Valentine’s Day, with its flowers, candy, dinner dates and all, is a celebration of love. For some lucky folks, every day is Valentine’s Day. How do they do it? Is there a secret to happily ever after? Maybe. I asked a few friends who have been together for years, how they met and what makes it work still. It appears humor has a lot to do with it, and kindness, understanding… well, why waste time, read for yourself.

Rosemary & Bruce Rideout

Bruce and I were high school sweethearts. My dad was career Canadian military. He was transferred from a fairly large army base in New Brunswick to a very small militia depot in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. He has said over and over again he didn’t know who he pissed off to be sent to that lonely outpost. I always remind him, it wasn’t about him, it was about me. I met Bruce there.

We met in grade 9 and dated through high school until my grade 11 year when my dad was transferred to Halifax, about 3 hours away from Yarmouth. Bruce and I thought we ought to be mature (as you can be at 17 years old) and agreed we should date other people while we were apart, but we just never seemed to really get interested in anyone else and when he came up to Halifax to attend Dalhousie University (as he’d planned during that last year we were together) in the fall of my Grade 12, we were together again. That was 1972. We married in 1974. And we’ve been happily married ever since.

The secret to our marriage? Kindness. We rarely say an unkind word to each other. We’ve worked really hard to make sure that any very minor disagreements we’ve had on issues does not translate into dissatisfaction with each other. We have always known that we have the same values and many, many similar interests and we’ve built on those shared qualities rather than dwell on any perceived negative quirks or habits. I try hard to build a really strong team. We do almost everything together; we love the outdoors, camping, volunteer work at the parks, movies and a good glass of red wine.

Carol & Dave Harris

It all began in the reception room of my college dormitory. I was a senior with an eleven o’clock curfew. (That was college life in 1958.) One of the freshman girls in my dorm (Unit A on the SUNY Fredonia campus) was dating a tall handsome guy from town. Her curfew was 10pm. On nights when I had dorm duty I found myself checking her in and then spending the next hour sitting in the reception room visiting with her date. As we talked, common interests came to light such as jazz, Dakota Staton, bridge, the local pub and my roommate’s homemade pies. We began to meet for bridge games in the student union and I looked forward to our ten o’clock chats. Not long into the first semester his orders to report for Air Force duty arrived and we exchanged addresses and said goodbye. He was shipped overseas, I graduated, began teaching, and we exchanged letters. His always ended with a silly poem like, “When you see a cat climb up a tree pull its tail and think of me.” Soon his letters ended with, “When I am discharged I am going to marry you.” The happy event took place on August 4, 1962. During the forty-seven years of our marriage we’ve had smiles and frowns but more ups than downs. We’ve had three wonderful children, two lovely granddaughters, common dreams, comfortable homes, interesting hobbies, good friends, and we’ve happily grown old together. Our secret? Honesty, respect, trust, space, humor and of course love.

Luis & Lupe Valdez

It was April in Paris, so it was remarkably easy to fall in love. We were on tour with El Teatro Campesino, having been invited to the 1969 World Theater Festival in Nancy, France. Back in Berkeley, before we left on our trip, we had performed my play “The Shrunken Head of Pancho Villa” at the Zellerbach Theater. Lupe and I were both in the cast. She was lovely and had been in the company for a full year, but we were not involved yet. At a party after the show someone casually asked her if she was going to pursue a professional acting career. Lupe answered that she honestly didn’t know, that her biggest fear was that she would end up living a boring middle class married life. To which I spontaneously responded, without missing a beat: “Then I guess you’ll have to marry me.” To which she laughingly answered, “¿Nos casamos?” (Shall we get married?) In Paris it became obvious that it had been no joke. We fell in love, head over heels.

