personal existential dread common to old age or the fear of premature senility.

I firmly believe that irony is a kind of symbolic magic, like that which occurs when a down-and-out, bewildered human soul surprisingly crosses paths with a dragonfly or a fluttering cardinal. On the other hand, was it irony when Jack Donahue and Rhodora Jacob met during their freshman year of high school, and Jack—who I suspect was a classmate of my father-in-law Jack Lyons (father of 12 children—13 if you throw me in) at Central Catholic High School---took a streetcar by an aberrant route to school that detoured him through Rhodora’s neighborhood and on to Oakland Catholic High School which she attended? I also believe that the two of them sat side-by-side on the old streetcar and read (like I did in New Jersey) the tender poem “The Rhodora” by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, Tell them, dear, that, if eyes were made for seeing, Then beauty is its own excuse for Being; Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!

It was stressed by my sometimes overbearing Jesuit teachers at Saint Peter’s “Prep” High School in New Jersey that in analyzing this famous poem the rhodora is presented as a flower as beautiful as the rose, but which remains humble and does not seek broader fame. And so it was with Rhodora Donahue!

“I knew that I was going to marry him when I was 14 years old!” Rhodora repeated candidly until she passed away at the age of 97 years on December 12, 2022. Jack would counter with his own conviction: “We got on that wonderful track (of the streetcar) when we were 14 years old and stayed on that track—we never got off.” Jack attended West Point and served as a pilot in the Air Force during World War II before co-founding

Federated Investors, a groundbreaking financial corporation which also specialized in magnanimity and philanthropy of the highest order.

“When we started out in Pittsburgh after the war, we lived “in a drawer,” quipped Jack. “At one point, we had 5 children and one bathroom---and that was mine”! As with most members of the “Great Generation,” growing up during the Great Depression left a lasting legacy. Loving discipline and attention to detail were prerequisites for domestic order. Sunday morning mass was the highpoint of the week, and the children were quizzed on the content of the gospel readings at lunch; our children were quizzed on what toy they wanted in their “happy meal” at McDonalds.

As the family grew, Rhodora played a pivotal role in the growth of the burgeoning corporation, hosting dinner meetings with potential clients and collaborators at their new home on Beechwood Boulevard, while the antics of the growing family and the pets were held at bay.

The fury of their love and devotion to each other and to their Creator recognized no bounds and the eventual marriage of 70 years produced 13 children (without fudging for in-laws), 84 grandchildren with their 46 spouses, and, at the time of this writing, 168 great grandchildren! I was privileged to be pediatrician to many of the noble 168. I say “noble” because the Donahue family was loved and respected as Pittsburgh royalty, if not international royalty, because of their generosity. Life was guided by 3 pillars: Faith, Family, and Federated--in exactly that order. The family heirloom was the creed: indomitable spirit. Legend has it that she never raised her voice, no matter how disruptive were the children--or the pets! To a man, the family members emphasized to me that, until the day they passed away, Rhodora and Jack remembered the name, hobbies, and aspirations of every individual in the family—down to the newest great grandchild (at the time I write this paragraph, it had increased to 169). It was like remembering the name of every star in the vast sky because you were exempt from senility and memory loss.

“Always remember that your goal in life is to go to Heaven and to help others in every way possible to get there.

A fixture in the Downtown Pittsburgh skyline since 1986, the Federated Building motions toward Heaven.

I’d like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:

I don’t know where it’s likely to go better. —from my favorite poem “Birches” by American poet Robert Frost (1874-1963)

However, it was essentially through my interactions with the grandchildren of Rhodora---the parents of the noble 168—that I received a glimpse into her

“Grandma (or Great Grandma D as the youngest generation called her) forgets nothing. She sends notes and birthday wishes to every single one of us” I heard to a man from every grandchild and great grandchild who could speak. “Our parents had the unmistakable gift of making each one of us feel that we were individually loved,” remembers the couple’s youngest daughter, Rebecca Foxhoven. A challenge to each and every one of us health care providers to do the same!

I appeared overwhelmed by these reports during the encounters, but became skeptical as Rhodora was in her nineties. However, time and time again she proved me wrong, sending cards and letters addressed directly to me. We became like pen pals. One year, I convinced the family member responsible for publishing the “Lyons Family Calendar” to add Rhodora’s photograph on her birthday April 18th as an honorary guest and celebrity.

Several years ago I asked my mother-in-law what advice a

Continued on Page 10 nonagenarian who raised a dozen children would give to the parents of today; Mary Irene explained with a serious expression that the parents must learn how to say “no” to their children’s demands. I asked Rhodora the same question and she wrote back to me “Live your values.” Wisdom of two sages, who agreed that the trials and tribulations of raising a large family during the socially turbulent 1960’s and 70’s required an unwavering faith in a Higher Power, described here in the influential poem “The Gate of the Year” by Minnie

Louise Haskins in 1908:

‘God Knows’

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown”. And he replied:

“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way”. So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night. And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

I found out about Rhodora’s passing before Christmas from her obituaries in social media. I was astonished by the inscrutable irony of it all when several days later I received what seemed to me to be a “Heavenly Christmas card” directly from Rhodora in the mail at my home complete with the annual bulletin portraying the extended family lines of all 13 of her children.

The return Christmas card here presented requires no postage!

The prophet Mohammed taught his followers that the most challenging task of the followers of Allah was combating the “forgetfulness” germane to the human condition, due to the distractions inherent in serving the individual ego and life’s weary considerations. I think Rhodora’s ultimate legacy will ironically be, not what she as the grand matriarch inspired her family to accomplish, but how she NEVER forgot the mundane but most critical human requisites of living the “good life.” When I opened the Heavenly Christmas card, I recalled the awe I experienced as a pediatrician-in-training beholding the inscription at the base of the Margarita Delacorte Memorial in New York City’s Central Park, featuring characters from “Alice in Wonderland,” which reads:

“In memory of my wife Margarita Delacorte who loved all children”

“Live your values!” I can think of no better examples of “true love” and no better guardian angels than Rhodora and Jack Donahue; they loved all children and all children loved them even more.

While I give to you and you give to me

True love, true love

So on and on it will always be True love, true love

For you and I have a guardian angel On high, with nothing to do But to give to you and to give to me Love forever true.

—from “True Love” by American songwriter Cole Porter

I must thank Rhodora’s granddaughter Jennifer Gott for disclosing to me the quotes and historical memories of the Donahue’s early years together. Ironically, Jennifer started off 2023 by giving birth to noble great grandchild number 170! Another star in the heavenly sky!

References

1. Paranjpe, Deval: I Am My Relationships. Allegheny County Medical Society Bulletin, January, 2023---pages 6-7

This iconic landmark was dedicated to his wife by publisher and philanthropist George Delacorte as a gift to the children of New York City; described as “a kind of slender Santa Claus,” he and his wife had six children in the years when he founded Dell Publishing Company (of comic book fame). Ironically, like Rhodora, the great benefactor died at 97 years of age.

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