an autumn love story

8/9/2019 An Autumn Love Story

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An Autumn Love Story

by

Tom Allen

© 2010 All rights reserved



An Autumn Love Story

If you had asked me when I was in my twenties whether two people seventy years old couldhave a passionate love affair, I would have laughed at you. After all, they would have been older than my grandparents! Maybe they could sit side by side in two rocking chairs holding hands, but

that is about as physical a relationship as I could have imagined at that advanced age. I would have been so wrong! This is a true story about real love in the Autumn years of life.

Kate and I celebrated our third anniversary in November, 2009. I joked to friends that it wasactually our collective 95 th anniversary, since each of us had been married for 46 years to our latespouses before their deaths. We celebrated our third honeymoon with a week’s vacation in Florida.Actually, the life we were living was all one long honeymoon, which ended only with her death of amassive heart attack the following week.

We really have limited control of what others think of us. Those who didn’t know us wellthought of my wife, Kate, as a sweet, refined, quiet woman. Those who didn’t know me well

thought of me as stiff, reserved, and aloof. It is odd how easily people can form opinions that aretotally mistaken. The story of our marriage and life together certainly did not reflect thosecharacterizations. We were certainly neither quiet or reserved – quite the opposite. Kate had awarm, playful, loving, and mischievous side that most people never knew of. And I was anything

but stiff and aloof. I discovered that you could indeed fool some of the people all of the time.

I will always remember her as she was in the first picture I ever took of her, beforewe became engaged. I have many pictures of her during our three years of marriage,

but this still remains my favorite. She looked lovely then, and never ceased to do so.How she managed this without the help of cosmetic techniques must have comefrom her genes.

My first wife and I met Kate and her husband in the early 1980s, when theylived across the valley from us near Pittsburgh. Our friendship continued to grow as time passed,and her husband and I became closer, serving on our church board together. When I was elected aschairman, the board confirmed my friend as my assistant, and we worked well together. Bothcouples were very active in the church for many years.

As time went on, the two families met at either their house of ours for holiday dinners andcelebrations. In time, we were more of an extended family, including our children, rather than justtwo couples who knew each other. When we got together, it seemed that the men talked mostly toeach other, as did the ladies. While we didn’t ignore each other, it wasn’t our main objective to havea four-way conversation. I never really got to know my friend’s wife, although I enjoyed her company and admired her sense of humor, cuteness, and her winning ways. She was my friend’swife, after all, and that kept me from showing any further interest, or becoming closer to her.

We drifted apart during her husband’s later years, as his body began to succumb toParkinson’s and his mind to the ravages of Alzheimer’s, but still met occasionally at the nursinghome and their condo. In 2003, while my first wife and I were in Australia visiting our friends, wegot word of his passing. How the Lord kept an amazing and desirable woman like his wife availablefor me for three years, I will never know, but will be eternally thankful.

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After our return that spring, my wife was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and her long slidedownhill began. Kate had nursed her husband for a number of years, and it was now my turn to bethe caregiver. At each remission, our hopes rose, but I was aware from discussions with anOncologist friend that the outcome was pretty certain, barring a miracle.

The fall of 2005 began the final decline that led to her death on the late evening of February1, 2006. The following months were a real trial. While I knew the near-certain outcome of her disease, and had been grieving for a long time, I was unprepared for the sense of loss and beingalone, and I became somewhat of a recluse. Finally, on Memorial Day, I agreed to attend a large

picnic held by a friend’s family. It was a depressing experience, as couple after couple came over tome to tell me how sorry they were about my wife’s death. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer, andleft early to lick my wounds. Little did I know that life was about the change radically.

In early June, our friends arrived from Australia for a ten-day visit. One of their must-dos for each visit was a trip to an outlet mall, an hour north of where we lived. I dreaded that day, since Iwould have to follow them around like a puppy dog, then I had an inspiration. I remembered thatKate had gone with my first wife and me to the mall in the past, and hoped she would join us for thetrip. She knew our friends from earlier visits, and I was delighted when she agreed to join us.

We all chatted comfortably on the way up, and sent the ladies off to shop. At noon, we took a break and had lunch at a nearby country inn, then shopped some more. Maybe it wasn’t a real“date,” but I did enjoy her company immensely, and she seemed to enjoy herself as well. At the endof the day, we dropped her off at the condo, and she gave us a quick tour.

