I love 'just the right height for kissing'. I am 5' (actually slightly less as my spine has been shrinking) and my husband of 60 years is 6'. He is a great believer in kissing every day (he read somewhere that every couple should kiss for seven seconds every day - he believed it before he read it, but used it as back-up.). The only way we can do this is lying down, sitting down or using the stairs. It works, but I have often wondered what it would be like to have it built-in. Great story, well told as usual - I love "Frances took the husband".
There’s a story from my late childhood (age 11-12?) that when my parents told me that I was likely to be short when I grew up, I asked “but how will I reach my man?” I vaguely remember asking this and getting a lot of laughing from them. But it was a genuine question at the time. Now I can say yes , use the stairs! And lying down is not a bad alternative either. Both work just fine.
I might add that it’s very hard to kiss for seven seconds without laughing. But if I collapse from a combination of kissing and laughing, I couldn’t think of a better way to go.
That sounds serious! You don’t give your loved one’s height but I would guess the disparity is even worse than us. I once met a guy at my dentist who was 7’ (and black) and with a smile on my face and some trepidation, I asked “are we the same species?” Luckily he had a good sense of humour and laughed. Turned out he was an international basketball player!
Molly is 5'5", but all things are equal on the horizontal. The disparity is now easier since I'm in a wheelchair (fully explained in "About" bobhoebekebook.com )
I too played basketball through college. The first time I took Molly to dazzle her with my abilities, I scored 34 that night, came out of the locker-room all puffed up thinking I was the hero, only to have her say, "look how much needlepoint I've gotten done!" Right then I knew I had a winner - and she's kept me in check ever since!
I love it when men talk up their wives. It's a winner every time. My dear husband does the same.
And yes, horizontal is a good way to be. I find myself in that state more and more often these days, as I get tired and need to lie down (I am 82, even though I do keep up my yoga and stand on my head). I will drink my wine to your good health!
Ann, I just learned something similar--only it was six seconds per day--from the Gottmans. So you and your husband have been adding seconds to your kiss bank! :) My guy is very demonstrative. Kissing is de rigueur!
My guy is also very demonstrative. I might have remembered the number wrong, but I asked him and he couldn't remember either. In any case, it's the principle and it is a good one.
Nobody picked me up on it (as noted above), but the first time we tried expressly to kiss for seven seconds, the difficulty of concentrating on the time and concentrating on the kiss was all too much and we fell about laughing. But it was a lovely combination. As i said above, if I collapse from a combination of kissing and laughing, I couldn’t think of a better way to go. You don't know me, Elizabeth, but I am 82 and still like to laugh a lot. Perhaps because of this perspective, I didn't find Frances' decision at all strange, but Rona always tells it well.
The Chagall painting is exquisite and so is your essay. I loved it. And I love Frances for her love of love. The line, "Frances took the husband" reminded me of the Dorothy Parker line when her nosy neighbor asked if there was anything she could get her after her husband died, Parker said, "A ham and cheese on rye." What a great post Rona!
Never. I forget which book I read that in. And she'd hated that neighbor. One of my faves of Ms. Parker was her "suicide" poem. The title makes one shrink, but the verbiage—perfect Parker. You probably know it--short, sweet and definitely to the point.
I met my husband seven years ago when I was 58 and he was 74. I had so much fear about the age difference, just as I have had so much fear around other life-changing experiences. It has been the best seven years of my life and a daily reminder about fear. Never let it stop you.
Liane, thanks so much for sharing your bittersweet experience. Frances would have cheered you on if she could have. I’m sorry for your loss, exhilarated by your surprisingly wonderful seven years.
Oh, that's too funny. Reminds me of the time my sister was coming to Toronto and a Facebook friend offered condolences on her death. I don't know how I jumped to the conclusion he had died. I wish you years and years of happiness.
