Latest news with #Kerri
Yahoo
08-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
I'm 36 and have friends in their 50s, 60s, and 70s. They've given me great advice, and their perspectives are a gift.
I always wanted to have older friends, and I finally made a group of them in a writer's group. I am grateful for their advice and perspectives. They've taught me that aging can bring confidence and that each season of life brings new things. In my 20s, a friend of mine had friendships with a few older women that I envied. They weren't mentors to her, but genuine friends, which meant when she shared her vulnerabilities, they also shared theirs. I could tell how much she gleaned from their sage advice and perspectives. There was a confidence that came from their proven life experience, and I wanted to learn from that, too. But I had no idea how to make older friends. A few years later, when I was 27, I joined a writer's critique group and unexpectedly gained the valuable relationships I had been hoping for with people in their 50s, 60s, and 70s. Perhaps the best part of having older friends who write memoirs and essays is that I am privy to their stories and their perspectives on life's hardships, and I hear what they think about my work and experiences, as well. Here are some of the most helpful things I've learned from them. As a mother of three young kids, part of me started to look forward to that season in life when I would have "me time" again. No children waking me in the middle of the night, no interruptions from my work when I was in deep focus mode, just peace and quiet and a schedule on my terms. I used to think the child-rearing season in my life was supposed to be a time of profound selflessness, but having older friends taught me that we often trade one hardship or caretaking responsibility for another. One of my friends cared for her husband through more than 20 years of illness due to Lewy Body Syndrome and early-onset Parkinson's. Still another is a tireless caretaker for her wheelchair-bound husband. And I have friends caring for their adult children, too, for mental and physical health-related reasons. While caretaking isn't a universal experience, every stage of life has its own inherent difficulties. Rather than relying on future "me time" when my children are older, I've started pursuing my hobbies and interests alongside raising them. Last summer, I had the opportunity to hike the Grand Canyon, but I worried about leaving my 1-year-old for the first time and the short training window. My friend Kerri grabbed my hand and said, "Go, don't let fear hold you back." "Hike it while you still have good knees," another friend, Linda, added. Because my older friends encouraged me, I went and had an unforgettable hike. Linda cared for her mother after a dementia diagnosis. "That must've been so hard," I said, pityingly. "It was an absolute privilege," Linda answered. I want to be more like Linda and accept each new phase of life as a privilege and an opportunity for growth. One day, I confessed to Kerri that despite my best efforts, my newfound love handles seemed determined to stick around. She responded with a knowing smile. "As we age, our bodies settle into themselves." She said it like it was a good thing — and for the first time, I wondered if that could be true. Some of my friends say aging has brought a new level of confidence. They've stopped caring what other people think quite so much, and choose to be themselves unapologetically. Despite wrinkles and flabbier arms and mid-sections, they feel more comfortable in their own skin. I'm told it's liberating. I find their authenticity inspiring and refreshing to be around. I want to be confident in the "settling," too, and not worry so much about achieving lifelong, youthful perfection. "You never stop feeling like you're 23," Linda told me once. "My mom used to say it to me, but I didn't believe her. Now I do." She smiled, her dimples prominent. "Our bodies age, but our spirits stay young." Linda says that part of feeling young forever is always learning and experiencing new things, and age is just a number. I believe her. Read the original article on Business Insider
Business Insider
08-05-2025
- General
- Business Insider
I'm 36 and have friends in their 50s, 60s, and 70s. They've given me great advice, and their perspectives are a gift.
In my 20s, a friend of mine had friendships with a few older women that I envied. They weren't mentors to her, but genuine friends, which meant when she shared her vulnerabilities, they also shared theirs. I could tell how much she gleaned from their sage advice and perspectives. There was a confidence that came from their proven life experience, and I wanted to learn from that, too. But I had no idea how to make older friends. A few years later, when I was 27, I joined a writer's critique group and unexpectedly gained the valuable relationships I had been hoping for with people in their 50s, 60s, and 70s. Perhaps the best part of having older friends who write memoirs and essays is that I am privy to their stories and their perspectives on life's hardships, and I hear what they think about my work and experiences, as well. Here are some of the most helpful things I've learned from them. We often trade one hardship for another As a mother of three young kids, part of me started to look forward to that season in life when I would have "me time" again. No children waking me in the middle of the night, no interruptions from my work when I was in deep focus mode, just peace and quiet and a schedule on my terms. I used to think the child-rearing season in my life was supposed to be a time of profound selflessness, but having older friends taught me that we often trade one hardship or caretaking responsibility for another. One of my friends cared for her husband through more than 20 years of illness due to Lewy Body Syndrome and early-onset Parkinson's. Still another is a tireless caretaker for her wheelchair-bound husband. And I have friends caring for their adult children, too, for mental and physical health-related reasons. While caretaking isn't a universal experience, every stage of life has its own inherent difficulties. Rather than relying on future "me time" when my children are older, I've started pursuing my hobbies and interests alongside raising them. Last summer, I had the opportunity to hike the Grand Canyon, but I worried about leaving my 1-year-old for the first time and the short training window. My friend Kerri grabbed my hand and said, "Go, don't let fear hold you back." "Hike it while you still have good knees," another friend, Linda, added. Because my older friends encouraged me, I went and had an unforgettable hike. Whatever life throws at you, it's best to keep a positive perspective Linda cared for her mother after a dementia diagnosis. "That must've been so hard," I said, pityingly. "It was an absolute privilege," Linda answered. I want to be more like Linda and accept each new phase of life as a privilege and an opportunity for growth. Aging can bring a new level of self-confidence One day, I confessed to Kerri that despite my best efforts, my newfound love handles seemed determined to stick around. She responded with a knowing smile. "As we age, our bodies settle into themselves." She said it like it was a good thing — and for the first time, I wondered if that could be true. Some of my friends say aging has brought a new level of confidence. They've stopped caring what other people think quite so much, and choose to be themselves unapologetically. Despite wrinkles and flabbier arms and mid-sections, they feel more comfortable in their own skin. I'm told it's liberating. I find their authenticity inspiring and refreshing to be around. I want to be confident in the "settling," too, and not worry so much about achieving lifelong, youthful perfection. There's a part of us that never really ages "You never stop feeling like you're 23," Linda told me once. "My mom used to say it to me, but I didn't believe her. Now I do." She smiled, her dimples prominent. "Our bodies age, but our spirits stay young." Linda says that part of feeling young forever is always learning and experiencing new things, and age is just a number. I believe her.
