Love is without age limits

CHANA THAU

In 1950, when Miryom Kushner was 15 years old and growing up in Winnipeg's North End, she belonged to Young Judea. So did Menachem Roytenburg, then 16. She had a crush on him. He also noticed "Cookie" (so called because that had been her first English word) but he never got around to asking her out because kids went in groups, not couples.

The roads taken

Fast forward a few years. Menachem, also known as Max, had become active in the Zionist movement and travelled a great deal in North America. Then he went to Israel for a year of leadership training. When he returned, he found that his best friend, Leslie, was dating Cookie.

Max went on to study agriculture at the University of Manitoba, while continuing to work in the Zionist movement as a leader. He was assigned to be program director at a Zionist camp in Ontario, where he fell in love with Lorraine, the arts and crafts director. They married at the end of camp that summer and returned to Winnipeg, where Max completed his first degree. As always, he asked about Cookie and found out that she, too, was married – to Leslie.

Miryom, always a giving and caring person, befriended Lorraine and made her feel welcome in Winnipeg. However, the Roytenburgs eventually moved to Toronto and, later, to Montreal.

Years passed. Miryom divorced and remarried twice. Her third husband died in 1994. Meanwhile, life was not easy. The '90s were especially unkind. Miryom lost her youngest son, Michael, to AIDS and, a few years later, her daughter, Kathy, to MS.

Max and Lorraine divorced after 21 years of marriage. He moved to Ottawa, where he met and married his second wife, Carole. They had a son and lived together happily for 28 years, until Carole's death from breast cancer in January 2005. "I'm the kind of guy who sticks to a gal once we get together," he joked.

Max had made periodic visits to Winnipeg, where he had a sister and other relatives; he always asked about Cookie. But, of his visit in October 2005 (at age 71), he said, "I don't know what brought me to Winnipeg. It's almost as if I wasn't telling myself what was going on in my head." He called Miryom and left a message on her answering machine. She arrived home from a trip to the Maritimes and found multiple messages on her machine. She decided to return only Max's call that evening "and then brush him off." Unaware that he was now a widower, she reluctantly let herself be persuaded to meet him for breakfast the next morning, where he told Miryom that he had lost his wife to breast cancer. After breakfast, he asked to see Miryom's paintings. Romance did not cross the mind of either until he entered her condo. As soon as they were there, Max, still in his overcoat, spun her around, took her in his arms and kissed her. Miryom said that, when she kissed him back, an unspoken dream came true.

The future begins

Max returned to Ottawa the next day, called Miryom often and sent her a ticket to come visit the following week. In Ottawa, she met all four of Max's children. His two sons lived there and his two daughters had come from California and Israel, respectively, to help him move from his house into a condo. Miryom smiled and blushed: "One of his daughters said to me, 'Has he asked you to marry him?' " When I said no, she went on to say, 'He will, you know.' " Sure enough, as he took Cookie to the airport, Max looked at her suitcase and said, "I don't like the name on your suitcase."

"Is that a proposal?" she countered. "Yes, I guess it is."

It was a whirlwind romance. For two months, the couple alternated between keeping house in Ottawa and Winnipeg. In December, on the day that they were leaving for Israel, they stopped at the Ottawa courthouse to book a date to get married. The clerk said there was an opening at 4 p.m. that very day. "So I called my son," said Max. The ceremony was attended by Max's son, daughter-in-law and two grandsons "in white shirts and ties." After that, his closest friend drove them to the airport.

In Israel, Max's Jerusalem daughter urged them to have a religious ceremony, so "we went shopping for a trousseau" and arrangements were made, he said. On Jan. 2, 2006, the couple were married on the Haas Promenade overlooking the Old City of Jerusalem, witnessed by some 50 family and friends.

"You never think that at this age you're going to find somebody," mused Miryom, with a huge smile. "You've got to be lucky," a grinning Max chimed in.

The year since their marriage has been filled with happy times. Miryom and Max "enjoy spending scads of time together" and travelling around the globe. They have made Ottawa their headquarters for now, with Winnipeg a close second.

"We don't know for sure what we're going to do," said Max. "We're living our wonderful story every day. There are a lot of places that we haven't seen together. It's enough to enjoy each other's company, but we want to see things and go places while we have the health and strength to enjoy them."

The secret of their success, he said, is that "you've got to be open. The instant I embraced Cookie, I knew that was it. The rest was just detail.

"Life is a mystery; our lives have changed on a dime. Perhaps this was our fate waiting to happen, the unseen hand from above. But it takes the courage to reach out and seize what you know is good, and risk disappointment or rejection. It is no discredit to our previous partners to admit that we have never been happier in our lives."

Chana Thau is a personal historian and freelance writer living in Winnipeg.

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