• Sun. Mar 22nd, 2026
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    Couple who tied the knot 80 years ago shares their sweet recipe for a long marriage

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    2 minutes, 23 seconds Read

    In the quaint town of Fayette, Ohio, Roger and Beverly Kunkle’s bond is unbreakable.

    Their laughter and playful banter are a show of their love – which has lasted for many, many years.


    SOURCE:YOUTUBE – WTOL 11

    Eight decades of marriage, and their connection remains as strong as ever.

    Just recently, the couple had the most beautiful celebration.
    It was a day filled with joy, laughter, and memories as dozens of family members and friends gathered to honor Roger and Beverly’s 80-year-long journey together.

    In an interview with WTOL 11, Roger shared:

    “I look at other people when they die and their mates go on for a while, and we’ve just been together all this time.”


    SOURCE:YOUTUBE – WTOL 11

    Their love story began in Fulton County.
    As high school sweethearts, they walked the halls of Fayette High School, graduating in May 1943.

    Just a few months later, they embarked on their lifelong journey together as a married couple.

    Even their children are proud and amazed at their parents’ long-lasting relationship.
    Their eldest daughter, Jane Moore, expressed her gratitude, saying,

    “I’m just very blessed – we all are – to still have both of our parents, let alone have them celebrate this 80th with all of our friends and family.”

    Today, both Roger and Beverly are 98, their lives filled with rich experiences.
    Roger spent his years working the land as a farmer, while Beverly nurtured their growing family.

    Their legacy? Four children, 10 grandchildren, 20 great-grandchildren, and a whopping nine great-great-grandchildren.


    SOURCE:YOUTUBE – WTOL 11

    Their incredible milestone deserved a fun party.
    The celebration, held at a park in Wauseon, was attended by many from their large family.

    So, what’s life like for the Kunkles?

    Even after all these years, Beverly continues to whip up breakfast for Roger every morning.

    They enjoy a delicious meal of eggs and toast, which Beverly makes while sitting on a stool.

    As we know, sometimes it’s the little moments in a day with a partner that are the most special!

    But cooking isn’t where their teamwork ends.
    Even after 80 years, they share household chores.

    Beverly told WTOL 11,

    “I run the washing machine and he helps hang the clothes up, and he does some of the dishes.”

    She playfully added,

    “That’s what he did to the cups. He ran them in the dishwasher and melted the plastic.”


    SOURCE:YOUTUBE – WTOL 11

    So, what’s the magic formula for an enduring marriage?
    Beverly’s answer is simple yet profound, “You have ups and downs and you stick it out.”

    And having a supportive family is the cherry on top.

    Celebrating 80 years of marriage is quite an amazing life accomplishment.
    Interestingly, the longest marriage recorded is 86 years and 290 days, according to Guinness World Records.

    So, the Kunkles aren’t too far behind!

    Wishing them many more beautiful anniversaries while they celebrate their milestone.

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I’ll never forget the sick feeling in my belly when I looked through those photos for the first time and realized she’d ruined every single one she was in. Then came the pregnancy announcement. We had carefully planned a special moment to share our news. Daniel and I had picked out beautiful cards and chosen a quaint restaurant for an intimate family dinner. But Patricia beat us to the punch. On the day of the dinner, I got a Facebook notification. She’d posted OUR pregnancy announcement and tagged the whole family in it. I was devastated. Not only had she flushed all our careful planning down the toilet, but she’d also robbed us of the moment in which we all would’ve celebrated the news together. “I was just so excited,” she would say later, her version of an apology never quite reaching the level of actual remorse. And the baby names? Oh, that was another spectacular display of boundary crossing. Daniel and I had been discussing baby names since the day we found out I was pregnant. After months of deliberation, we had narrowed it down to two names: Ezra for a boy, and Quinn for a girl. We wanted to keep the names private until after the gender reveal, a little piece of magic just for us. But Patricia shared them with her entire bridge group faster than you could say “oversharing.” Let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like running into one of your MIL’s friends at the grocery store and getting a disappointed lecture about your “eccentric” baby name choices. When I confronted Patricia, she laughed it off. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you wanted to keep it secret and everyone was asking!” she said. “And don’t mind Margaret. She meant well. Your name choices are a little unusual.” So when we decided to have a gender reveal party, I was beyond cautious. I had a checklist of every detail I’d need to control to make it Patricia-proof. It had to be small, too, so I could do all the planning and much of the work myself. I sighed as I lay in bed one night, thinking about everything that could go wrong. “It would be easier to just not invite her,” I remarked to Daniel. “She means well,” Daniel said, his hand finding mine, our fingers intertwining. “Let’s give her a chance. She won’t ruin something as sweet and simple as a cake-cutting.” My husband. Always the optimist. Always believing the best in people, even when those people have a documented history of spectacular, breathtaking sabotage. The backyard that afternoon was a masterpiece of carefully curated celebration. Soft June sunlight filtered through the maple trees, casting dappled shadows on the perfectly arranged table. Pink and blue treats lined the edges. I had macarons with delicate color gradients, cupcakes topped with tiny gender-neutral question mark picks, and sparkling beverages in coordinating colors. And in the center: the cake. A towering white confection that seemed to hold all of our hopes and anticipation. 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I couldn’t bear it. I knew I had to cut that cake before she could find a way to ruin the moment. “Well, let’s get to the main event,” I announced, putting a hand on Patricia’s arm and guiding her a safe distance away. “Everyone, gather round!” Everyone gathered around, phones ready to record the special moment we’d been waiting for. Daniel and I moved into position, knife at the ready. We posed so Jenny could take some photos, and that’s when Patricia struck. “Oh no, let me just move the cake closer to you,” she said. I watched in horror as she gripped the base of the cake. With one flick of her wrist, the cake tipped. Frosting and pink layers splattered across the perfectly manicured grass like some horrific pastry crime scene. The yard went silent. I stood frozen, blinking back tears. This was supposed to be our moment. One simple, perfect memory untouched by her constant need to be the center of attention. Patricia stood with her hands over her mouth, barely covering her satisfied smirk. Then Jenny started laughing. Not a nervous laugh or a forced chuckle, but a full, genuine laugh of pure delight. I stared at her as the tears flowed freely down my face. Had Jenny been in on this? (continue reading in the 1st comment)

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