When they were young, they might have gone dancing on Valentine's Day. That's the sort of date they often had back then, beginning when they were teenagers and their high school hosted a formal dance every month - and not with a DJ, George Guiles says emphatically, but a proper 14-piece orchestra.

"We danced to the end of every dance," George says.

George and Catherine "Kay" Guiles started dating when they were 15, which was a long time ago - before the Roosevelt administration, before George began his 30-year career at the bank, before they bought their new house for $4,750. It was before the arrival of their two children, their two grandchildren, their four great-grandchildren and their three great-great-grandchildren. And it was before they had to leave their beloved rowhouse in Upper Darby, Pa., where they had lived for 67 years, for a continuing-care facility just a few miles away from their family in Silver Spring.

This year, George and Kay will celebrate their 80th Valentine's Day as a couple. In the final chapter of their life together, they don't go out dancing all night anymore as they did when they were young and romantic. Their affection for each other is not expressed with jewelry or roses, but in the acts of devotion that define what it means to grow old with someone - the realities of commitment that young lovers might not think about or want to think about.

"We were 16 once," George says. "Now we are both 95."

"How did we get there so fast?" Kay asks him.

A new choreography



When they moved to the Riderwood Village Retirement Community five years ago, George didn't think they would last long. But against their expectations, they gradually lived their way into a new choreography: She is stronger physically; he is stronger mentally. Together they help each other through a series of daily tasks, always sure to say "please" and "thank you."

When they make sandwiches for lunch, he tells her what to take out of the fridge. She sets the ingredients on the table, and he puts them all together. She holds his wheelchair steady while he settles into it. Every night, they play Boggle or Upwords - Kay's favorite - to help keep her mind sharp.

"We're always together," George says. "It's a real pleasure for us to help each other. It's why we've lasted this long."

The two sit together in the living room of their modest apartment, George in a chair and Kay on a floral-patterned couch, as they talk about their daily activities. George, who likes to be comfortable, is wearing navy cotton pants and a casual shirt; Kay is wearing a pink sweater over a patterned blouse with matching jewelry, an outfit that George set out for her the night before.

Over 73 years of marriage, they've lost friends, in-laws, siblings. About 10 years ago, Kay started forgetting things, which frustrated her and made her angry. The sudden shift from her gentle demeanor baffled George before he understood that his wife was dealing with the onset of Alzheimer's disease.

Then there was the loss of mobility, and of the place they loved most. After George and Kay both fell down the stairs of their old house, it was time to let go of it. That also meant leaving behind weekly bridge games with friends, golf outings and the church where Kay was a charter member.