{"id":40830,"date":"2024-02-29T00:01:17","date_gmt":"2024-02-29T08:01:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/barbarafalconernewhall.com\/?p=40830"},"modified":"2026-06-05T12:35:19","modified_gmt":"2026-06-05T12:35:19","slug":"a-leap-year-leap-she-asked-he-said-yes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/a-leap-year-leap-she-asked-he-said-yes\/","title":{"rendered":"A Leap Year Leap: She Asked. He Said Yes."},"content":{"rendered":"
\"A<\/a>
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)<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

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.\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n

Jon and I had been dating for several years back in 1976. No marriage proposal was coming my way.\u00a0 So when February 29<\/em>\u00a0<\/em>arrived that year, <\/em>I took the leap year leap. <\/em>I asked<\/a>. He said yes.<\/em><\/p>\n

I like telling this story. <\/em>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 <\/em>the Oakland Tribune.<\/em><\/p>\n

By Barbara Falconer Newhall, <\/em>The Oakland Tribune, May 31, 1987<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Things were getting serious. My boyfriend had moved his goldfish into my apartment.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>
When Jon moved his goldfish into my apartment, I knew things were getting serious. Photo by Barbara Falconer (Newhall)<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

He was sheepish about having done this; he knew that I would object.<\/p>\n

I had my reasons. Jon and I had had a perfectly viable relationship\u00a0up until then. We had fair fights. We shared the housework. We divided expenses – restaurant tabs and grocery bills – right down the middle.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

I should have seen the goldfish coming.<\/p>\n

Commitment Creep<\/strong><\/h5>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\"She<\/a>
Jon shared in the housework when he spent time at my apartment. Photo by Barbara Falconer (Newhall)<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

Migrating Goldfish<\/strong><\/h5>\n

For me, the trouble with letting the goldfish into my apartment was that I believed in marriage.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

I made broad hints to that effect; Jon pretended not to hear.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

Our relationship went along nicely, growing more viable by the day.<\/p>\n

Financial Tangles<\/strong><\/h5>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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?<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

Armed with that knowledge, I was ready to take action.<\/p>\n

A Leap Year Leap. She Asked. He said yes.<\/strong><\/h5>\n

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.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>
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)<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I threatened to end our relationship. He knew better.<\/p>\n

New Year’s Eve came and went. I granted Jon an extension. I would hold out until Feb. 29, Leap Year Day.<\/p>\n

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?”<\/p>\n

“I think it would be charming,” he said.<\/p>\n

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

“Yes.”<\/p>\n

Jon moved the rubber tree plant in and gave his landlord notice.<\/p>\n

Let’s Elope<\/strong><\/h5>\n

We spent the next months debating wedding plans. Jon wanted to elope.\u00a0I wanted a church wedding. I wanted to be married in full view of my family, Jon’s family, our friends, and God himself.<\/p>\n

Jon said he would be embarrassed by all that attention.<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

Finally, he said gently, “You plan it the way you want it. I’ll be there.” He was.<\/p>\n

\u00a9 1987 The\u00a0Oakland Tribun<\/a><\/em>e<\/a>. Used by permission.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>
By 1976, Jon had moved many of his belongings into my apartment, including his goldfish and his bathrobe. Photo by Barbara Falconer (Newhall)<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\"jon-newhall-1976\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Widowed: Jon and I had been dating for several years. No marriage proposal was coming my way. But a Leap Day was. Read more.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":48824,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[30,14],"tags":[34,2831,29,2832,1630,689,1631,82,2833,2419],"class_list":["post-40830","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-my-changing-family","category-widowed","tag-dont-miss","tag-getting-engaged","tag-jon","tag-leap-day","tag-leap-year","tag-marriage","tag-marriage-proposal","tag-on-the-funny-side","tag-romance","tag-widowed"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40830","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=40830"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40830\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":48830,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40830\/revisions\/48830"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/48824"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=40830"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=40830"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=40830"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}