A great lovely gentle story. Thank you. In 2010 at 66 I wrote my first poem, ‘Unknown certainty’, after a family Christmas conversation about love and old age. I once read a poem in passing when I was a teenager with the line ‘Love has no end in view save parting’. I have tried to find the poem again many times with no success. I’m pleased to report that my wife and I after 50 years, as good as, kiss like there is no tomorrow - old love is far more precious than young love of that I am sure. Kissing someone you love is a forever moment.🐰
“I’m getting married. He’s handsome and funny and just the right height for kissing. And he’s bought me a grand piano!” Can’t argue with any of those reasons. Love this, Rona. Another gem. You bring such positivity and warmth to your stories. I’m following you, certain to find amazement.
Love it, and Frances, and the Chagall. I never thought I’d find love, but I did at 59. We’re both Medicare age now, and not glowing with health…and I do think about one of us going first…and how that would have happened even if we’d been athletic and met in our 20s, so why stress over it? (We are also Mutt and Jeff, but we manage to kiss just fine.)
Another beautiful and thought-provoking post. I’m inspired by my friend Katie who moved from the US to Porto a year ago with her husband. It’s not the expat life that I’m drawn to but the spirit of adventure and openness with which she’s embracing her new life. She’s an artist and able to capture moments of beauty and connection in her photos, paintings and words. Her attitude inspires me to embrace the empty nest phase of my life with positivity.
Such a touching and beautifully written story! I'm sorry to say that my grandmother had a disastrous late-life marriage with a man too poor and too self-centered to take care of himself. He sniffed an opportunity and poured on the love she hadn't really had in her life--and then he turned into an a demanding a-hole. It was so sad. This is a much better story!! And it was a treat to see the picture of you and your sister. I loved hearing her speak at the American Library of Paris last year. And now I've discovered your wonderful writing as well. An embarrassment of riches!
Glad to meet a fan of my sister's here. As for the sad story of your grandmother, Frances had two advantages: past love for the woman she was at heart, and knowledge of her next husband via his late wife. She was wonderfully grounded, more so than almost anyone I've known.
What an inspiration! I've met some women on my travels and during my transition into a new life who have meant so much to me, helping to point the way to a new future. The older women I know, though, seem to have all given up on men. Too much work, not enough time, they say! So this was a lovely story to read.
Frances loved men, not simply being in love. She was her own woman but took pleasure in being a man's woman, a rare quality. In her younger days she wrote erotic poetry.
I am always struck by the ways in which I read essays and hear them in conversations with other pieces I've read by Substack writers. Listening to these wonderful voices in my head telling me it is never too late for love.
My father-in-law died after 44 years of marriage. After a short courtship, my mother-in-law married a recently widowed, family friend. She was 75; he was 78. The firm agreement was each would be buried with their first spouses. But they certainly had fun together before then. They lived well into their nineties.
I love 'just the right height for kissing'. I am 5' (actually slightly less as my spine has been shrinking) and my husband of 60 years is 6'. He is a great believer in kissing every day (he read somewhere that every couple should kiss for seven seconds every day - he believed it before he read it, but used it as back-up.). The only way we can do this is lying down, sitting down or using the stairs. It works, but I have often wondered what it would be like to have it built-in. Great story, well told as usual - I love "Frances took the husband".
Ah, so with stairs no couple is wrongly sized for kissing. And there's always lying down... I love this glimpse of late-life romance.
There’s a story from my late childhood (age 11-12?) that when my parents told me that I was likely to be short when I grew up, I asked “but how will I reach my man?” I vaguely remember asking this and getting a lot of laughing from them. But it was a genuine question at the time. Now I can say yes , use the stairs! And lying down is not a bad alternative either. Both work just fine.
I might add that it’s very hard to kiss for seven seconds without laughing. But if I collapse from a combination of kissing and laughing, I couldn’t think of a better way to go.
That's meant to be seven seconds and counting the time. Of course, in other circumstances, it's a short time.
At 6'8", imagine my difficulties! Yet for forty-six years we've made it work. I love the 'seven second' rule - can't wait to try it out!
Go, Bob! A motivating challenge.