In the weeks that followed, my daughter kept asking me when I was going to take my friend’swidow out to lunch or dinner. After spending a great deal of time keeping me company, she told mysister that I needed some grownup friends. She said that my friend’s widow and I both needed“companionship” and someone to share our loneliness with.

I finally agreed. The evening started with a drink at her condo, followed by dinner at a nearbyhotel. We sat at a table in the bar across from each other, and I was suddenly struck with just how

beautiful, funny, attractive, clever and charming she really was. (How I had missed that in all theyears I knew her, I will never know.) After sharing our grief for fifteen minutes or so, the eveningwas spent in real conversation. As the evening wore on, I realized that this was a truly delightfulwoman whom I had known for years, but never really knew. I was blown away.

When I dropped her off at the condo, I think she was expecting a peck on the cheek.I couldn’t help myself, and gave her a real kiss. She later told a friend that it had made her toes curl. It certainly was electric for me, as well, and I told her to expect a call from me soon.On the way home, I took the wrong ramp on the interstate, and made a ten-mile unplanned detour. Ihad my head in the clouds.

As we continued to meet, we became progressivelymore comfortable with each other, and I became more certainof my feelings. I had fallen totally and completely in love withher. As we sat on her deck overlooking the park in the lateafternoons (which had become a regular event), I started anumber of conversations with, “After we are married, do youthink ………. .. “

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She didn’t visibly react, but told her daughter, “He started using the “M” word.”

After a few more weeks, it occurred to me that I had never really asked her to marry me, and just assumed that is what would happen. I finally popped the question, and to my relief she said“Yes” and jumped on my lap and gave me a big kiss.

She invited me in for a nightcap after the first few dinners, and I gladly accepted. She sat on aside chair facing a very uncomfortable love seat, which seemed to be where I was supposed to sit.After sitting there and chatting a while, I asked whether she wouldn’t be more comfortable sitting

beside me. She didn’t answer or hesitate, but came over and sat by my side.

It seemed only normal to put my arm around her, since after all, it was a love seat. We bothseemed to be in the mood to cuddle, and did our best that the unyielding furniture would allow.After our long history of care-giving, we were both really hungry for affection. Here we were, bothnear seventy, and feeling like teenagers.

As time passed, we discovered that the sitting room couch was far more comfortable, andgave up the fiction of the protection of that rigid love seat. It was far more pleasant.

I decided that the decent thing to do would be to have a complete physical, so I scheduledone. Everything seemed to be OK, but my doctor suggested I also visit a psychological counselor.I was a little nonplused at his suggestion but agreed. I asked him “Why?” He said, “Well, if you aregoing to be making love to your best friend’s wife, you need to make sure you are O.K. about it.”

The counselor was harmless enough, and we chatted on two occasions. Finally he saidthat everything seemed just fine to him, but did I have any reservations whatsoever? I answered thatI didn’t, but was concerned that my daughter might think it was too soon after her mother’s deathfor me to remarry.

He suggested that I handle it by asking her what she thought would be an appropriateinterval. Once she answered, he said, it would then be a matter of negotiating the exact timing.Great idea, I thought.

It turned out that all the conniving was totally unnecessary. The next day when I talked to mydaughter, she asked, “When are you two going to get off your butts and get married?” Case closed.

As we continued to get to know each other, I asked if she would mind if I called her “Kate.”instead on Katie. To me, Katie was my best friend’s wife, and I wasn’t comfortable calling her bythat name, especially when we were being romantic. It wasn’t a problem to her, since her wholefamily in Ohio called her nothing else.

We spent nearly all of our free time together, including shopping and outings to such eventsas festivals and the Highland Games in Ligonier. Everywhere we went we looked and felt like acouple who had been together for years and years (except for the hand holding). We just couldn’tget enough of each other.

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We even visited an abandoned blast furnace plant, where I couldexplain some of the business things I had talked about, but never couldmake her understand. And she did look good in a hard hat!

We did everything together, and I was disappointed to learn that she had promised to babysither grandchildren in Dallas for two weeks in October. The weekend she was to return, I was hostingfive fraternity brothers and their wives at my house for Homecoming Weekend.

A divorced friend, an early arrival, warned me to expect a “pity party” for my late wife, and that I needed to spring the news of our upcoming wedding early on. I decided the most subtle thing would be togive everyone a copy of our wedding invitation. It caused a wonderfulcommotion, and they all wished me the best.