RNZ News
05-05-2025
- Health
- RNZ News
RSV vaccine used in 40 other countries could save babies' lives
More modern vaccines for pregnant women and babies are available overseas. Photo: Unsplash A vaccine available in about 40 other countries could cut hospitalisation of babies with a potentially deadly lung infection by 80 percent, according to child health experts. New Zealand has the world's highest rates of serious illness caused by Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV), with 2000 children under five admitted to hospital each year, due to complications from the virus. Early childhood teacher Kerri had an outbreak at her Auckland centre last month, which turned out to be RSV. "It went very quickly from coughing on and off to a really big cough in a short space of time," she said. "Some of them started coughing so hard, they actually vomited, so once that happened, we started sending children home." Not everyone was tested, but Kerri estimated 8-10 children fell sick and the sibling of one child had to be hospitalised. She was already on high alert, after a previous experience with RSV. "One child, I remember, they developed it and they ended up in hospital in an induced coma, and that was really scary. I didn't realise how bad it was, until that case." Starship Hospital paediatrician Cameron Grant said rates were even higher for Māori and Pacific children, with three and four times more likely than Pakeha babies to be hospitalised, along with those living in poorer households. "Pneumonia and bronchiolitis, which are the most common infections it causes, are roughly twice those of England and the United States." As of 1 January, only one vaccine (Palivizumab) is funded in New Zealand for a very small number of high-risk babies - those who are extremely premature or have other serious health problems. It needs to be given as an intramuscular injection every month, which presents its own logistical difficulties. Grant, who is also professor of child health at Auckland University, said more modern vaccines for both pregnant women and babies provided protection for at least six months, but these were not available in New Zealand. "It's now more than 40 other countries around the world are using these, including Australia. "All we have is a product that was developed 25 years ago, which involves an intramuscular injection each month, and the only reason we've got it here is because all these other countries are buying these newer products, which are better." Infectious disease expert Elizabeth Wilson said RSV vaccination was now offered to every baby in the United States before winter. "It's hugely effective. There's data coming out from various places - Paris, Galicia, the States, Western Australia - and all are showing well into the 80 percent protection, certainly against hospital admission with RSV." The other group at risk of serious illness from RSV is the elderly. The vaccine Arexvy is approved for use in New Zealand for those aged 60 and older, but that is not funded and costs $475. However, there was nothing for pregnant women or children, even if families were prepared to pay for it, Wilson said. Both doctors were disappointed that Pharmac had no plans to fund a vaccine to protect babies, despite their advocacy. "We've had no indication that it's going to happen in the near future," Wilson said. Professor Grant was blunt in his assessment of the lack of action: "We don't value child health in New Zealand as much as any of these other countries." The vaccines would save the health system money by reducing serious illness and hospitalisations, he said. "More importantly, they could save lives". Pharmac director for advice and assessment Dr David Hughes said the agency had not received a funding application for an RSV vaccine for young people or pregnant people, nor for a new preventative treatment for young people at risk from RSV infection. "We have been talking with the suppliers of these vaccines and preventative treatments to understand their interest in submitting funding applications," he said. In assessing applications, Pharmac had to consider a number of factors, "including the costs and potential savings to the health system", while suppliers also needed to apply to Medsafe for regulatory approval. Pharmac did receive a funding application for the Arexvy vaccine for adults aged 60 and older in January last year, but that application remained "on hold, until further information can be provided". "There are always more medicines we would like to fund and while some are medicines available in other countries, our funding and reimbursement systems are often not comparable," Hughes said. "We need to make our own decisions about what to fund and for who in New Zealand." While Pharmac determined which vaccines ere funded and the eligibility criteria, Health NZ | Te Whatu Ora was responsible for actually delivering those vaccines. The health official in charge of immunisation programmes, Jolene Proffit from the National Public Health Service, said Abrysvo (the vaccine for pregnant women) was "not currently approved for use in New Zealand". Sign up for Ngā Pitopito Kōrero, a daily newsletter curated by our editors and delivered straight to your inbox every weekday.
CNN
25-04-2025
- CNN
They had a teen summer romance. 26 years later, they reunited
When American teenager Kerri Cunningham was dragged by her parents to Europe in the summer of 1993, she was less than impressed. Dragged might sound like dramatic wording, but that's how 14-year-old Kerri saw it at the time. Kerri reacted to the vacation plans 'from the teenage point of view of 'Oh, it's taking away from my summer break, and I want to hang out with my friends.'' Leaving her beachside hometown in the Hamptons, in New York, was the last thing she wanted. 'I was dreading the trip,' Kerri tells CNN Travel today. Looking back today, Kerri says this was all a bit of a 'spoiled brat, teenage attitude.' The trip — embarking first to the UK, then France and culminating in a two-week-bus tour around Italy — was an amazing opportunity. Kerri realizes now that she was fortunate. Her parents wanted their daughters to see the world. But it was hard to see it that way back then. All teenage Kerri could fixate on was the time away from her life in New York. Little did Kerri know this voyage to Europe would change her life forever. That she'd still feel the reverberations of this trip three decades on. The first few days of the trip were uneventful, at least in Kerri's mind. She sulked her way across the UK, and boarded a ferry with the other tour participants from Dover, England to Calais, France. She was glad two of her sisters were on the trip too, but she still resented being there. 'And then I saw Dirk,' recalls Kerri. 