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A Kiss and a Proposal — All on Their First Date

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A Kiss and a Proposal — All on Their First Date

Dr. John Henry Cook III hadn’t meant to appear bare-chested on Sylvia Rosemarie Auton’s iPhone when he called her for a chat last July. It was 7:45 a.m., and Cook, who was home alone with his dog in Leesburg, Va., was having trouble facing the day.

“I was lying in the bed my wife had died in,” he said. “I was feeling busted by sorrow, and I just wanted to talk to Sylvia.” An accidental push of the FaceTime button sent more than his voice through the ether.

Auton, who was visiting her daughter at the time in Phoenix, Md., was taken aback.

“He said, ‘Good morning, Love,’” she recalled. “I was stunned.” She was equally stunned a day later when, hours after their first kiss, he proposed.

Auton, 85, and Cook, 90, first met in May 2011, when Auton and her late husband, Forrest Hanvey, became patients at Cook’s concierge medical practice in Leesburg. Hanvey, who died in 2024, had known Cook since the 1950s, when both were midshipmen at the U.S. Naval Academy. A friendly relationship between the former classmates soon extended to their wives, Auton and Agnes diZerega Cook, whom friends knew as Di.

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Both couples would routinely see each other at U.S.N.A. alumni events, and after Cook retired from medicine in 2017, they met up occasionally for group lunches with Navy friends.

“I got to know Di, who was a wonderful watercolor artist and wonderful person,” Auton said. When Di died in April 2025 of cardiac arrest, the friendship between the two surviving spouses deepened.

Auton is an author and educator. Before she moved to Fairfax, Va., in 1969 with her first husband, a nuclear physicist named David Auton, she lived in Chicago, where she grew up. Her bachelor’s degree in mathematics and master’s in mathematics education are from the University of Chicago. Her doctorate in mathematics education and statistics is from the University of Maryland.

Auton and David, who died of a cerebral hemorrhage in 2003, raised a daughter, Alyson Russo, now an anesthesiologist at the Johns Hopkins Hospital and the mother of Auton’s two grandsons, ages 6 and 2. The Autons also had a son, Timothy Lee, who died in 2014.

Auton taught in Chicago classrooms before she was promoted to her first position in educational leadership in the late 1970s. In 2005, she retired as director of staff development for Fairfax County Public Schools.

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Auton now teaches personal finance classes at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute, part of George Mason University. She also advises women on beginner stock market and investment strategies.

Her advice extends to navigating romance and relationships, too. “The Last Embrace: Caregiving for a Beloved Spouse,” a self-published 2025 book, was written after she spent a protracted period caring for Hanvey, who died after a fall at home in Fairfax Station. “The Wondrous Embrace: Finding Love in the Sunset Years,” also self-published in 2025, is meant to inspire hope among older people who may be souring on the chances of finding love.

Auton met Hanvey when she was well into her 60s and he was 70 in January 2005. They married the same year, in September. “One thing I do not want is for anyone to feel discouraged,” when it comes to love or otherwise, she said.

Before Cook earned his medical degree from Yale, he was a Polaris submarine commander in the U.S. Navy. During the Cold War, he served in nuclear submarines. He married Di in 1957, the day after he graduated from the Naval Academy.

Military service had been a Cook family legacy. His father was a Marine first lieutenant; he was born at Marine Corps Base Quantico in Virginia. With Di, he had a daughter, Elizabeth, and two sons, John and Harrison. His five grandchildren range in age from 24 to 30.

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When Hanvey was declining in 2024, Auton wasn’t always certain she understood his needs. In those moments, she would ask Hanvey if he wanted to talk with someone else. “Invariably, it would be, ‘I want to talk with Jack,’” she said. Cook picked up the phone every time.

On May 17, 2025, Cook held a memorial for Di at St. James’ Episcopal Church in Leesburg, where they had married almost 70 years earlier. Soon after she died, Auton sent the family a condolence card and tucked a printout of the 1934 poem “Immortality,” by Clare Harner, inside. “I thought it might comfort Jack,” she said.