The following day, while the crowd was at the football game, I picked her up at the Airportand brought her home. At cocktail time, the old college crowd got to meet her. Needless to say, shefit in easily, and became a member of the group almost instantly, and remained so.

I introduced her to some of my other friends she knew slightly or not at all. One friend asked

her how she would adapt to living in the big house. It was a country manor house that had beenoriginally built as a 24-room summer “cottage” for one of Pittsburgh’s steel barons in 1915.

She replied that it would be no problem, since she had grown up in a house like that. I gaveher sort of a funny look, but didn’t interrupt, and our friends had a look of disbelief. As I learnedmore of her background, it all became clear.

It turned out that she had grown up in a small town in Ohio, and I in a small suburb of Pittsburgh. She had spent some time living with a wealthy grandmother in a river-side mansion,nearly as large as my house, some at her other grandmother’s on her family farm, as well as in asmall frame house in the town with her parents, so she learned to accommodate to whatever circumstances she found herself in.

My own upbringing was relatively dull, and since I was not athletic found an outlet in BoyScouts, debating, and reading. Summers were spent on our family farm, so I understood some of her talk about her grandmother’s family farm in Ohio. Ours was really my father’s hobby farm, wherehe could get close to the soil on weekends. It was also a chance to use my five sisters and me asslave laborers, when some of the crops needed to be picked.

We had decided on an early November wedding, and since she would be in Dallas with her grandchildren, it was up to me to get the invitations done, arrange for the reception, and become the“mother of the bride” as well as the groom. I liked the “groom“ part, but wasn’t sure I was cut outto be the mother of the bride.

It was only nine months after my first wife’s death, and a small weddingseemed appropriate. The chapel in our new church seated only eighty, so thatkept the guest list short.

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It was a lovely chapel wedding, followed by a catered reception in our new home together. We even sneaked off to the bar during the reception for some personal time, but got caught. The two of us couldn’t stop smiling andtouching each other. It seemed too good to be true.

But it was!

At the end of the reception, her kids and my daughter didn’t want theevening to end, so we ended up being taken to the airport hotel, arriving at 2:30AM, and had to get up and check in at 6:00 AM for our flight to Bermuda. Ashort,sleepy wedding night? Oh yes. Never fear, we made up for it later.

Bermuda was a place I had often visited, but Kate had been there only once. She had stayedin the West End, near St. George’s, but I always preferred the East End, in Paget Parish. I got aMoped, had her fitted with a helmet, and off we went exploring, with her hanging on for dear life.

We went from one end of the island to the other, and back again, visiting the huge fort at the Naval Dockyard.When she was younger, she had always dragged her kidsinto visiting forts when they traveled. She had finally foundone that was too big for even her taste (the walls werenearly a mile around). “Never again,” she said, “do I want tovisit another Fort!”

I also didn’t know that all hotels in Bermuda had been forced to adopt a strict “NoSmoking” policy. So some evenings the two of us would sit on the porch of our cottage, while shetried to stay dry and I had my evening cigarette. Only a real lover would sit outside in a chillydrizzle to keep her husband company while he had a cigarette.

In November, the ocean water was getting a bit chilly, so somedays we just sat on the beach in the sun, and only waded. We stayed in what usedto be a fine cottage colony hotel, the Ariel Sands, but it was in the process of beingconverted to a condo development, and the main building of the hotel was to bethe clubhouse.

Many afternoons I would go down to the main hotel building tokeep up with emails and the stock market. Kate would just sit inthe sun by our cottage and read.

Or for just a quick nap before dinner.

Some days, we would godown to the Elbow Beach Club,where Kate found a chair that was

just her size, and I found the terrace bar.

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When we got home, we had some adjustments to make. I told her that every morning my firstwife would bring a cup of coffee up to the bathroom for me to drink while I was shaving.

She told me, “Cherish that memory!” Rats!

But the next morning when I woke up, a new four-cup coffee maker was in the bathroom, andthe coffee nicely brewed.

After our first breakfast at home, I cleared my empty plate off the table and took it to thesink. She seemed pleased and surprised, and told me it was such a nice gesture. Since I always hadto clear my own place when I was widowed, it didn’t seem like such a big deal to me, but if it

pleased her, all the better. Through our married life, we both always went out of our way to pleaseone another. Everything we did for each other was so much mutually appreciated, that we couldn’tstop trying to find new ways to bring joy to each other, in small and large ways.