'And it instantly got better.' As the ship crossed the English Channel, and the White Cliffs of Dover retreated into the distance, Kerri's parents got chatting to an English family, the Stevenses, who were also en route to the continent to embark on the Italy bus tour. Dirk was their 15-year-old son. Like Kerri, he was a reluctant teenage tagalong to a family holiday. But then he smiled at Kerri, and everything started to look up. Kerri thought he was 'so handsome.' 'I was immediately smitten,' she admits. 'Hugh Grant was really big at that time. And he sort of had this young Hugh Grant hair. Being an American girl, Hugh Grant was the guy.' 'A bad haircut,' says Dirk today, laughing. 'But it worked at the time.' Dirk tells CNN Travel he also felt an 'instant attraction' to Kerri. He vividly remembers his first impression of her: 'Beautiful smile, dark hair, really pretty.' Before long, the two teens were sitting side-by-side, sharing headphones and listening to Kerri's Walkman music player. Their parents bonded quickly, too. 'We all just got chatting and hit it off,' recalls Dirk. 'Our dads are sort of similar guys, you know, like to take machines apart, make something new, build something, design something, have a bonfire…' As the group disembarked the ferry in France and boarded the bus to Italy — stopping off here and there en route — the two families grew even closer. 'Our dads would be in a pub somewhere or grabbing a drink, and the moms would be shopping,' recalls Kerri. Their parents' friendship helped cement Kerri and Dirk's bond, and Kerri also enjoyed observing the way Dirk interacted with his family. Dirk's dad used a wheelchair, and Dirk was often the family member who'd help his dad navigate the cobbled streets of Italy. 'Here's this 15-year-old who's pushing his dad all over Europe in this wheelchair, and not complaining about it, and getting on with it, but doing it with a smile on his face,' Kerri recalls. She noticed that Dirk seemed to always 'see the bright side of everything.' His warm, breezy attitude won her over. 'I had never met anyone my age who was so comfortable with himself and his family and so accepting of me and mine,' says Kerri. 'Everything was just easy and fun. We just got each other and there was a very strong attraction.' In the evenings, while the parents were deep in conversation and Kerri's sisters were doing their own thing, Dirk and Kerri would steal time alone. 'Us two, sneaking off…' recalls Dirk. 'There are pictures of us with bottles of champagne we'd taken at dinner.' They became 'fast friends, which became romantic,' as Dirk puts it. At one of the Italian hotels, they danced together, arm-in-arm. They always sat together at dinners, stealing glances and sharing in-jokes. 'We just felt so comfortable together,' says Dirk. 'I remember being on a gondola in Venice and just laughing the entire time.' 'I'm pretty sure we stole a few kisses when our parents weren't looking,' says Kerri. 'I thought he was the cutest boy I had ever met.' At the end of the two-week tour, the Cunninghams and the Stevenses promised to stay in touch. There was already talk about getting together the following summer. Still, for Dirk and Kerri, saying goodbye wasn't easy. In fact, 'it was awful,' says Dirk. 'Just as you find someone special, you have to say goodbye,' he recalls. 'But, our parents had already said we'd meet them next summer. Nothing was planned at that point, but everyone was excited for the idea.' Back in their respective hometowns on opposite sides of the Atlantic, the Cunningham family and the Stevens family remained connected. 'Mum would talk to Mom and we'd be on the phone after,' recalls Dirk. 'And Dad with Dad. Soon dates were arranged and the excitement and anticipation builds up.' A plan was in place: the Stevenses would visit New York in the following summer of 1994, and stay with the Cunninghams at their home on Long Island. As they counted down to this reunion, Dirk and Kerri exchanged letters, sending each other magazine clippings and writing dispatches about their lives on opposite sides of the Atlantic. They also enjoyed 'long phone calls with the old plug-in phones, when you had a really long extension lead so you could go and sit on the stairs or in the bathroom to try and get privacy,' as Dirk recalls. 'My dad was very strict, so I wasn't allowed to talk to many boys on the phone,' says Kerri. But Dirk was an exception. 'Unlike other boys our age, he wasn't afraid to talk to my parents on the phone,' she says. 'In fact, I think he really enjoyed it! And my parents really loved him.' For Kerri and Dirk, the 12-month countdown to their reunion only intensified their feelings for each other. 'We'd missed each other for a year, were desperate to see each other,' says Dirk. Kerri remembers the moment she saw Dirk again on Long Island in summer 1994. He smiled at her. Right away, she felt 'at home.' She loved how he greeted her, calling her 'darling.' 'I know it's an English thing,' says Kerri of the pet name. 'But when he called me 'darling' — in person, in emails or on the phone — my heart would just melt.' 'It was a very exciting time,' says Dirk of that summer in New York. Kerri and Dirk spent every moment together. They hung out at the beach together, Dirk tagged along to Kerri's summer job. They spent long evenings in each other's company. We loved each other and were great friends, but we lived an ocean apart and never even considered being together. I guess we thought… 'How could we?' We were just teenagers. Kerri Cunningham 'This was first-love stuff,' says Dirk. 'Knowing that our time together was limited, made it all the more special.' 'We loved each other and were great friends, but we lived an ocean apart and never even considered being together. I guess we thought… 'How could we?' We were just teenagers,' says Kerri. When Kerri and Dirk said goodbye at the end of Dirk's visit, they did so accepting 'that we couldn't be together,' she says. 'But knowing that we'd get to see each other again at some point,' adds Dirk. 'Yeah,' says Kerri. 'I kind of felt like, 'Oh, we'll always… we'll always…' '…Have this,' says Dirk, finishing Kerri's sentence. After their New York summer, Kerri and Dirk continued to write letters and speak to each other on the phone. But as they finished up high school, this communication gradually slowed down. Calls became 'every two months, then three months…' recalls Dirk. Then they dropped off almost completely when they graduated. It was still the mid-1990s, and there was no social media offering easy long distance back-and-forth. Staying in touch required time and effort. 'We both got busy. We loved each other, but we weren't sure when we'd get to see each other again,' says Dirk. 'We were both students that couldn't afford expensive flights. Life gets in the way.' 