A few months ago, Maggie Washo and Jevon Daly reached out on Facebook to readers, looking to interview residents who had made it to 90 years old and beyond. Originally, the thought was to ascertain what these people had in common – if any commonalities existed. While they didn’t get exactly what they were searching for, the duo did have enjoyable conversations with lovely people who have been on this planet for a time. The dialogue veered sporadically from the price of gas and raising children to meeting celebrities, square dancing, politics, war, and the dangers of motorcycles.
What follows are snippets of these interviews.
This is the second part in a continuing series. See the next installments in our upcoming issues.
On Love & Marriage and Raising Children
Tom and Nancy Kemeny
Status: In their mid-80s, married for 61 years.
Tom Kemeny: People don’t get married because the dynamics change when you marry. A boy and girl meet, they live together, they’re happy. It’s all fresh, it’s fun, it’s sexy. Then you have the marriage, and it just has a different vibe.
Jevon Daly: Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.
TK: It just puts a different dynamic onto your relationship. Now, I married when I was 21, when I met Nancy.
Nancy Kemeny: I was 23.
TK: It’s the most unbelievably fortunate and best thing that could have ever happened to anybody in the world – to meet Nancy, and for her to agree to marry me. She’s the most incredibly kind, generous, wonderful person that you could possibly meet. We now have two daughters, 10 grandchildren aged 18 to 38, three great-grandchildren aged 5 to 14, and another two on the way.
In fact, I think that Nancy is a saint, and I have it from reliable sources that the Vatican is fast tracking her sainthood instead of waiting 30 years after she dies. So having said that, the secret of our marriage is not to agree on anything. There is nothing we agree on. It doesn’t matter if we’re discussing what restaurant to go to, where to vacation, what presents to buy, whom to invite … it doesn’t matter what it is, we don’t agree on anything.
Maggie Washo: Right.
NK: Are you married, Maggie?
MW: I’m not.
TK: Not agreeing adds an interesting dynamic to our relationship because it’s not predictable. Not agreeing is one of our great strengths – it’s something that binds us together, as opposed to pulling us apart. I think it’s too easy to marry and it’s too easy to divorce. I’m guessing almost half of marriages end up in divorce. And when you have children, it’s just a terrible thing. It’s traumatic. The children never get over all these mixed marriages. I don’t think they really work, personally.
NK: Mixed marriages?
MW: A Brady Bunch-type situation. These kids plus those kids.
TK: So, we’ve been married 61 years, and Nancy doesn’t want me to tell you this, but virtually the first week after we were married (in Goldsboro, North Carolina), we were in a taxi in New York and I mentioned to the taxi driver that we were just freshly married and he says, “I want to share with you the secret of my happy marriage. In a marriage you’ll have a lot of discussions and disagreements. You’ll fight. Make sure that you make up every night. Don’t let your wife go back to her parents. Don’t let her move out of the house – or even go to a different room. Make sure you make up every night and sleep in the same bed.” Now I know it sounds corny …
NK: It sure is.
TK: … but it does work because it forces you to settle any differences. I guess the older you are, the less passionate you are about your disagreements and tantrums you might have, right?
MW: Sure. Because most of it doesn’t matter.
TK: I mean, we can read each other’s thoughts. I can finish her sentences, and she hasn’t even spoken. That’s what happens after 61 years, right? So that, I think, is what binds us together. I don’t know if it works for anybody else. About parenting … I’m waiting for my great-grandchildren to put it into practice. I’m hoping to put the smallest amount of influence into this younger generation, because I cannot say I was a good parent. I was very busy. I traveled. I worked very hard – excessively hard to the point where I was not around.
NK: That’s what kept us together!
TK: I was away maybe one or two weeks at a time, but Nancy heroically managed to raise the children as best she could. And I think they were brought up on fish fingers …
NK: … and cheese sandwiches.
MW: Like most children, I guess.
NK: Probably. When I was born, in 1939, women did not go into the kitchen.
TK: And why would they? So, Nancy thinks that cooking and cleaning are cities in China!
NK: Oh, Tommy.