That sounds serious! You don’t give your loved one’s height but I would guess the disparity is even worse than us. I once met a guy at my dentist who was 7’ (and black) and with a smile on my face and some trepidation, I asked “are we the same species?” Luckily he had a good sense of humour and laughed. Turned out he was an international basketball player!
Knowing you are very short...
Molly is 5'5", but all things are equal on the horizontal. The disparity is now easier since I'm in a wheelchair (fully explained in "About" bobhoebekebook.com )
I too played basketball through college. The first time I took Molly to dazzle her with my abilities, I scored 34 that night, came out of the locker-room all puffed up thinking I was the hero, only to have her say, "look how much needlepoint I've gotten done!" Right then I knew I had a winner - and she's kept me in check ever since!
I love it when men talk up their wives. It's a winner every time. My dear husband does the same.
And yes, horizontal is a good way to be. I find myself in that state more and more often these days, as I get tired and need to lie down (I am 82, even though I do keep up my yoga and stand on my head). I will drink my wine to your good health!
Ann, I just learned something similar--only it was six seconds per day--from the Gottmans. So you and your husband have been adding seconds to your kiss bank! :) My guy is very demonstrative. Kissing is de rigueur!
https://www.gottman.com/blog/the-six-second-kiss/
Great insight! Three cheers for the Gottmans--and you and Ann and your lucky spouses.
My guy is also very demonstrative. I might have remembered the number wrong, but I asked him and he couldn't remember either. In any case, it's the principle and it is a good one.
Absolutely, and there's nothing to say longer isn't better. :)
Nobody picked me up on it (as noted above), but the first time we tried expressly to kiss for seven seconds, the difficulty of concentrating on the time and concentrating on the kiss was all too much and we fell about laughing. But it was a lovely combination. As i said above, if I collapse from a combination of kissing and laughing, I couldn’t think of a better way to go. You don't know me, Elizabeth, but I am 82 and still like to laugh a lot. Perhaps because of this perspective, I didn't find Frances' decision at all strange, but Rona always tells it well.
The Chagall painting is exquisite and so is your essay. I loved it. And I love Frances for her love of love. The line, "Frances took the husband" reminded me of the Dorothy Parker line when her nosy neighbor asked if there was anything she could get her after her husband died, Parker said, "A ham and cheese on rye." What a great post Rona!
Thank you, Jeanine, for your encouragement and for Dorothy Parker’s witticism. Was she ever at a loss for words?
Never. I forget which book I read that in. And she'd hated that neighbor. One of my faves of Ms. Parker was her "suicide" poem. The title makes one shrink, but the verbiage—perfect Parker. You probably know it--short, sweet and definitely to the point.
I do indeed, a piquant memory.
I never knew she married!
Not happily!
Thanks for sharing "a ham and cheese on rye," great line that'll work its way into conversation - somewhere...
I'm still reeling from "Frances took the husband." Such a great line!
I've seen late-age marriages like Frances' go horribly wrong. But I guess she knew what she was doing!
Well, you might say this husband came highly recommended.
I met my husband seven years ago when I was 58 and he was 74. I had so much fear about the age difference, just as I have had so much fear around other life-changing experiences. It has been the best seven years of my life and a daily reminder about fear. Never let it stop you.
Liane, thanks so much for sharing your bittersweet experience. Frances would have cheered you on if she could have. I’m sorry for your loss, exhilarated by your surprisingly wonderful seven years.
Oh, he's still alive!! :) I am giggling now. It's STILL the best seven years of my life.
Oh, that's too funny. Reminds me of the time my sister was coming to Toronto and a Facebook friend offered condolences on her death. I don't know how I jumped to the conclusion he had died. I wish you years and years of happiness.
Truly lovely. And so honestly true
Thank you, Susan, for this truly lovely compliment.