'We were both going to college, working, dating and our lives were moving ahead,' says Kerri. 'We were so far apart, being together just didn't seem possible.' Still, even when they weren't in touch, the two always thought of each other fondly. Plus, their parents remained connected, so Kerri and Dirk got regular secondhand updates on each other. 'Mum would pass me on information about Kerri and the family,' recalls Dirk. 'We'd catch each other every now and then.' As email became more commonplace, Kerri and Dirk would send the occasional note back and forth. They'd write, as Dirk recalls it, 'how you doing? Thought of you today. Miss you.' 'Emails were easier than phone calls,' he says. Then, in Kerri's first year of college, her father was diagnosed with ALS, a progressive neurodegenerative disease. When she was 19, he passed away. It was a devastating loss for Kerri and the Cunningham family. The Stevenses were also heartbroken to hear the news. Around the time of her father's death, Kerri had been supposed to go to Paris with some girlfriends. The trip got called off. Through the grapevine, Dirk's mother heard about Kerri's canceled vacation. She immediately offered a suggestion to Kerri's mother: she'd love to take Kerri and Dirk to Paris, together. Dirk's mother had studied there when she was younger, and knew the city well. It was the least she could do, she said, after the loss they'd weathered. Looking back today, Kerri suggests that Dirk's mother was also keen for Dirk to reconnect with Kerri. 'She knew how much we cared for each other and I think she wanted us to be together as much as we wanted it,' says Kerri. Kerri's mother encouraged her daughter to go. Soon, Kerri started daydreaming about Paris again. Flights were booked and hotels arranged — and Kerri and Dirk got back in regular touch. Via email, they started counting down the days until their reunion. 'All that excitement built up again,' says Dirk. Kerri hoped seeing Dirk would be a balm to her grief. And when he picked her up from the airport in February 2001, she was proven right. It was like they'd never been apart, though it had been seven years since they'd last seen each other in person. They were now in their early 20s. 'We were different, we'd grown up a bit,' says Dirk. 'Kerri was more beautiful.' 'It happened to be Valentine's Day week,' says Kerri. 'It was very romantic.' With Dirk's mother leading the way, Kerri and Dirk visited Notre Dame, took walks on the Seine, climbed the Eiffel Tower, visited the Moulin Rouge and toured the Louvre. They also went off the tourist track. 'Mum had studied Art History and languages there, so she took us to see unusual buildings, unique architecture, cafes she remembered…' says Dirk. Everywhere in Paris felt suffused with romance. The Eiffel Tower was emblazoned with a big red heart. All the restaurants had roses on the table centerpiece. 'Everywhere we went Dirk would say 'Do you like that? I ordered it special, just for you.' And his mom and I would laugh,' says Kerri. But it really did feel, recalls Kerri, like 'everything in Paris that week was for us.' 'It was magical,' she says. 'After his mom would go to bed, we'd go out and find a little bar where we would have drinks and dance and share our fears and our dreams. It was so lovely and I didn't want it to end.' The trip was perfect, but it also felt bittersweet. Kerri was grieving her father. Some part of her also saw Paris as a farewell to her teenage love for Dirk. As an adult, she felt the barriers of ever being together even more acutely. 'It just seemed impossible,' she says. Dirk and Kerri were now in their early twenties, tied to their respective home countries through jobs, friends and commitments. They said farewell at the end of the week with no plans to see one another again. 'We knew we'd keep in touch and fate would do its thing,' says Dirk. 'It's always a tough goodbye, with hugs, tears and kisses.' 'I guess it always felt like a 'vacation romance' and we told ourselves that's all it was to avoid getting hurt,' says Kerri. After Paris, Kerri went back to New York and Dirk returned to the UK. As they moved through their twenties, Kerri and Dirk both made life choices that cemented them on different paths. 'I had different girlfriends, and ended up having a baby and later getting married and having three children,' says Dirk. Meanwhile, Kerri met and fell in love with a fellow Long Islander, Dean. The Cunningham family and the Stevens family remained in touch. Kerri's mother went to Dirk's sister's wedding in the UK. Dirk's parents visited Kerri's mother in New York. And Dirk's parents attended Kerri's wedding to Dean, in the summer of 2010. 'All the families were still connected and loved each other,' says Dirk. Through their families, Kerri and Dirk learned updates about one another, and how they were navigating life's ups and downs. In 2015, Dirk's daughter was diagnosed with a rare genetic neurological and developmental disorder. Then in 2016, his mother died suddenly. And that same year, Kerri's husband Dean was diagnosed with a terminal Glioblastoma brain tumor. Dirk reached out to Kerri after hearing the news, offering his support from afar. But Kerri was swept up in hospital appointments, caring for her husband and processing the inevitable loss that was to come. 'It was 20 years after my dad…it just felt like 'This is happening again,'' recalls Kerri. 'I remember looking at my mom and my sister and just saying, 'I can't do this.' But you do it, you find the strength and you do it.' Eighteen months after his cancer diagnosis, Dean passed away. 'I lost him in 2017,' says Kerri. 'We did not have any children.' In the aftermath of Dean's passing, Kerri says her 'world turned upside down.' She didn't know how to process the loss or what to do next. A couple of years passed in a blur. Kerri fell into a relationship that didn't feel right. She agonized over the future. 'Then my aunt suggested a trip to Ireland with her to 'get away,'' says Kerri. 'Around the same time, Dirk emailed me to see how I was doing. I told him of my upcoming plans for Ireland and he asked if he and his dad could meet us there. We hadn't seen each other in 17 years.' Kerri was surprised when Dirk suggested joining her in Dublin. She said Dirk and his father were welcome to come along, but internally, she doubted they would. Kerri knew Dirk was married, with three children in the picture. She thought it was unlikely that he would board a flight to Dublin to see old family friends out of the blue. But unbeknownst to Kerri, Dirk was separated from his wife. The couple had gone through a tough time and were in the process of getting divorced. Dirk had moved in with his father. Dirk didn't mention any of this to Kerri in his emails. He didn't want to seem like he was trying to overshadow Kerri's loss. And he didn't have any specific intentions when he got back in touch. He'd just been trying to reconnect with old friends in the wake of his marriage breaking down. He knew his father would enjoy seeing Kerri, and it was easy for them to get to Ireland from their home in England. Until the moment Kerri and Dirk reunited in Dublin, she didn't believe he'd come. But then, suddenly, he was in front of her. Standing there, in person, for the first time in almost two decades. 