At the memorial, he told her how much he liked it. But Auton knew his grief was of a depth poetry could do little to assuage. “I saw the pain he was in,” she said.

Less than two weeks later, she was surprised when he texted her a handwritten poem. “He had taken the original poem I sent him and created a poem as if Di were reading it to him,” she said. “I was so taken with that I sent a poem back to him as though Forrest were writing to me.” Both poems touched on how they shouldn’t feel alone, how their spouses’ spirits wouldn’t leave them.

Auton was planning a June 2025 celebration of life for Hanvey at the time. “Jack had done such a wonderful job with Di’s, I asked him if he would come over and look at my ideas,” she said. Over lunch, the effects of his loss were as apparent as they had been at the memorial for Di.

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“He was still zombielike with grief,” she said. Compassion and a sense of hopefulness about helping him through his pain led to a shift toward tender new feelings.

On June 29, as Cook was leaving the celebration of life for Hanvey, he bent down to hug her and whispered “I love you” in her ear. “What was astonishing is that, without a moment of hesitation, I responded ‘I love you, too,’” she said.

The next morning, he sent her a text message: “Bravo Zulu,” a Navy term for “well done.” She asked herself if his declaration of love at the service meant little more than appreciation for the celebration honoring his friend.

They didn’t speak again until July 11, when Auton was preparing to get in the shower at her daughter’s house and Cook was shirtless and in bed. Auton checked that only her face was visible when she answered the early morning call. They hung up with a plan to meet for lunch the next day, at Auton’s house in Fairfax Station.

“At 1 o’clock, there he was, holding a mini orchid plant” as a gift, she said. “He stepped into the foyer, stepped into my arms and gave me a long, deep kiss.” Two hours later, on a deck overlooking a lake on the property, he proposed.

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At the memorial for Hanvey, Cook’s feelings for Auton had taken him by surprise. “When you’ve been in a long-term, loving marriage, you always have your feelers out” for your spouse, he said. When the spouse dies, “those feelers that had been intertwined wither away.” For Cook, maintaining hope that they would one day regenerate and intertwine with someone else had been a challenge.

But “the moment I kissed her, it’s almost like I put the key in the lock,” he said. “My life started again.”

On May 9, Cook and Auton married at St. James’ Episcopal Church. Rev. Chad Martin officiated a traditional Christian ceremony for 90 guests.

Auton wore a dusty rose ankle-length dress from her closet — the same dress she had worn to marry Hanvey. “It brought back loving memories,” she said. Cook wore a dark gray suit with a multicolored tie and his trademark red socks. Both had entered the church from a side door, then sat in chairs arranged in front of the altar, standing only to say their vows.

“At our age, stability is an issue,” Auton said. “I wobble well, but I didn’t want to wobble up a long aisle.”

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After a kiss to mark the start of their married life and a careful recess to the church parish for a buffet lunch, they reflected on the resilience of the heart.

“Even if the days ahead are few, both of us would like others to have hope for the future,” Auton said. Since he and Auton fell in love, Cook said, “life has been delightful.”

“Beauty and music surround us all,” he added. “If you listen for it, you’ll hear it. If you don’t, you’ll miss it.”


When May 9, 2026

Where St. James’ Episcopal Church, Leesburg, Va.

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Church Finest The reception in the church parish was catered by Tuscarora Mill, a local restaurant whose owner Cook has known for years. On the menu were prime rib and roast chicken. The lively spring décor, including bright florals, pink napkins and white tablecloths, had been set up by the church sexton and came as a surprise to Auton. “People came up to us to say they had never seen the church look so lovely,” she said.

A Past Worth Preserving Cook will move into Auton’s home in Fairfax Station. He recently sold the 16-acre Leesburg farm he and Di lived on for over 40 years, known as Historic Rock Spring, to the City of Leesburg, to be used as a park. “It was important to Di that the land be preserved,” he said.

Accidental Vintage Auton’s wedding dress was at least 21 years old, she estimated, and Cook’s suit was more than 30. “We were not in today’s fashions by any means,” she said, unapologetically.

