The surprising (and sweet) truth about love in late life

When Gretchen Messenger and David Wick speak around the Twin Cities, they offer helpful information to family caregivers on the many challenges of aging, tackling protocols to minimize abuse, housing options and estate planning.

But the co-founders of the Twin Cities nonprofit Who's Watching Mom? don't stop there. One of their seminars is proving particularly popular with the elderly and their boomer children: It's called "Romance and Aging."

Wick, an elder law attorney for nearly four decades, and Messenger, a seasoned long-term-care insurance specialist, know that aging can, and often does, bring surprising delights — even if the kids don't want to think about it.

"Senior romance is not an oxymoron," Messenger said.

As people live longer and divorce rates grow among those in their 50s, 60s and 70s, adult children of single parents are finding themselves adding another chair to the dinner table, and preparing the safe-sex talk they once delivered to their teens.

While Messenger and Wick wisely speak about "red flags," such as internet safety and STDs, they also emphasize that late life love, including sexual intimacy, can be life-affirming and life-extending.

"Some seniors," Messenger said, "feel their love lives are better than ever."

Karl Pillemer, a gerontologist at Cornell University and author of "30 Lessons for Loving: Advice From the Wisest Americans," is "pleasantly surprised" how important intimacy still is for older couples.

"The concept of sexless older years," he said, "is really is a myth." Older people lucky enough to have a long-term partner, or to find a new one, continue to have sex, and describe it as important and enjoyable.

Pillemer added, "They feel less pressured, and a wider range of acts were perceived as intimate, such as touching and holding hands."

C. Suzanne Bates, co-founder of Twin Cities-based Aging but Dangerous, for women 50 and older, said that, as women age, sex "is one of the first topics women want to talk about," whether it's how to improve sex with long-term partners, or how to try new things as a single person.

"While that whole Puritan culture we live with keeps us from talking about it, we do know older people who have wonderful relationships," Bates said.

"They still rub each other's backs and have some real intimate moments together," Bates said.

Connie Goldman of Hudson, Wis., said she laughed when a "young friend" said that "old people don't do that anymore."

Goldman knows better. She's the author of "Late-Life Love: Romance and New Relationships in Later Years."

"The motivation isn't that hot sexual urge," she said. "It's the need for caring about one person and being a special person to someone else.

"It's very important for us to have somebody who really cares."

Peitzman, who was divorced after 47 years, was remarried briefly before his second wife died of cancer. Miller was divorced after 24 years, then remarried for 20 years before her second husband died of a brain hemorrhage. When he died, she said, "I thought my life was over. But it wasn't."

At that brief church encounter, she gave Peitzman her e-mail address. He invited her to the Guthrie Theater. "You know how a 16-year-old stands in front of the mirror and worries, 'Is my makeup all right? Is my hair all right?' " said Miller, the mother of two grown sons. "We do that at 65, too."

While preparing a dinner for his four grown kids, she was a nervous wreck. "Instead of 'Meet the Parents,' it was 'Meet the Children,' " she said with a laugh. "Pretty scary."

The couple were married in 2012, and Miller confesses that her heart "still goes whoo!"

She said, "With first love, you don't have the experiences to draw on. Love at this age is every bit as wonderful, exciting, euphoric as it is when you're 16, and maybe even more. Because at 65 or 70, it goes to your core. Sometimes in the middle of the night, we'll reach out and hold hands."

Linda Hovan's heart still goes "whoo," too, which delights many caregivers at the center where her husband, Skip Hovan, lives. Both divorced, they met on a blind date and married on their shared birthday, Aug. 26, in 1982.

Eight years ago, "the nicest man" she'd ever met was diagnosed with Lewy body dementia, a progressive disorder.

Linda visits Skip every day at 4 p.m. and feeds him dinner. When she leaves around 9 p.m., she takes his clothes home to wash, "so I can touch them."

Skip, 72, no longer walks or speaks, but anyone who doubts that romantic love can bust through such formidable barriers need only observe the two of them together. Linda, 71, offers Skip sips of water, caresses his arm, talks gently to him up close.

"I love to touch his hands," she said. "His hands always felt like magic to me."

"While the physical part went away when Skip got so sick, the depth of love just got stronger," Linda said.

She still puts on John Denver music, their favorite, takes Skip's hands and pretends they're dancing. "One of our friends said, 'You guys are so romantic,' " Linda said.

"I said, 'What do you mean?' It was just us being us."

gail.rosenblum@startribune.com 612-673-7350 • Twitter: @grosenblum