'When we saw each other, we hugged so tightly and I started crying. I realized I had never stopped loving him and, boy, was it nice to be hugged by such an old, true friend,' recalls Kerri. She surprised herself by feeling the same sentiment she'd felt when she reunited with Dirk on Long Island, in the summer of 1994: 'It felt like I was home.' Dirk felt this same feeling when he saw Kerri: a surprising certainty that everything was right with the world, despite everything they'd been through while they were apart. When we saw each other, we hugged so tightly and I started crying. I realized I had never stopped loving him and, boy, was it nice to be hugged by such an old, true friend. Kerri Cunningham The two spent the rest of the day in Dublin together, with Dirk's father and Kerri's aunt completing the party. They toured the Guinness Factory and went out for dinner as a group. And as Dirk pushed his father's wheelchair through the Dublin streets, Kerri's aunt walked alongside, Kerri had a feeling of déjà vu. It felt like the summer they'd first met, touring Europe in 1993, 'like we were teenagers again. Just exploring a city with our chaperones.' They were only together for a couple of days, but during this time, Kerri and Dirk opened up to each other. She told Dirk about her unhappiness and uncertainty amid her grief. He told her about his marriage breakdown. 'As old friends do, we talked — about all the good and bad going on in our lives — and the truth came out,' says Kerri. 'It felt like some divine intervention that we were there for each other.' 'That holiday, the time we spent, was just perfect, and it was just what we both needed, unknowingly, perhaps,' says Dirk. It helped that their long history led to an easy comfort, even after years apart. They felt able to be totally honest with each other. 'It was very freeing to just be with someone that you trust and spill your guts to them,' says Kerri. That holiday, the time we spent, was just perfect, and it was just what we both needed, unknowingly, perhaps Dirk Stevens Perhaps it was Kerri and Dirk's ease with one another that explained why, everywhere they went, strangers assumed they were a couple. 'In a pub, just having a conversation in a queue…they're like, 'Oh my God. How long have you two been together? You're the nicest couple we've ever met,'' recalls Dirk. 'And we're like, 'No, we're not. We're old friends, and we just came with my dad and her aunt.'' The two laughed off strangers' assumptions, but both wondered if there was something in them. As they readied themselves to say goodbye, both Kerri and Dirk hoped this wouldn't be goodbye forever. And then, before Kerri left for the airport, Dirk decided to take a chance: he told Kerri he loved her. 'Maybe we can make this work?' he asked her. For Kerri, this was the decisive moment. It was scary and unknown, but she felt she should take a leap of faith into a life with Dirk. She knew she loved him too. 'I knew I had to give us a real chance, because something much bigger had brought us back together,' she says today. The leap of faith paid off. Today, six years since they reunited in Ireland, Kerri and Dirk are a couple, now in their forties, living life together, as a team. Kerri's job still ties her to the US, while Dirk's kids live with him fulltime, so he's in the UK. But the couple make the back and forth work. Kerri splits her time across the Atlantic, and loves spending time with Dirk's children. She says getting to know them has been 'a real gift.' In the six years since they reunited, Kerri and Dirk have helped each other rebuild their lives, embrace the present and embark on a new future together. 'Needless to say, both of our families were over the moon,' adds Kerri. Dirk's father recently passed away, but before he died, he told Kerri she was the best thing that happened to his son. Kerri's mother, who is in her eighties, is also very supportive. When Kerri told her she'd reunited with Dirk, Kerri's mother told her their love story was 'written in the stars.' 'While she doesn't love me being so far away most of the year, she knows that I am where I'm meant to be,' says Kerri. While Kerri and Dirk wish that her father and his mother had also lived to see them finally get together, Kerri believes they know. She feels their presence, their influence in her life, all the time. 'We have lots of angels that look over us,' Kerri says, referring to all the loved ones she and Dirk have lost, including her late husband, Dean, who she'll always hold close to her heart. 'Dean and I, we traveled all around the world, and we did fun stuff, and he lived an amazing life as well. I'm forever grateful for those years,' Kerri says, reflecting that 'Dean would be very happy' to see where she is today. Navigating the loss of her late husband also helped Kerri have the courage to embrace her new chapter with Dirk. While she always felt safe and comfortable with Dirk, she knew any relationship comes with risk, with its challenges and uncertainties. 'But after Dean died, I said, 'I'm not afraid of anything, because I feel like I've been through the worst thing possible,'' recalls Kerri. 'If this doesn't work, then it doesn't work.' And when Dirk makes her laugh and makes her smile, Kerri embraces that happiness wholeheartedly and gratefully, not taking any of it for granted. 'We always have fun,' Kerri says of her life with Dirk. 'You can't be sad forever. Life goes on, and I think everybody deserves to be happy…and the hard times are always the hardest when you're in them and you realize how strong you know we all are. We're all a lot stronger than we think we are.' Together, Kerri and Dirk's attitude to life is to 'accept and enjoy the journey,' as Dirk puts it. 'Enjoy the journey,' echoes Kerri. 'That's how we started. We started out on a journey. And we met each other.' 'And now we're just continuing the journey,' says Dirk. 'Let the universe take you along. You know, it will guide you where you're meant to go.' Kerri adds — jokingly — that the moral of their story is 'go on a trip with your parents when you're a teenager, even if you don't want to.' But more seriously, Kerri suggests it's 'allow yourself to be happy, and to be open to the universe.' 'We were always meant to be together,' she says of Dirk. 'We are twin flames that found our way back to each other after all those years.'
