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Veteran journalist Barbara Falconer Newhall riffs on life as she knows it.

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A Leap Year Leap: She Asked. He Said Yes.

February 29, 2024 By Barbara Falconer Newhall 14 Comments

A Leap Year Leap: She Asked. He Said Yes. jon-newhall-1976
I took this photo of Jon in 1976, the year I took the leap year leap: I asked and he said yes. He’s standing in the kitchen of my apartment, a few feet from where he stood when I proposed marriage on Leap Year Day. Photo by Barbara Falconer (Newhall)

Today is February 29 — a Leap Year Day and the twelfth anniversary of the day my husband of forty-four years and I got engaged. 

Jon and I had been dating for several years back in 1976. No marriage proposal was coming my way.  So when February 29 arrived that year, I took the leap year leap. I asked. He said yes.

I like telling this story. I liked to tease Jon about it when he was alive, and I like retelling it now because it says so much about the person he was. I wrote this version in 1987 when I was a columnist for the Oakland Tribune.

By Barbara Falconer Newhall, The Oakland Tribune, May 31, 1987

Things were getting serious. My boyfriend had moved his goldfish into my apartment.

I returned from a long weekend with my parents to find that Jon had moved his dime store pets from his place on Telegraph Hill into mine on Russian Hill.

A Leap Year Leap: Jon-newhall's-goldfish
When Jon moved his goldfish into my apartment, I knew things were getting serious. Photo by Barbara Falconer (Newhall)

He was sheepish about having done this; he knew that I would object.

I had my reasons. Jon and I had had a perfectly viable relationship up until then. We had fair fights. We shared the housework. We divided expenses – restaurant tabs and grocery bills – right down the middle.

We liked each other’s friends. And, although Jon did not like Ingmar Bergman and I was not keen on baseball, we stayed calm about these differences and took turns picking out our weekend activities.

Above all, Jon and I were honest with each other. Right down to admitting it when one of us went out with someone else – something that Jon did often in the early days of our relationship, now in its fifth year.

I should have seen the goldfish coming.

Commitment Creep

Jon had begun eating more and more of his meals at my place, doing more and more of the dishes, showing more and more disappointment if I opted for supper with a female co-worker instead of him.

She Asked. He Said Yes. jon-newhall-empties-dishwasher
Jon shared in the housework when he spent time at my apartment. Photo by Barbara Falconer (Newhall)

He was spending less time than ever at his own apartment, going there only every other day to feed the goldfish and water his rubber tree plant.

But those short trips gave us both a firm sense of having our own lives, a fall-back position if something went wrong between us.

Migrating Goldfish

For me, the trouble with letting the goldfish into my apartment was that I believed in marriage.

As I saw it, if Jon wanted to enjoy the rights and pleasures of marriage (hanging a clean shirt in my closet, eating a cozy, home-cooked meal at my wobbly dinner table, acquired for a few dollars at Goodwill) without even the pretense of maintaining his own apartment, then he could darned well marry me.

I made broad hints to that effect; Jon pretended not to hear.

I allowed the goldfish to stay, but took a hard line where the rubber tree plant was concerned. Jon continued to stop off at his apartment once or twice a week to water it.

Our relationship went along nicely, growing more viable by the day.

Financial Tangles

Our finances soon became hopelessly entangled: I could no longer remember how much I had spent on groceries. Jon would forget to collect from me for my baseball ticket.

But every now and then, dreary feelings caught up with me. I wanted to be married, but did I want to marry Jon? If I strong-armed him into proposing marriage, would I say yes?

Finally, at the end of a drafty evening at Candlestick Park — I could have been home watching “War and Peace” on TV — I realized that I would go to that wretchedly cold game with Jon all over again. Furthermore, if I had my way, this was going to be my husband.

Armed with that knowledge, I was ready to take action.

A Leap Year Leap. She Asked. He said yes.

It was 1975. A leap year was coming up. If Jon did not propose to me by midnight, Dec. 31, I would propose to him.