A great lovely gentle story. Thank you. In 2010 at 66 I wrote my first poem, ‘Unknown certainty’, after a family Christmas conversation about love and old age. I once read a poem in passing when I was a teenager with the line ‘Love has no end in view save parting’. I have tried to find the poem again many times with no success. I’m pleased to report that my wife and I after 50 years, as good as, kiss like there is no tomorrow - old love is far more precious than young love of that I am sure. Kissing someone you love is a forever moment.🐰
I’m happy for you both. Stories like yours deserve to be celebrated and shared,
“I’m getting married. He’s handsome and funny and just the right height for kissing. And he’s bought me a grand piano!” Can’t argue with any of those reasons. Love this, Rona. Another gem. You bring such positivity and warmth to your stories. I’m following you, certain to find amazement.
Thank you, amazing Mary.
Love it, and Frances, and the Chagall. I never thought I’d find love, but I did at 59. We’re both Medicare age now, and not glowing with health…and I do think about one of us going first…and how that would have happened even if we’d been athletic and met in our 20s, so why stress over it? (We are also Mutt and Jeff, but we manage to kiss just fine.)
Good for you, Carol. Bring on the years of happiness--and the kisses.
Another beautiful and thought-provoking post. I’m inspired by my friend Katie who moved from the US to Porto a year ago with her husband. It’s not the expat life that I’m drawn to but the spirit of adventure and openness with which she’s embracing her new life. She’s an artist and able to capture moments of beauty and connection in her photos, paintings and words. Her attitude inspires me to embrace the empty nest phase of my life with positivity.
Thank you, Abby. I wonder what will land in your empty nest. Something exciting and lovely, I don’t doubt.
Such a touching and beautifully written story! I'm sorry to say that my grandmother had a disastrous late-life marriage with a man too poor and too self-centered to take care of himself. He sniffed an opportunity and poured on the love she hadn't really had in her life--and then he turned into an a demanding a-hole. It was so sad. This is a much better story!! And it was a treat to see the picture of you and your sister. I loved hearing her speak at the American Library of Paris last year. And now I've discovered your wonderful writing as well. An embarrassment of riches!
Glad to meet a fan of my sister's here. As for the sad story of your grandmother, Frances had two advantages: past love for the woman she was at heart, and knowledge of her next husband via his late wife. She was wonderfully grounded, more so than almost anyone I've known.
What an inspiration! I've met some women on my travels and during my transition into a new life who have meant so much to me, helping to point the way to a new future. The older women I know, though, seem to have all given up on men. Too much work, not enough time, they say! So this was a lovely story to read.
Frances loved men, not simply being in love. She was her own woman but took pleasure in being a man's woman, a rare quality. In her younger days she wrote erotic poetry.
Love her!
This is beautiful, fun, wise, a treasure. Thank you.
Thank you, Christiana.
This is beautiful, Rona. And I think “which one of us will go first” (and drive my husband a little crazy when I say it out loud) all the time.
Thank you. It’s not morbid, it’s realistic (and, in your case, precocious).
Hopefully precocious! (Have lost too many friends in their 40s and 50s!) <3
I love this post. Most joyful thing I’ve read in weeks, thank you!
Welcome, Jen. I am honored to bring you joy.
This also reminded me of the lovely story @Caroline Leavitt wrote about her mother finding love in senior housing at age 93. Caroline has a new novel out everyone is talking about. I love her nonfiction essays. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/one-true-thing/201610/my-mothers-first-love-age-93-caroline-leavitt
I must take a look. Thanks for the tip, Jill.
I am always struck by the ways in which I read essays and hear them in conversations with other pieces I've read by Substack writers. Listening to these wonderful voices in my head telling me it is never too late for love.
Just read the essay. Poignant and perfect.
My father-in-law died after 44 years of marriage. After a short courtship, my mother-in-law married a recently widowed, family friend. She was 75; he was 78. The firm agreement was each would be buried with their first spouses. But they certainly had fun together before then. They lived well into their nineties.
What a heartening story. Old people don't stand on ceremony, I've noticed. They forge ahead.
She got it right. I try to think and act like she has. Sometimes it's a challenge. Live on!
It’s a challenge for me as well. That’s why I told the story.