CNN
25-04-2025
- CNN
They had a teen summer romance. 26 years later, they reunited
When American teenager Kerri Cunningham was dragged by her parents to Europe in the summer of 1993, she was less than impressed. Dragged might sound like dramatic wording, but that's how 14-year-old Kerri saw it at the time. Kerri reacted to the vacation plans 'from the teenage point of view of 'Oh, it's taking away from my summer break, and I want to hang out with my friends.'' Leaving her beachside hometown in the Hamptons, in New York, was the last thing she wanted. 'I was dreading the trip,' Kerri tells CNN Travel today. Looking back today, Kerri says this was all a bit of a 'spoiled brat, teenage attitude.' The trip — embarking first to the UK, then France and culminating in a two-week-bus tour around Italy — was an amazing opportunity. Kerri realizes now that she was fortunate. Her parents wanted their daughters to see the world. But it was hard to see it that way back then. All teenage Kerri could fixate on was the time away from her life in New York. Little did Kerri know this voyage to Europe would change her life forever. That she'd still feel the reverberations of this trip three decades on. The first few days of the trip were uneventful, at least in Kerri's mind. She sulked her way across the UK, and boarded a ferry with the other tour participants from Dover, England to Calais, France. She was glad two of her sisters were on the trip too, but she still resented being there. 'And then I saw Dirk,' recalls Kerri. 'And it instantly got better.' As the ship crossed the English Channel, and the White Cliffs of Dover retreated into the distance, Kerri's parents got chatting to an English family, the Stevenses, who were also en route to the continent to embark on the Italy bus tour. Dirk was their 15-year-old son. Like Kerri, he was a reluctant teenage tagalong to a family holiday. But then he smiled at Kerri, and everything started to look up. Kerri thought he was 'so handsome.' 'I was immediately smitten,' she admits. 'Hugh Grant was really big at that time. And he sort of had this young Hugh Grant hair. Being an American girl, Hugh Grant was the guy.' 'A bad haircut,' says Dirk today, laughing. 'But it worked at the time.' Dirk tells CNN Travel he also felt an 'instant attraction' to Kerri. He vividly remembers his first impression of her: 'Beautiful smile, dark hair, really pretty.' Before long, the two teens were sitting side-by-side, sharing headphones and listening to Kerri's Walkman music player. Their parents bonded quickly, too. 'We all just got chatting and hit it off,' recalls Dirk. 'Our dads are sort of similar guys, you know, like to take machines apart, make something new, build something, design something, have a bonfire…' As the group disembarked the ferry in France and boarded the bus to Italy — stopping off here and there en route — the two families grew even closer. 'Our dads would be in a pub somewhere or grabbing a drink, and the moms would be shopping,' recalls Kerri. Their parents' friendship helped cement Kerri and Dirk's bond, and Kerri also enjoyed observing the way Dirk interacted with his family. Dirk's dad used a wheelchair, and Dirk was often the family member who'd help his dad navigate the cobbled streets of Italy. 'Here's this 15-year-old who's pushing his dad all over Europe in this wheelchair, and not complaining about it, and getting on with it, but doing it with a smile on his face,' Kerri recalls. She noticed that Dirk seemed to always 'see the bright side of everything.' His warm, breezy attitude won her over. 'I had never met anyone my age who was so comfortable with himself and his family and so accepting of me and mine,' says Kerri. 'Everything was just easy and fun. We just got each other and there was a very strong attraction.' In the evenings, while the parents were deep in conversation and Kerri's sisters were doing their own thing, Dirk and Kerri would steal time alone. 'Us two, sneaking off…' recalls Dirk. 'There are pictures of us with bottles of champagne we'd taken at dinner.' They became 'fast friends, which became romantic,' as Dirk puts it. At one of the Italian hotels, they danced together, arm-in-arm. They always sat together at dinners, stealing glances and sharing in-jokes. 'We just felt so comfortable together,' says Dirk. 'I remember being on a gondola in Venice and just laughing the entire time.' 'I'm pretty sure we stole a few kisses when our parents weren't looking,' says Kerri. 'I thought he was the cutest boy I had ever met.' At the end of the two-week tour, the Cunninghams and the Stevenses promised to stay in touch. There was already talk about getting together the following summer. Still, for Dirk and Kerri, saying goodbye wasn't easy. In fact, 'it was awful,' says Dirk. 'Just as you find someone special, you have to say goodbye,' he recalls. 'But, our parents had already said we'd meet them next summer. Nothing was planned at that point, but everyone was excited for the idea.' Back in their respective hometowns on opposite sides of the Atlantic, the Cunningham family and the Stevens family remained connected. 'Mum would talk to Mom and we'd be on the phone after,' recalls Dirk. 'And Dad with Dad. Soon dates were arranged and the excitement and anticipation builds up.' A plan was in place: the Stevenses would visit New York in the following summer of 1994, and stay with the Cunninghams at their home on Long Island. As they counted down to this reunion, Dirk and Kerri exchanged letters, sending each other magazine clippings and writing dispatches about their lives on opposite sides of the Atlantic. They also enjoyed 'long phone calls with the old plug-in phones, when you had a really long extension lead so you could go and sit on the stairs or in the bathroom to try and get privacy,' as Dirk recalls. 'My dad was very strict, so I wasn't allowed to talk to many boys on the phone,' says Kerri. But Dirk was an exception. 'Unlike other boys our age, he wasn't afraid to talk to my parents on the phone,' she says. 'In fact, I think he really enjoyed it! And my parents really loved him.' For Kerri and Dirk, the 12-month countdown to their reunion only intensified their feelings for each other. 'We'd missed each other for a year, were desperate to see each other,' says Dirk. Kerri remembers the moment she saw Dirk again on Long Island in summer 1994. He smiled at her. Right away, she felt 'at home.' She loved how he greeted her, calling her 'darling.' 'I know it's an English thing,' says Kerri of the pet name. 'But when he called me 'darling' — in person, in emails or on the phone — my heart would just melt.' 'It was a very exciting time,' says Dirk of that summer in New York. Kerri and Dirk spent every moment together. They hung out at the beach together, Dirk tagged along to Kerri's summer job. They spent long evenings in each other's company. We loved each other and were great friends, but we lived an ocean apart and never even considered being together. I guess we thought… 'How could we?' We were just teenagers. Kerri Cunningham 'This was first-love stuff,' says Dirk. 'Knowing that our time together was limited, made it all the more special.' 'We loved each other and were great friends, but we lived an ocean apart and never even considered being together. I guess we thought… 'How could we?' We were just teenagers,' says Kerri. When Kerri and Dirk said goodbye at the end of Dirk's visit, they did so accepting 'that we couldn't be together,' she says. 