Once we were back home, Kate began to rearrange things that the hired help had left in

disarray during my first wife’s illness. She found candles stored in five different places.

To me, it seemed more like she was “playing house” and loving every minute of it, butshe did get an incredible amount accomplished, and kept at it as long as we were married. WhenI finally do move, the job will be much easier.

Thanksgiving dinner went off without a hitch, and the place looked lovely. Kate pulled off her first major entertainment at our home as if she had lived here her whole life. And she mademe feel as if she had. What a woman! And she was now mine. Life had really begun again, and Icould hardly wait for the next chapter.

Our first Christmas together was a joy to us both. There is nothing as pleasing as trimming a tree together, and we both loved it. We put our ornaments from both families together to make it an “us” tree, to our mutualdelight. It was a happy tree, with two very happy people working together tomake it so.

After Christmas we began to plan for the balance of the winter . She had told me beforewe were married that she had promised her 95-year old uncle that she would go to Florida with himfor February and March. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but knew she needed to honor her commitment. After all, we could always fly back and forth to visit.

She enjoyed her first snowfall at our home before she left for Florida,and showed her playful and winsome side by building a snowman in the frontcircle. I looked at it and decided it would look better as a snow-woman, andadded the boobs. You can see by the smile on her face that she approved.

Her uncle’s condo in Florida had a small guest room with a private bath, and moreimportantly, a queen size bed. It was a three-story building in a gated community, with a lanai thatoverlooked a small canal. Small, but very pleasant. Her uncle wasn’t born yesterday. Every day, hewould claim he had an errand to run, and would be gone for two hours or so, leaving the two of usalone. What a nice man!

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My 70 th birthday party celebration was scheduled for two weeksafter I left for Florida, and she flew up the week before to make plans.She stayed ten days, and we quickly got back into the routine.

After she left, it would only be two weeks until I flew down again, butthe time passed slowly. After only three months of marriage, the houseseemed really empty with her.

Her taste in clothes when she was a widow was consciously planned to be as modest andunappealing as possible, so that when she went to the store, no one, especially men, would noticeher. For three years, she seemed to dress in nothing but baggy clam-diggers and sweatshirts,sometimes with a kerchief over her head. Those days would now be gone!

On my next trip to visit her in Florida, I took her over to Dillard’s department store to outfither to my taste. I got a real kick out of updating her wardrobe, and really had a ball doing it, and

picked out a suit, several striped tops, and two blue blazers for her. The sales clerk asked if I wasgoing to buy her a yacht to go with the outfits.

That taste for shopping led me deeper and deeper into buying women’s clothing of all sorts,mostly classics, but others a bit on the very personal side. I discovered that once you order clothingfrom a women’s clothing website, you are bombarded with emails on an almost daily basis, tryingto persuade you to buy more. She loved them all, and wore the somewhat racier items only at home,mainly to please me. (We did clean out her lingerie drawers of some of the more risqué items beforeher daughter came to help dispose of her clothes.)

We settled into pattern that pleased us both. We went out to dinner with friends almostweekly, but less often to movies, charity benefits, shows or concerts. We never really discussed it,

but at least from my side, I would rather be home talking with her than anywhere else. I’m sure shefelt the same.

She kept busy all day, mainly straightening up the house and preparing for the eventualmove. At four, she would lie down for ten minutes or so with a book. By the time I got home, shehad started on another jigsaw puzzle, one of her passions.

I supposed I am a bit of a male chauvinist, but my lifestyle is stuck in the 1950s. She had been working very hard in the house, and for three nights in a row, I came home to find her in blue jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers. As gently as I could, I suggested that it would be really nice tocome home and see her dressed more formally. She wasn’t really thrilled with the idea and pouted a

bit, but gave it a try. After a week or so, she commented that it really gave her a lift to clean up,change and put on makeup before I came home. I was very, very pleased.

We went out of our way to please each other in so many ways. After hearing that the bathroom towels smelled of cigarette smoke, I banned smoking on the Second Floor. She had a“thing” about appliances being on the kitchen counter, so every time we used a toaster or toaster oven, it got tucked away in a cupboard. I had a fetish about the kitchen sink being thoroughly clean,and soon there was not a crumb to be seen. Small things meant a lot to both of us.

