Ever since 1981 when my father, Jim Neely, became the director of nursing for the Reformed Presbyterian Home in Pittsburgh, “the Home” has been an indelible part of my life—through childhood and teenage years, as a young adult, and even now as a member of the board of directors. The Home. That’s all we ever called it and it never needed further explanation. When we moved to Pittsburgh we lived above the Home on Maple Avenue. My mom would walk us down the very steep street called Burgess (it was cobblestone at that time).

I was only three or four but was allowed to wander around inside. I remember Dr. Robb, who had a candy dish always full of butterscotch candies (not my favorite, but they were all right). One lady kept trucks in the bottom drawer of her dresser. I would come into her room and she would let me play on the floor. I don’t remember being escorted through the halls. I guess my parents thought I was safe within the secure walls of the ...