He says he vividly recalls their first kiss, about 80 years ago.
They were students at Concord High School, walking home at night after a weekend party. The United States, fighting a two-front war in a global conflict, would soon emerge as a confident, more mature country after World War II, and it was then, in the mid-1940s, that Robert and Jeanette O’Connell turned a page and began their own journey to adulthood, moving from friendship to the next level.
Robert, known as Conky, kissed Jeanette, nicknamed Ippy, for the first time that night. A goodnight kiss that resonates with him today.
“She really held on,” Conky said last week. “It was a long kiss.”
“Oh?” responded Ippy. “I don’t remember that.”
Their nicknames are special to them and their playful punching and counter-punching remain a staple of their relationship. Both 94, they’ve celebrated their 75th wedding anniversary – part of the rare Diamond collection – on April 17. Robert said it didn’t take long to realize that Jeanette was the one.
“My first impression was that I loved her right off,” Robert said. “I knew right after that first kiss.”
He’s bouncy and shaves his head. Her mobility is limited, but she’s thoughtful and sharp. It’s a Concord love story. They both attended Concord High School and have lived here all or most of their lives. She was a crossing guard at Dewey School for 20 years. He was a big high school sports star – halfback on the football team, shortstop on the baseball team.
Their nicknames have stuck since their school days, sounding like an HBO special or some comedy act in Vegas.
Conky and Ippy.
Each had an ever-present family story behind their nickname. Jeanette loved a character in a book named Ippsy Doodle, which soon morphed into Ippy. That became her name.
Meanwhile, Robert remembers taking a mighty swing during a pick-up softball game in front of Walker School. He lost his grip on the bat and sent it hurtling toward “My old buddy,” Paul Phillips,” who created the nickname after his buddy’s bat had conked him on the head.
“Finally,” Conky said, “even the teachers were calling me Conky by the time I got to junior high.”
Ippy watched Conky play baseball at White Park, near his home on Gladstone Street, in the days when 1,500 to 2,000 fans might show up to watch a game, their heels dug into the ground to keep them steady on the hill.
They spent time at Newfound Lake and Lake Ossipee, went to the movies, went camping. They were married by age 20. Conky worked at Rumford Press for 26 years and later worked in construction. Ippy worked for the state and was the librarian at Walker School. She also raised three children.
Not all has been rosy. A tragic death in the family 25 years ago rocked their world and was slow to heal, but, as Conky said, “We managed through the tough times. We don’t see eye to eye on everything, but I realized that I would not want to lose her.”
Asked about her secret to a long life and a long marriage, Ippy said, “Day by day, or week by week.”
As for Conky, he was eager to reminisce. About sports, friends, life and love. He still thinks about that first kiss with Ippy.
“I kissed her and then flew right up the street,” Conky said. “No walking.
“Flying.”