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Each evening between five and six, I would get home and mix our two drinks. In thesummertime, we sat out on the upper terrace until the sun set, talking a blue streak for hours. I think I learned her whole life story, and she mine, as well as much, much more. Come autumn, we movedto the twin leather chairs by the fireplace.

Many evenings, we would have snacks or cheese and crackers with our drinks. Some nights,while we were still chatting at 9:00, she would ask, “Cheese and Crackers for Dinner?” Now I callthat time of day, “Arsenic Hour.” It is the hardest time to be alone. Fortunately, I have some friendswho are willing to stop by weekly for whiskey and cigars.

In May, we went back to Bermuda again (I am not all that creative in vacation planning), but wanted to try a different hotel. We ended up at The Horizons, which had a terrace with a panoramic view of the ocean. The suite had a sitting room, bedroom, and terrace, which was very pleasant. The next year, the Horizons was also torn down, to make way for another condodevelopment. The old Bermuda with the small cottages and charming manor houses was quickly

passing away.

When we returned home, the property had become untended and overgrown in the previousthree years, and she knew exactly what was needed. The first thing was to cut down all of the sumactrees, which had tried to take over. Some below the garden were so tall and full that they blockedthe view across the valley. Every week, she worked on her to-do list, and took over direction of thetwo men I had hired to do yard work.

She was now managing a staff of six, including the gardener, two yard men and the cleaningladies, all part-time. I wondered how she would handle it. I shouldn’t have worried; she took over like she had done it all her life. She had such a pleasant manner, but a firm sense of what needed to

be done. Every single worker came to love her, and would do anything she asked.

One of the yard men would stop by my office weekly to get paid, and would always tell me proudly, “Kate really liked what we did to the hedges (or whatever) today.” They seemed asinterested in pleasing her as I was.

Since we knew the house would eventually go on the market, we paid a lot of attention tothe outside appearance, and trimmed and planted shrubs everywhere. The place had really shapedup on the outside, but the inside would wait until fall.

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Living with her was such a pleasure. For the whole time, we acted likelovebirds, but tried not to show it in public. (We didn’t want to shatter everyone’s staid image of us.) At every chance we would touch one another, ina very loving way. (See bum-patting picture on the right.) At night, no matter what time I finally crawled into bed, she would slide over and put her back against my chest in the “spoon” position. I would put my arm around her waistand cuddle, then we would fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The next summer, I took her to an old hangout on the Jersey Shore, the Golden Inn, wherefour couples, who had been friends for a very long time, had spent years visiting with their childrenin the past. We ate at some of my old favorite restaurants, and visited some other hangouts. Shedidn’t seem at all to mind that she was visiting places where my late wife and I used to go. My goalwas to have her share in memories of places that I had loved, and make them ours as well.

At Christmas, we threw our first formal cocktail party. Once again, I wondered how wellshe would handle being the hostess at such a party. My fears were groundless. Kate greeted theguests at the door, escorted them into the living room, and made introductions to make themimmediately comfortable. Time and again, she did the same thing, to my amazement. There seemedto be nothing she couldn’t do, and do it with style and flair.

We didn’t have a caterer, and she had prepared all the food herself, and served it buffetstyle. She was very frugal, and thought that paying the fish store $100.00 for a salmon fillet wasobscene when she could buy one at a wholesale warehouse for $20.00 and cook it herself. All of theguests seemed quite pleased, and I had no idea how she had pulled it together as if it was nothing atall. Just incredible!

She was disappointed that I hadn’t made plans to go to Florida that winter. I had a better idea. I would take her on a four-week Round-the-World trip, mostly in the southern hemispherewhere it was summer. Her eyes got as big as saucers when I told her. She said she felt like a

princess in a fairy tale. I felt like the luckiest man alive to have her as my wife.

We started off flying to LA and visiting the Hearst Castle inSan Simeon, which she had seen years before. Finally she got to showme something I hadn’t seen. We had packed summer clothes in onesuitcase for California, but discovered that the cold, rainy weather required opening the one we had planned to use in London.

The next stop was Sydney, Australia, a very long flight away. I had booked a hotel where Ihad stayed on earlier trips in the “Rocks” section, down by the harbor, between the Harbor Bridgeand the Opera House. A block away was the “Circular Quay,” where ferryboats constantly plied inand out. It is supposedly the second busiest ferry terminal in the world, after Hong Kong.