Our paths had actually first crossed three years before. Cesar Chavez was leading the Delano Grape Strikers on a 360-mile, 25-day March to Sacramento. El Teatro Campesino was in charge of the nightly rallies in all the small towns we visited. We came to Cutler, in the grape and citrus regions southeast of Fresno, and began to set up a sound system on a flat bed truck, when a local Mexican American labor contractor showed up with two Doberman pinchers. His method of intimidating the workers was childishly simple. He insulted us, daring us to speak in English. I answered him in both English and Spanish. Apparently, my responsewas a hoot, because the crowd laughed him out of the park. Unbeknownst to me,my future mother in law was there, and she urged her beautiful daughter, Lupe Trujillo, to come to the park that night. After graduating from Fresno State two years later, she would become the first university-educated Chicana to “run away with the circus” and join the Teatro. A year later she would become my wife.

We have been married for over forty years now, and we have three grown sons, Anahuac, Kinan and Lakin – all artists and activists in their own right. Love is a life long commitment that must be based on mutual respect, patience and a lot of humor if it is going to last. Ultimately, the most enduring kind of love is what we call cariño, the tender loving care that can heal any misunderstanding and make every single day worth living.

Curt & Kelli Hentschke

Kelli and I met at UCSB when I was a hasher and big brother at her sorority. There were plenty of wonderful girls at that house; when I first met Kelli, however, I remember thinking, “Wow!” She was (and still is) smart, beautiful, and just downright wonderful. The frosting on the cake: we were both studying to become teachers.

We dated through that last college year, and I must admit that I probably moved a little slowly; I just didn’t want to lose her by coming on too strong. The first time we kissed was as we said good-night on the front porch of the Alpha Phi house. I was straddling my bicycle, thinking if she gets mad, I can make a quick getaway! True story.

She must’ve liked that kiss, because, one year later, we married. Eventually, we bought a home in Gilroy, where we’ve lived since 1984. We raised two very special boys and have collectively taught over 50 years for the Gilroy Unified School District. Last August, we celebrated anniversary number 27.

Our advice to others? Faithfulness, patience, and acceptance come to mind. Kelli and I have a favorite saying about marriage: “People marry others because of who they are, then spend the rest of their marriage trying to change them.” If you can fight that temptation, your lives together should turn out just fine.

Paul & Sylvia Myrvold

Sylvia worked in The Big Dipper, a sandwich shop right across the street from San Jose State’s Drama Department. It was the go to place for all us theatre types. Being a randy 21 year-old senior, I flirted shameless with the lovely girl who took my money for sandwiches or scooped out ice cream for my cone. The fact that she was set for a June wedding looked like a speed bump to me. After a few weeks I said, “I live just a half block down Fifth Street. Why don’t you come over for coffee after work?”

To my surprise, she did. As we chatted, the conversation started to reveal unforeseen connections. We were both of Norwegian ancestry. In fact, as we talked, we discovered that our respective grandfathers were born within ten miles of each other. We both loved Bob Dylan. She told me the incredibly romantic story of her parents, how her dad, champion speed skater George Wallace met Inger Dahlberg on a trolley in Oslo where he was the only American to compete in the winter games of 1940. Sylvia was beautiful, smart and talented and a casual flirtation turned suddenly serious. I was gob-smacked.

I asked her to movies the following night,

“Sure,” she replied.

Don’t remember the movie. Her hand was warm and my heart was thumping.

After the movie, the inevitable question. “So…you wanna come up to my place?”

“Sure.”

From that night to this, 41 years, she never went home.

The secret? Laughter and kindness.

Marion & Rod Pintello

From Marion: We met in high school in Southern California when I was fifteen. We were pals, buddies, friends; we cruised and danced and talked on the phone. We’ve always been friends, always had fun together – and we’re still crazy about each other after all these years!

From Rod: Yes, we met in high school, where she was dating my best friend (for a while) and we always were able to have fun together, no matter where we were or who we were with. Our greatest strength has always been our ability to enjoy the moment, and find something funny in most situations. And when we’re apart, we can’t wait to get home and share our experiences with each other. Yes... we are best friends.