'But knowing that we'd get to see each other again at some point,' adds Dirk. 'Yeah,' says Kerri. 'I kind of felt like, 'Oh, we'll always… we'll always…' '…Have this,' says Dirk, finishing Kerri's sentence. After their New York summer, Kerri and Dirk continued to write letters and speak to each other on the phone. But as they finished up high school, this communication gradually slowed down. Calls became 'every two months, then three months…' recalls Dirk. Then they dropped off almost completely when they graduated. It was still the mid-1990s, and there was no social media offering easy long distance back-and-forth. Staying in touch required time and effort. 'We both got busy. We loved each other, but we weren't sure when we'd get to see each other again,' says Dirk. 'We were both students that couldn't afford expensive flights. Life gets in the way.' 'We were both going to college, working, dating and our lives were moving ahead,' says Kerri. 'We were so far apart, being together just didn't seem possible.' Still, even when they weren't in touch, the two always thought of each other fondly. Plus, their parents remained connected, so Kerri and Dirk got regular secondhand updates on each other. 'Mum would pass me on information about Kerri and the family,' recalls Dirk. 'We'd catch each other every now and then.' As email became more commonplace, Kerri and Dirk would send the occasional note back and forth. They'd write, as Dirk recalls it, 'how you doing? Thought of you today. Miss you.' 'Emails were easier than phone calls,' he says. Then, in Kerri's first year of college, her father was diagnosed with ALS, a progressive neurodegenerative disease. When she was 19, he passed away. It was a devastating loss for Kerri and the Cunningham family. The Stevenses were also heartbroken to hear the news. Around the time of her father's death, Kerri had been supposed to go to Paris with some girlfriends. The trip got called off. Through the grapevine, Dirk's mother heard about Kerri's canceled vacation. She immediately offered a suggestion to Kerri's mother: she'd love to take Kerri and Dirk to Paris, together. Dirk's mother had studied there when she was younger, and knew the city well. It was the least she could do, she said, after the loss they'd weathered. Looking back today, Kerri suggests that Dirk's mother was also keen for Dirk to reconnect with Kerri. 'She knew how much we cared for each other and I think she wanted us to be together as much as we wanted it,' says Kerri. Kerri's mother encouraged her daughter to go. Soon, Kerri started daydreaming about Paris again. Flights were booked and hotels arranged — and Kerri and Dirk got back in regular touch. Via email, they started counting down the days until their reunion. 'All that excitement built up again,' says Dirk. Kerri hoped seeing Dirk would be a balm to her grief. And when he picked her up from the airport in February 2001, she was proven right. It was like they'd never been apart, though it had been seven years since they'd last seen each other in person. They were now in their early 20s. 'We were different, we'd grown up a bit,' says Dirk. 'Kerri was more beautiful.' 'It happened to be Valentine's Day week,' says Kerri. 'It was very romantic.' With Dirk's mother leading the way, Kerri and Dirk visited Notre Dame, took walks on the Seine, climbed the Eiffel Tower, visited the Moulin Rouge and toured the Louvre. They also went off the tourist track. 'Mum had studied Art History and languages there, so she took us to see unusual buildings, unique architecture, cafes she remembered…' says Dirk. Everywhere in Paris felt suffused with romance. The Eiffel Tower was emblazoned with a big red heart. All the restaurants had roses on the table centerpiece. 'Everywhere we went Dirk would say 'Do you like that? I ordered it special, just for you.' And his mom and I would laugh,' says Kerri. But it really did feel, recalls Kerri, like 'everything in Paris that week was for us.' 'It was magical,' she says. 'After his mom would go to bed, we'd go out and find a little bar where we would have drinks and dance and share our fears and our dreams. It was so lovely and I didn't want it to end.' The trip was perfect, but it also felt bittersweet. Kerri was grieving her father. Some part of her also saw Paris as a farewell to her teenage love for Dirk. As an adult, she felt the barriers of ever being together even more acutely. 'It just seemed impossible,' she says. Dirk and Kerri were now in their early twenties, tied to their respective home countries through jobs, friends and commitments. They said farewell at the end of the week with no plans to see one another again. 'We knew we'd keep in touch and fate would do its thing,' says Dirk. 'It's always a tough goodbye, with hugs, tears and kisses.' 'I guess it always felt like a 'vacation romance' and we told ourselves that's all it was to avoid getting hurt,' says Kerri. After Paris, Kerri went back to New York and Dirk returned to the UK. As they moved through their twenties, Kerri and Dirk both made life choices that cemented them on different paths. 'I had different girlfriends, and ended up having a baby and later getting married and having three children,' says Dirk. Meanwhile, Kerri met and fell in love with a fellow Long Islander, Dean. The Cunningham family and the Stevens family remained in touch. Kerri's sister went to Dirk's sister's wedding in the UK. Dirk's parents visited Kerri's mother in Florida, where she moved in the early 2000s. And Dirk's parents attended Kerri's wedding to Dean, in the summer of 2010. 'All the families were still connected and loved each other,' says Dirk. Through their families, Kerri and Dirk learned updates about one another, and how they were navigating life's ups and downs. In 2015, Dirk's daughter was diagnosed with a rare genetic neurological and developmental disorder. Then in 2016, his mother died suddenly. And that same year, Kerri's husband Dean was diagnosed with a terminal Glioblastoma brain tumor. Dirk reached out to Kerri after hearing the news, offering his support from afar. But Kerri was swept up in hospital appointments, caring for her husband and processing the inevitable loss that was to come. 'It was 20 years after my dad…it just felt like 'This is happening again,'' recalls Kerri. 'I remember looking at my mom and my sister and just saying, 'I can't do this.' But you do it, you find the strength and you do it.' Eighteen months after his cancer diagnosis, Dean passed away. 'I lost him in 2017,' says Kerri. 'We did not have any children.' In the aftermath of Dean's passing, Kerri says her 'world turned upside down.' She didn't know how to process the loss or what to do next. A couple of years passed in a blur. Kerri fell into a relationship that didn't feel right. She agonized over the future. 'Then my aunt suggested a trip to Ireland with her to 'get away,'' says Kerri. 