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Sydney Harbor is one of the world’s loveliest sights. It goes inland for miles, with side branches every mile or so. We bought some day tickets that allowed us unlimited stops on the ferry,and visited nearly all of the harbor-side attractions.

I especially wanted to show her the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney. She asked whatsort of museum it was, and I couldn’t really answer. “It’s sort of a special museum and veryinteresting,” was the best I could come up with.

When we go there, the first hall was an exhibit of Australian women’s clothing through the

centuries. I quickly zipped through there and on to the Locomotive Hall. I had always loved steamengines, and these were terrific examples. After half an hour, I began to wonder what had happenedto her. I found her still working her way through the Australian women’s clothing display.

Our favorite exhibit was a children’s play area, where the children pretended to be construction workers, moving and building with foamrubber bricks. They all looked so cute in their safety vests and hard hats.

After a while, I was ready for a smoke break (to her dismay). When we went out into thecourtyard of the museum, we discovered a teeter-totter, with cannonball counter weights. Whocould refuse? I still love these pictures and the memories they bring back.

At the end of the day, she told me how much she had enjoyed it, and then understood why Icouldn’t tell her exactly what kind of museum it was. In all of our married life, she always seemedto enjoy whatever we did. I tried my best to make life interesting and enjoyable for her, and itseemed to be working. And she made life wonderful for me!

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After Sydney, we flew over to Adelaide in the middle of the southcoast, to visit our friends who had accompanied us on our first “date.” Theyhad by now become fast friends, and gave us a tour of the surrounding winecountry. Every time we visited one another, we became even closer friends.

Perth, our next stop, was on the West Coast of Australia, and enjoyed a Mediterraneanclimate. Our suite had a porch overlooking a harbor-side park, and we would sit for hours watchingchildren playing there. A group of seven or eight-year old girls were celebrating a birthday in the

park. They were in constant motion and full of youth and joy to our delight.

I had a day’s business to do to meet with a manager who was leaving his company, and had awealth of experience with our machines. Kate made good use of her time, locating and buying out acrafts market and visiting the Maritime Museum.

That out of the way, we were off to South Africa. She was almost dancing around withexcitement, and told me that this trip was a “dream come true.” It certainly was for me, as well.Her enthusiasm for absolutely everything made me again feel really confident that we were madefor each other.

For a few days we stayed in Johannesburg at a hotel that I hadstayed in for over ten years, and really liked. The hotel’s huge atriumlooked down on the Lounge and Koi pond, and had a tenth floor outdoor

pool deck. It is still one of my favorite hotels in the world.

The next day, we headed north to Polokwane, in LimpopoProvince, the far northern part of South Africa. I had to make a courtesycall on a client there, and he suggested a hotel for our stay that he thoughtmy wife would enjoy. We both did.

It was located in a Game Reserve about half an hour from our client’s plant. Within theReserve was a special area for only lions. We had a private tour of the whole reserve with our ownguide, and were told that the lions, while not tame, we manageable. He said that most films thatinclude shots of lions had that segment filmed in that reserve. That might have explained the longrunway on the place, suitable for small jets.

At one point, the guide jumped out of the truck, and asked if we wantedto see the lion roar. He poked him with a long white stick, and the lion yawnedat him. To me, it looked like a roar, and I’m sticking to my story.

I left her at the hotel as I went to my meeting. The hotel had several lovely swimming poolsand lush tropical gardens. When I came back to pick her up after lunch, she told me of her experience in the dining room, where she was the only white person, amid a sea of very large black women. “Not to worry,” she said, “It was a Methodist Women’s Conference, so I felt very safe.”

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Our last stop was London, where I had booked what looked like a very British Hotel. Mostof the tourist hotels were ultra modern and very cold looking, but this one was charming. It was alsohorrendously expensive, since the pound had risen to two U.S. dollars.

We did the usual tourist things, and took in the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey,Covent Garden, and all the other usual sights. After doing a guided bus tour one day, we venturedout on our own with an all-day bus pass the next. We felt like we were really experienced travelers,and had a ball finding our way around independently.

The weather in London was astonishing. Here it was, the end of February,and the fruit trees were in bloom and daffodils poking up everywhere. As aresult, we never did need the heavy clothing we had packed for our visit toLondon.

The only time we needed them, oddly enough, was in California. As we say in Pittsburgh,“Go Figure!”