Gratitude The day after the wedding, Auton and Cook sent thank-you emails and texts to each of their guests. “At 85 and 90, we wake up each day with a sense of profound thanks-giving: for you, for our health and for the joy of hoping to continue to be of value in this world,” they wrote. They signed their first correspondence as husband and wife with, “Many thanks from two wrinkly, creaky, wobbly but very grateful people.”

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A judge says the Kennedy Center must update him on its plans — and address that tarp

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A judge says the Kennedy Center must update him on its plans — and address that tarp

A tarp covers the facade of the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C., on June 13. A federal judge has asked the arts complex’s leadership to explain the purpose of the tarp and the surrounding scaffolding.

Alex Wroblewski/AFP via Getty Images


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Alex Wroblewski/AFP via Getty Images

On Wednesday, the federal judge overseeing the Kennedy Center lawsuit ordered the center to give him a status report on the center’s operation and programming within the next few weeks. Judge Christopher R. Cooper also said that the Kennedy Center must explain the purpose and status of the tarp and scaffolding that have been placed over the front of the arts complex, where until recently both President Trump and President John F. Kennedy’s names were both displayed.

In a directive issued last Tuesday, Judge Cooper had given Kennedy Center administrators three days to update him on the arts complex’s immediate plans regarding construction, programming and public access. Trump, who now serves as the center’s chairman, had announced July 5 as the date the venue would close for major renovations.

Last Friday, on Cooper’s due date, lawyers for the Kennedy Center filed a request asking for an extension. In that filing, Matt Floca, who was promoted as the center’s president and CEO in March, said that the Kennedy Center’s current management intends to present its board with “an array of options” for trustees to vote on at their next meeting on an unspecified date in mid-July.

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According to Floca, the options are a complete closure for extensive renovations; a partial closure “enabling some continued public access and limited programming” while some renovations are undertaken; and “a highly limited series of phased closures to address only the center’s most serious infrastructure needs while scheduling and maintaining a full slate of programming.”

In his newest order, Cooper denied Floca’s request for an extension. And he mandated that the center file a status report within seven days of the center’s July board meeting or by July 31, whichever date is earliest. He also ruled that the report must “indicate the purpose for and status of the tarp and scaffolding,” which were erected by workers over the center’s front signage in the early morning hours of June 13.

When asked for comment Wednesday, the Kennedy Center pointed back to the documents its legal team submitted to the court.

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4 ways to design a dreamy summer, according to a happiness expert

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4 ways to design a dreamy summer, according to a happiness expert

Denis Novikov/Getty Images

I tend to romanticize summer. The movies and TV shows I grew up with made me think that the season was about adventure and big-time transformation.

I imagined myself building a tight-knit friend group and getting out of a pickle together, like in The Sandlot or Camp Nowhere. Or traveling across the world, say, to Greece, like Lena Kaligaris, a character in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, having a whirlwind summer romance and returning an entirely different person.

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I’ve never actually had a summer like that.

Even when your expectations are more modest than mine, “so often, the summer just flies by, and we haven’t taken the picnics or gone for the day trip or whatever it was that we thought we were gonna do,” says happiness expert Gretchen Rubin.

Rubin, author of The Happiness Project and host of the podcast Happier With Gretchen Rubin, has been sharing ideas on social media about how to make the season more memorable and satisfying.

She walks through four exercises to help you get what you want — and more — out of the season. Print out our worksheet here, fill it out and stick it on your fridge to keep you accountable. Or take a screenshot and post it to Instagram (don’t forget to tag @NPRLifeKit!).

🍑 Give your summer a theme

Pick a single word or phrase that you want to embrace this season — something that captures the feeling you want to have over the next few months.

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“My theme for the summer is ‘ketchup,’” Rubin says. “It has a kind of a summer feeling, because you think of putting ketchup on your burger.”

“It’s a metaphor,” she says. It means to look for “whatever I could add [this season] to make something elevated and more fun.”

