The first time Bernard Snyder remembers seeing Jo Cartwright was at a chicken restaurant.
She had a big piece of chicken in front of her.
“She’s sitting there and she's looking at this chicken. And she looks so helpless. I mean, it was just hilarious,” Bernard said.
It was funny, but he was smitten. “I had to find out who she was," he said.
Bernard lives at Westminster, a retirement home near Bull Creek Road in Austin. He moved there with his wife in 2017. He’s 98 years old now. Jo also lives at Westminster. She moved there around the same time — her husband died after 67 years of marriage. She’s 96.
“Wherever I was, he was there,” Jo said. “I would look up and there he was right there. And I thought, ‘Well, maybe this man — maybe he likes me a little bit.’”
“I didn't think there was going to be anybody. [I] never even thought about it because it just didn't seem logical.”— Bernard Snyder
Bernard’s wife had died in 2023 after a long illness. They’d been married for 73 years. Now, he was a bit lonely. He finally got the nerve to ask Jo something. “I said, ‘I'm looking for a dinner partner because I hate eating alone.’”
They started eating dinner together and going for walks in the courtyard. The more time they spent together, the more they fell for each other.
Jo was impressed by how gentlemanly he was. Bernard was drawn to Jo’s style. “She just had a lot of class,” Bernard said.
They spent more time together, growing closer and closer. “It didn't ever occur to me that I would meet anybody — or even want to,” Jo said. “But I guess I fell in love with him … after a few months.”
And Bernard felt the same.
“I'm thinking, ‘I was married 73 years,’ which is a long time. I didn't think there was going to be anybody," he said. "[I] never even thought about it because it just didn't seem logical.”
There’s nothing logical about love, of course. Sometimes it just doesn’t make any sense. But Bernard and Jo’s romance grew quickly. And at their age, time doesn’t wait.
“He mentioned marriage one time. I said, you know, ‘I haven't even considered such a thing,’” Jo said.
Their relationship was becoming something that neither one of them had imagined was even possible. But they did get engaged — although there was no getting on one knee or anything like that.
“I could have probably forced that, but I didn’t,” Jo said. But it felt right.
Now they just had to tell their kids.
“Our greatest worry was our children,” Jo said. Bernard had seen men of his generation get remarried after their wives passed, in some cases upsetting their children. But as it turns out, Jo’s three kids and Bernard’s three kids were in full support.
“Whatever makes you happy, makes us happy,” they told the couple.
In fact, their children planned the whole thing. The ceremony, the reception and everything.
This past Friday, family and friends gathered in a courtyard at Westminster to celebrate Jo and Bernard’s wedding. After a brief delay as they awaited a pastor — Jo is Protestant, Bernard is Jewish — the ceremony got underway.
The couple exchanged vows and rings. A rabbi chanted blessings. They broke a glass. Butterflies were released. And in the end, Jo and Bernard were all smiles.
But they’re also keenly aware that life is fleeting. They both know the pain of losing a spouse, but they’re grateful for whatever time they get.
“I hope we get as much as five years. But I think we will enjoy each other as long as we have it,” Bernard said.
“The basic crux of the whole story is that you can love again,” Jo said. “It's wonderful to know that you can.”