It would be more romantic, of course, if he did the proposing. So, I left pictures of diamond rings lying around the apartment. I tried making deals, hinting that as soon as we got engaged, he could move his rubber tree plant in. To no avail.

A Leap Year Leap: She Asked. He Said Yes. jon-newhall's-rubber-tree-plant
Jon spent most of his time at my apartment, but he visited his own apartment a couple of times a week to water his rubber tree plant. Photo by Barbara Falconer (Newhall)

I threatened to end our relationship. He knew better.

New Year’s Eve came and went. I granted Jon an extension. I would hold out until Feb. 29, Leap Year Day.

On Feb. 28, I gave him one last warning. “How would you feel,” I asked, “going through life, married to someone who had proposed marriage to you?”

“I think it would be charming,” he said.

A sweet reply, one that appeased the romantic in me. The next morning, the 29th, I put my arms around Jon’s neck and whispered in his ear, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Jon moved the rubber tree plant in and gave his landlord notice.

Let’s Elope

We spent the next months debating wedding plans. Jon wanted to elope. I wanted a church wedding. I wanted to be married in full view of my family, Jon’s family, our friends, and God himself.

Jon said he would be embarrassed by all that attention.

The issues kept coming up. Would there be dancing? Two rings or one? Should the bride wear white? The details meant a lot to me, and little to Jon.

Finally, he said gently, “You plan it the way you want it. I’ll be there.” He was.

© 1987 The Oakland Tribune. Used by permission.

A Leap Year Leap: She Asked. He Said Yes. jon-newhall-feeds-goldfish
By 1976, Jon had moved many of his belongings into my apartment, including his goldfish and his bathrobe. Photo by Barbara Falconer (Newhall)

Filed Under: My Ever-Changing Family, Widowed

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Comments

  1. Sharie McNamee says

    March 5, 2024 at 9:19 am

    Oh, Barb, l. love this tale of you two, but also what it displays of you.

    Reply
    • Barbara Falconer Newhall says

      March 5, 2024 at 7:05 pm

      Thank you, Sharie!

      Reply
  2. Barbara Hudgens says

    March 3, 2024 at 3:50 pm

    Such a great story! Thanks,
    Barbara Hudgens

    Reply
    • Barbara Falconer Newhall says

      March 3, 2024 at 5:54 pm

      Yes. I love to tell this story. But I try to wait the four years between tellings.

      Reply
  3. Jocelyn says

    March 3, 2024 at 12:41 pm

    What a great story. Both of you taking a leap!

    Reply
    • Barbara Falconer Newhall says

      March 3, 2024 at 6:05 pm

      What a great way to think about it. Yes, it was a leap that we finally took — six years after we first met.

      Reply
  4. Sharon Metzler-Dow says

    March 3, 2024 at 8:14 am

    Still charming! Fabulous photos — very telling. Moves Valentine’s Day to February 29.

    Reply
    • Barbara Falconer Newhall says

      March 3, 2024 at 5:57 pm

      I love it — Valentine’s Day on the 29th! I wish I’d thought of that when Jon was alive.

      Reply
  5. Jean MacGillis says

    March 3, 2024 at 7:42 am

    Completely charming, Barb! Where does the time go?

    Reply
    • Barbara Falconer Newhall says

      March 3, 2024 at 5:59 pm

      Yep. Time is moving along faster and faster. I’m glad I have so many photos of Jon from way back when to help me keep track of how things were.

      Reply
  6. Blake Gilmote says

    February 29, 2024 at 12:48 pm

    Keep ’em comin’ Barbara.

    Reply
    • Barbara Falconer Newhall says

      March 1, 2024 at 11:14 am

      😉

      Reply
      • Sue says

        March 3, 2024 at 5:42 am

        💕

        Reply
        • Barbara Falconer Newhall says

          March 3, 2024 at 6:03 pm

          🙂

          Reply

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