'Around the same time, Dirk emailed me to see how I was doing. I told him of my upcoming plans for Ireland and he asked if he and his dad could meet us there. We hadn't seen each other in 17 years.' Kerri was surprised when Dirk suggested joining her in Dublin. She said Dirk and his father were welcome to come along, but internally, she doubted they would. Kerri knew Dirk was married, with three children in the picture. She thought it was unlikely that he would board a flight to Dublin to see old family friends out of the blue. But unbeknownst to Kerri, Dirk was separated from his wife. The couple had gone through a tough time and were in the process of getting divorced. Dirk had moved in with his father. Dirk didn't mention any of this to Kerri in his emails. He didn't want to seem like he was trying to overshadow Kerri's loss. And he didn't have any specific intentions when he got back in touch. He'd just been trying to reconnect with old friends in the wake of his marriage breaking down. He knew his father would enjoy seeing Kerri, and it was easy for them to get to Ireland from their home in England. Until the moment Kerri and Dirk reunited in Dublin, she didn't believe he'd come. But then, suddenly, he was in front of her. Standing there, in person, for the first time in almost two decades. 'When we saw each other, we hugged so tightly and I started crying. I realized I had never stopped loving him and, boy, was it nice to be hugged by such an old, true friend,' recalls Kerri. She surprised herself by feeling the same sentiment she'd felt when she reunited with Dirk on Long Island, in the summer of 1994: 'It felt like I was home.' Dirk felt this same feeling when he saw Kerri: a surprising certainty that everything was right with the world, despite everything they'd been through while they were apart. When we saw each other, we hugged so tightly and I started crying. I realized I had never stopped loving him and, boy, was it nice to be hugged by such an old, true friend. Kerri Cunningham The two spent the rest of the day in Dublin together, with Dirk's father and Kerri's aunt completing the party. They toured the Guinness Factory and went out for dinner as a group. And as Dirk pushed his father's wheelchair through the Dublin streets, Kerri's aunt walked alongside, Kerri had a feeling of déjà vu. It felt like the summer they'd first met, touring Europe in 1993, 'like we were teenagers again. Just exploring a city with our chaperones.' They were only together for a couple of days, but during this time, Kerri and Dirk opened up to each other. She told Dirk about her unhappiness and uncertainty amid her grief. He told her about his marriage breakdown. 'As old friends do, we talked — about all the good and bad going on in our lives — and the truth came out,' says Kerri. 'It felt like some divine intervention that we were there for each other.' 'That holiday, the time we spent, was just perfect, and it was just what we both needed, unknowingly, perhaps,' says Dirk. It helped that their long history led to an easy comfort, even after years apart. They felt able to be totally honest with each other. 'It was very freeing to just be with someone that you trust and spill your guts to them,' says Kerri. That holiday, the time we spent, was just perfect, and it was just what we both needed, unknowingly, perhaps Dirk Stevens Perhaps it was Kerri and Dirk's ease with one another that explained why, everywhere they went, strangers assumed they were a couple. 'In a pub, just having a conversation in a queue…they're like, 'Oh my God. How long have you two been together? You're the nicest couple we've ever met,'' recalls Dirk. 'And we're like, 'No, we're not. We're old friends, and we just came with my dad and her aunt.'' The two laughed off strangers' assumptions, but both wondered if there was something in them. As they readied themselves to say goodbye, both Kerri and Dirk hoped this wouldn't be goodbye forever. And then, before Kerri left for the airport, Dirk decided to take a chance: he told Kerri he loved her. 'Maybe we can make this work?' he asked her. For Kerri, this was the decisive moment. It was scary and unknown, but she felt she should take a leap of faith into a life with Dirk. She knew she loved him too. 'I knew I had to give us a real chance, because something much bigger had brought us back together,' she says today. The leap of faith paid off. Today, six years since they reunited in Ireland, Kerri and Dirk are a couple, now in their forties, living life together, as a team. Kerri's job still ties her to the US, while Dirk's kids live with him fulltime, so he's in the UK. But the couple make the back and forth work. Kerri splits her time across the Atlantic, and loves spending time with Dirk's children. She says getting to know them has been 'a real gift.' In the six years since they reunited, Kerri and Dirk have helped each other rebuild their lives, embrace the present and embark on a new future together. 'Needless to say, both of our families were over the moon,' adds Kerri. Dirk's father recently passed away, but before he died, he told Kerri she was the best thing that happened to his son. Kerri's mother, who is in her eighties and still living in Florida, is also very supportive. When Kerri told her she'd reunited with Dirk, Kerri's mother told her their love story was 'written in the stars.' 'While she doesn't love me being so far away most of the year, she knows that I am where I'm meant to be,' says Kerri. While Kerri and Dirk wish that her father and his mother had also lived to see them finally get together, Kerri believes they know. She feels their presence, their influence in her life, all the time. 'We have lots of angels that look over us,' Kerri says, referring to all the loved ones she and Dirk have lost, including her late husband, Dean, who she'll always hold close to her heart. 'Dean and I, we traveled all around the world, and we did fun stuff, and he lived an amazing life as well. I'm forever grateful for those years,' Kerri says, reflecting that 'Dean would be very happy' to see where she is today. Navigating the loss of her late husband also helped Kerri have the courage to embrace her new chapter with Dirk. While she always felt safe and comfortable with Dirk, she knew any relationship comes with risk, with its challenges and uncertainties. 'But after Dean died, I said, 'I'm not afraid of anything, because I feel like I've been through the worst thing possible,'' recalls Kerri. 'If this doesn't work, then it doesn't work.' And when Dirk makes her laugh and makes her smile, Kerri embraces that happiness wholeheartedly and gratefully, not taking any of it for granted. 'We always have fun,' Kerri says of her life with Dirk. 'You can't be sad forever. Life goes on, and I think everybody deserves to be happy…and the hard times are always the hardest when you're in them and you realize how strong you know we all are. We're all a lot stronger than we think we are.' Together, Kerri and Dirk's attitude to life is to 'accept and enjoy the journey,' as Dirk puts it. 'Enjoy the journey,' echoes Kerri. 'That's how we started. We started out on a journey. And we met each other.' 'And now we're just continuing the journey,' says Dirk. 'Let the universe take you along. You know, it will guide you where you're meant to go.' Kerri adds — jokingly — that the moral of their story is 'go on a trip with your parents when you're a teenager, even if you don't want to.' But more seriously, Kerri suggests it's 'allow yourself to be happy, and to be open to the universe.' 'We were always meant to be together,' she says of Dirk. 'We are twin flames that found our way back to each other after all those years.'