MW: So that’s why you had to work so hard.
NK: Yes.
TK: I’m very domesticated because it’s a sign of respect. Now, I don’t know if it’s a bit odd, but we don’t have staff. We feel that it’s very healthy to do things yourself. We shop, we clean, we cook. We do the best we can. I think it keeps us very grounded. I feel also, having other people in the house is sometimes not very good.
MW: Right. You want your own space. Nancy doesn’t want the staff to hear her yelling at you, Tom.
NK: That’s right. You’re so right, Maggie.
TK: So, about parenting, I could say that I have nothing that I can teach anyone. One thing I can teach, what I’ve learned, is the greatest concept of all, which is unconditional love. It’s easy to explain but it’s very hard to put into practice. Because there are occasions when you’re really challenged in life, with what your children do, or do not do. Troubles they get into – and it can be something minor, and it can be something catastrophic. And to be able to express to them that you love them constantly, all the time – “I love you when you’re good. I love you when you’re bad. I love you when you lie. I love you when you did something completely …”
NK: You give them the chop when they do something like that!
MW: The chop?
NK: No inheritance!
TK: Well, we haven’t done anything like that, but we like to say it. It’s a perennial hope that your children will turn out well. I’m very driven myself.
MW: So, do you feel like you expect a lot from your children because you expect a lot from yourself?
TK: I think I’ve learned to expect nothing. Because if you expect nothing, then you cannot be disappointed. If you expect a lot then you put too much burden on them. Instead, having no expectations is because they can’t disappoint you. Of course, you hope that your children will lead productive lives. And by productive I don’t mean making money. Productive meaning something that brings them joy and satisfaction and if they can earn a living, great.
NK: I think they’re having a great time driving their cars, going to the beach, not working … getting up when they like. I can’t think of anything better! Tommy thinks you have to get up, be at work early in the morning.
MW: So, Tom is a workaholic and you, Nancy, are not.
NK: No. I wasn’t brought up to work.
MW: You really are “opposites attract.”
TK: There is this unbelievable care and love that I feel for my wife, for Nancy, and I know she feels for me. So even when I goof off or do something mean …
MW: She’s not going anywhere. She’s not going to give you the chop.
JD: I feel like she’s given him the chop before.
TK: She’s so completely kind and loving and caring … it could be midnight and she realizes that I have forgotten something. She will get out of bed to go and get it – which I must stop her. It would never occur to her to say, “Well, you go and get it.”
MW: I think that’s a female thing.
TK: Well, no.
NK: Yes, it is.
MW: I think it is. Women are very caregiving – it’s “I want to solve your problem.”
NK: (to Jevon) Are you married?
JD: I was for almost 20 years.
TK: OK, well, we’ll interview you later.
JD: Everything you’re saying is … kind of my philosophy on … it’s just … I can only control myself, and I just try to do like you, if I want people to work hard, I don’t say, “Hey, work hard!” I just do it and hope one day they turn into me. But they’re probably not going to. Maybe one will, maybe one won’t. I don’t know.
TK: So, the secret of being happily married is to have the great fortune of finding the right person. We could not have been more different. Religion-wise. Background-wise. Social class-wise. Everything-wise. How her parents allowed me to marry her, I will never understand. Because if I had been an alien with blue ears and one eye in my forehead, coming from some galactic distance, I couldn’t have been more unsuitable, because they had a vision of a husband for her. Coming from the South, it would be the son of their bridge partner or country club friend. And here I am, from a different continent, different religion, different everything.
MW: You were raised in the South, Nancy?
NK: Yes, in North Carolina. Until I met Tommy. He’s from Romania. We met in Saint Thomas.
TK: I could not have been less acceptable. They were hoping for some normal person who lived on their street to marry their wonderful daughter. Instead, I came along and they gave us gave permission, for which I asked … but we would have gotten married anyway.
MW: Well, that’s why they gave it.
NK: We were married by my first cousin, and Tommy thought, “Well, that doesn’t count. We certainly aren’t really married.”