Meanwhile, my theme word this summer is “juice.” I no longer think that I need to travel far or completely transform to have a delicious summer. I just need to take advantage of the abundance that the season offers: ripe peaches and tomatoes, juicy softball pitches and the opportunity to feel juicy in my body when I wear a bathing suit.

My Dream Summer worksheet to print.

Print out our worksheet here, fill it out and stick it on your fridge to keep you accountable. Or take a screenshot and post it to Instagram (don’t forget to tag @NPRLifeKit!).

Malaka Gharib/NPR


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🪣 Create a summer bucket list

What do you want to do this summer? On my bucket list: ride the Ferris wheel at a summer fair, have more barbecues at my parents’ house and see the sunrise at least once.

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After the Eaton fire, ‘In the Gardens of Eaton’ finds unexpected beauty in loss

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After the Eaton fire, ‘In the Gardens of Eaton’ finds unexpected beauty in loss

Night is falling in Altadena as bats circle, peacocks wail and photographer Kevin Cooley tries to capture what’s left of a tree.

Using strobes and a long exposure time to allow the maximum amount of available light to hit his lens, Cooley snags about 50 shots of the 20-foot-tall tree, which stands vigil over a street where nearly all the homes burned. The tree’s limbs were lopped off in the wake of January 2025’s Eaton fire, which ravaged Altadena and part of Pasadena, but all these months after the fire, there’s new growth on the tree.

Photographer Kevin Cooley sets up a camera to take photos for his series.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

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Little tufts of green leaves have emerged from the raw cuts where the burned branches once were, proving the tree to be more resilient than its otherwise relatively stark exterior might suggest.

A fine art and news photographer for decades, Cooley, 51, is using pictures like the one he snapped of the tree as part of his new project, “In the Gardens of Eaton.” A collection of 6,000 photos and counting that Cooley has taken around Altadena on wild lots where homes once stood, “In the Gardens of Eaton” aims to capture bits of natural beauty that have endured despite the ravages of the fire and its aftermath.

Cooley has lived in Altadena since 2000 and he knew his neighbors well. He started working on the photo project several months after losing his home in the fire. He’d enlisted a group called Samaritan’s Purse to come up to his lot, where he’d found a metal flat file he’d used to store his photographic prints. Cooley was hopeful some had survived, but when the group popped it open, he says it quickly became clear that the burning metal had acted somewhat like an oven, burning almost everything inside to a charred crisp.

A ponytail palm on Athens Street at dusk.

A ponytail palm on Athens Street photographed for Kevin Cooley’s “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

(Kevin Cooley)

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One piece Cooley could identify, though, was a 2020 copy of Wired magazine for which he’d shot the cover. It featured a swirling plume of smoke, accompanying the story “The West’s Infernos Are Melting Our Sense of How Fire Works,” and the irony wasn’t lost on him.

“You could still kind of make out the word Wired across the top of the masthead and something about that just blew me away,” Cooley says. “It’s as if the whole thing had come full circle. I immediately wanted to photograph it in the same way I had originally photographed the smoke, which was in a studio with lighting, and I guess that made something click for me. I started feeling like there was a way to make something positive after the fire, and that’s when I started spending more time back in Altadena.”

Driving around town, looking at the lots and the wreckage, Cooley says he started to notice the bits of nature that were trying to persevere. He spotted a begonia poking through a burned fence on his neighbor’s property and snapped a photo, and soon he was accumulating more and more similar images. Cooley says if you’d told him before the fire he’d be taking so many pictures of flowers, he’d have scoffed, but now images like one he captured recently of a group of blooming roses in front of a cluster of dead vines remind him that perseverance is possible no matter the odds.

Photographer Kevin Cooley poses for a portrait in a gallery.

Cooley stands in front of some of his photos on display in a gallery in Culver City.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

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“It’s inspiring what nature is doing up there,” Cooley says. “We live in this environment where fire is very much part of the ecology, but people’s gardens are also pushing through. Nonnative species and native species are both there. And people are planting more wildflowers, and it feels cathartic. It’s making me excited to rebuild too, because I really can’t wait to get back.”