After slogging through the rest of the winter at home, we began planning what was to be our

last trip to Bermuda. For years, my first wife and I had stayed at a charming hotel, The Newstead,which overlooked Hamilton Harbor, the docks, and the city. It had been torn down the year beforeand replaced with an all-suite hotel of the same name.

What I loved about the old (and the new) Newstead was theharbor view. Instead of watching waves come and go, there was constanttraffic in the harbor, from Bermuda Fitted Sailing Dingy races to OceanLiners. It was an ever-changing scene.

Kate loved to travel – anywhere – anytime, and we did! One trip took us to Bar Harbor,Maine, to help celebrate my sister’s 80 th Birthday. On the way, we stopped over in SaratogaSprings, and had breakfast trackside, while watching the horses being exercised.

We visited other spots on extended business trips and some on pure vacation time. When business took me to Ontario, we spent time in Niagara-on-the Lake, a charming resort town.On the occasion of a family funeral, I even took her down to Baltimore and Annapolis, whereshe got to meet some of my first wife’s family. They assured me that I had chosen well. On a trip toSouth Carolina, we extended the trip to allow us time together in Charleston, and time to visit the

plantations along the river.

She had told me that one of her life dreams was to visit Biltmore,the Vanderbilt Estate in the mountains of North Carolina, and off we went.Although the mountain area was supposed to be cool and comfortable itwas stiflingly hot, and very humid. We spent only two days in Asheville,and then cut across the state to Wrightsville Beach and visited with friendsnearby. If you are going to be hot anyway, why not do it at the ocean-side?

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As always, the simplest things seemed to give both of us great pleasure. Our balcony at thehotel overlooked the entire beach, and once again, the children we could see below provided our entertainment. There were a series of small dunes on the beach, each about six feet high. A little

boy, about four years old, kept trying and trying to climb up one of the dunes, sliding back downagain and again. Finally, he made it to the top, and raised both arms high to celebrate hisaccomplishment. We couldn’t hear him, but I am sure he was saying “TA-DAH!”

In the winter of 2009, the state of the economy ruled out a major trip south. Kate wasdisappointed, but loved the view of our home in the snow. I took pity on her, and arranged a ten-daytrip to the Dominican Republic. We had a customer there who had been our major spare partscustomer. When I went to visit them, I discovered that the plant was on an extended shut-down.

Instead of a business trip, we played tourist, and visited the oldColonial city and the castle of Columbus’ son, when he was governor of all of the Spanish possessions in the new world. We also visited theBotanical Gardens, Zoo, and she enjoyed the train ride that took usaround.

In the early summer of 2009, she found bags in the attic filled with plastic replicas of straw boater hats. They had been left over from a charity event held years before, and we were ready to pitch them. That same evening, we watched a movie that had a scene on the back lawn of anEnglish Country Estate. The men were all wearing boaters, and the women floppy hats, all while

playing croquet. Voila!, we thought, now we know what to do with the hats, we’ll have a GardenParty.

We both worked for a month or so preparing everything, and even scouted around to locatescones and Devonshire Clotted Cream. We rented tents for shelter in case of rain, and she madefloral centerpieces for all of the tables. An eighty year old friend agreed to serve tea.

We suggested that the guests might want to wear appropriate clothing, and they got into thespirit of things with a vengeance. Such ladies’ hats I had never seen before! Most of the men had onsome type of white clothing, as if preparing for a formal croquet match.

The evening was a great success, and once again, Kate was a terrific hostess. As tired as wewere, we stayed up until the last guests left at 2:00 AM. She had never met some of the guests

before, since many were friends of mine from years past. By the end of the evening, she hadcharmed them all.

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We spent out last full week together at a resort in Naples, Florida,where I took what was to be my last picture of her. We returned home onSaturday. The following Thursday morning, an EMS ambulance took her to the ER, where efforts to save her were unsuccessful.

Little did I ever expect that all too soon she would be gone and in the arms of our Lord. Shemay be gone, but will never be forgotten by anyone who knew and loved her.

There are likely more exciting love stories in the world, but no two people could ever haveloved each other more deeply and passionately than we did. Who would have thought that twoseventy-year olds could regain their youth and vigor for three incredible years?

The Autumn of life is not what some people fear it can be.

It can be the loveliest season of all.

It was for us.

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an autumn love story

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