TK: I was given an ultimatum. Nancy said to either marry her or else there are 10 other guys who want to marry her. So, when I went to ask her father, I blurted out something about how much I loved her and that I was hoping that he would consent to us getting married and I don’t know what else I said. I was incredibly nervous and I was shaking.
NK: He said, “Why don’t you see me in my office tomorrow?”
TK: Which I did. But the point is that I then added – and I don’t know where I got the courage because I was 21 – “and, by the way, we hope to get your blessing but if you don’t give it, we’ll still get married.”
JD: Right, I know that sentiment right there.
TK: And you know, he never said a word. When he went up to the bedroom I figured, “Well I blew it and I’ll be kicked out maybe in the middle of the night.” All he said to his wife, Vivian, was, “That boy has spunk.” I was just learning English and I didn’t even know what that word meant, but I figured it was not a very good thing.
MW: Well, yeah. That’s what a dad wants for his daughter.
TK: The fact that he died six months later …
NK: It was two years later.
TK: It felt like six months. I think it has to do with the enormity of us being married. It finally dawned on him that we were 12,000 miles away – and that probably saved our marriage.
NK: It sure did. Because if we got into a fight, there was no way to go home. There was no boat. There was no plane.
MW: You had to figure it out.
NK: We lived in Cambodia.
MW: Cambodia?!
TK: And I can’t say what I did there, because …
JD: Then you’d have to kill us both.
TK: I’ll have to agree with you on that.
NK: I don’t know what he’s talking about.
TK: To summarize, I would say, be lucky and find someone wonderful. And by wonderful, I don’t mean the prettiest, which she was and is. I don’t mean having lot of degrees, or being from a wonderful family or being rich, all of which she was and is. I mean somebody with a good heart.
NK: What degrees? I have a degree in teaching kindergarten.
MW: So, he knew you were going to be a good mother!
TK: It’s not the obvious material things that you would hope to find in a wife. Pretty good family, maybe have some money, well-educated, good friends. That’s what everybody wants, ideally. But none of that is as important as having a good heart, to be a good person. That is the greatest value that I expect from my children and grandchildren. That is what I try to live by. That is my ethos. To be a good person. To be generous – particularly when nobody knows it. Anonymously. There is a word in Yiddish but it’s a German word – to be a mensch. To be a man.
MW: Does it mean teacher?
TK: “Mensch” means being somebody who always knows the right thing to do. Who has a strong moral compass, who is generous and does it anonymously – who will never take advantage of other people who are under him or, well, beholden to him.
MW: Do you have a faith? Is that where you get your moral compass?
TK: I believe in a higher power and that’s what guides me.
NK: We don’t go to church, but we have some very religious children and grandchildren.
TK: I believe in the higher power. It’s something easier to believe in than some abstract organized religion. The higher power could be a friend. The higher power could be …
NK: Tommy, people go to church because it’s like going to a club.
MW: (laughs) Well, and sometimes for businesspeople. People will join churches for business and networking.
TK: It’s amazing how a higher power works. During the dark times, when you are in a situation where somebody’s really in desperate need, emotionally or some other way, and you can share an experience that helps them, you are their higher power. You should not give advice, but you can share experiences. Advice is very dangerous, because what may have worked for you could cause somebody else to commit suicide. If you can share something that resonates with them and helps them, then I’m their higher power at that moment. There have been endless situations where I heard something somebody else said that helped me.
MW: Sure, yes.
TK: So, beyond that I can’t really say anything else other than I’m blessed. Really blessed. I never really use that word – that’s the first time I’ve used it, but I feel very blessed to be happily married. Notwithstanding all the arguments we had over 61 years. We can’t agree on anything. Where are we going to eat tonight? Are we going to go for a walk? It doesn’t matter what it is – we can’t agree, but eventually we do something together, right?
Actually, there is one thing on which we agreed very early in our relationship, which is how we divide our tasks and responsibilities. I am responsible for the “major” things, like macroeconomics, foreign policy, interest rates and who to vote for. … Nancy is responsible for the “small” stuff, which is really the most important: where we live, the number of children, their education, friends and everyday matters. Nancy’s genius is to make me feel that I am in charge.