Letizia Ragusa, an Altadena resident who lost her home, says Cooley shot her flower-filled lot without her even knowing it. Before the fire, her yard was a wonderland of 16 fruit trees, a koi pond and both a vegetable and an herb garden. All of that was lost in the blaze. As a method of coping and of shoring up the land, Ragusa enlisted a Sierra Madre company called Hardy Californians to plant a remediation seed mix across her lot.

El Molino geraniums captured for Cooley's “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

El Molino geraniums captured for Cooley’s “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

(Kevin Cooley)

Seeing the native plants and flowers begin to pop up on her lot was important, Ragusa says. She’s been living in a rental with her family since the fire, and there’s no yard or room for a garden.

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“It’s just really comforting to me to have some sense of control when everything else feels so out of control right now,” Ragusa says. “At least I have this little piece of land that I can plant things on and I know it’s what’s going to happen. It’s very predictable, and I also think it makes other people happy. I see people driving and walking by that stop to look at it. And our neighbors have all commented on it too, so that’s nice.”

The pictures Cooley took on Ragusa’s property were of rows of pink and purple native flowers and sunflowers set amid city lights and a dreamy sunset. Ragusa says they’re surreal and beautiful.

“It’s outdoor photography, but with a studio element,” she says, noting that she’s especially open to Cooley’s process because she’s an artist herself, previously producing ceramics and sculpture from a home studio that she also lost.

Cooley works sets up lights for a recent photo shoot.

Cooley works sets up lights for a recent photo shoot.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

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While the initial photos Cooley took of her yard were from the street and her driveway, she’s since given him permission to go deeper into her lot. It’s something Cooley says is important to him because he knows firsthand that a lot of people’s lots are what he calls “hallowed ground.”

Most of the pictures Cooley has taken so far have been from a distance, though he has set up his equipment near the end of people’s driveways to get a good photo. As word of Cooley’s project has gotten around Altadena — with one resident posting a photo of him on their lot captured via trail cam to a local Facebook group, looking for more information — more and more people have expressed an openness to having him come shoot their gardens.

Honeysuckle on Via Maderas captured for “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

Honeysuckle on Via Maderas captured for “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

(Kevin Cooley)

Cooley has created a Google Form for interested residents to use and he keeps a spreadsheet of the responses in a clipboard on his car’s dashboard. When he’s at a loss for what to shoot next, he’ll glance at it, mentally mapping out addresses in his mind and looking at resident-submitted descriptions of their lots, which include phrases like “We don’t have much left, but we saved our banana plant” and “[Our house] made me into the gardener I am and I adorned her in plants.”

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Cooley says he intends to shoot photos for all the owners who have responded to his Google Form, hoping to gift them prints when the project is complete. Starting in July, he’s headed to Portugal for a six-month art fellowship, but says he plans to continue the photo project later. Cooley would also like to produce an art book of his favorite photos from the project.

He’s also aware that, in some respects, he’s up against a time limit in terms of what he can shoot. He says he spent the beginning part of the project “rushing against the Army Corps” as they were clearing lots, and now he’s trying to photograph rough-and-tumble lots full of nature before their owners level them and start to rebuild.

Calaveras Roses at nighttime.

Calaveras roses photographed for “In the Gardens of Eaton.”

(Kevin Cooley)

Sometimes, Cooley says, he had to shoot on lots where he hadn’t known the owner. When he started the project, he made an effort to track down who lived on the property before he set up his camera, but the process was surprisingly arduous and he’d often lose his intended shot as flowers or plants died or changed shape.

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“It wasn’t practical,” Cooley says. “It’s not that I didn’t want to, but I just couldn’t figure it out. I will eventually, though, and then I’ll be able to present people with a photograph when they’re back in their new homes.

“I just think Altadena is a special place,” he says on a spring day. “Six months ago, it was so depressing to come up here, but now it’s not. It’s still emotional, of course, but seeing all the rebuilding, it’s clear that people see value in being here, even now. When all this is done, if Altadena is even 50% or 75% as special as it was before, it’ll still be great.”

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