Alice ‘Nonie’ Dubes and Vivian Boyack, who married in Iowa on Saturday after 72 years together, tell the Guardian how ‘the best part of it is all the love we’ve received’

Meet the two women who were finally able to marry after 72 years together

To find out exactly when Alice “Nonie” Dubes met her new wife, Vivian Boyack, you need to listen through a short discussion between the pair as they recall “back then”. That’s because the couple, 90 and 91 respectively, have been together for 72 years.

“Nineteen forty-two, she says,” said Dubes, during a back-and-forth with Boyack between laughs as they confirm dates, names and places from their extraordinary history together in a phone call with the Guardian.

The lifelong Iowa residents met at college in Cedar Falls, a small town in the north of the state, far from the crucibles of the gay-rights battles that would be waged in cities such as New York and San Francisco. “It just hit us immediately – if you can understand that,” said Dubes. “Kind of like a regular marriage, the boy-and-girl meet … well, that was just the way we were.”

Except that in the 1940s, their relationship was everything but regular. It would be 57 years before Iowa legalised same-sex marriage, the first state in the midwest to do so. On Saturday, Dubes and Boyack went public with their relationship for the first time, when they got married at the First Christian Church in Davenport, their home since 1947.

Boyack taught at schools across Iowa until the couple settled in the town of Davenport. Dubes did administrative work for a local newspaper and then a scrap metal company. Since retirement, the two have traveled to every US state except Alaska, as well as Canada and the UK, where they have close friends.

“That tells about it all. Now we live in a retirement village, and we’ve been here since 1987,” said Dubes, who was more interested in talking about their wedding service (both brides wore warm-hued pastels that complemented their beloved electric scooters) than the long road they took to get to the altar, a day that would mark the first time that their relationship was confirmed in public.

“I think a lot of people knew, but didn’t ever say anything – and we didn’t tell them,” said Dubes. “If they wanted to know about us, that’s their problem.”

In Cedar Falls, both women lived at Dubes’s aunt’s house. “Then I dropped out and went back to the farm,” said Dubes, who continued working in Cedar Falls while Boyack earned her teaching degree.

“We’ve been fine all along the way,” said Dubes. “I suppose we’ve had our ins and outs, but that’s how it goes with any relationship.”

Iowa’s supreme court legalized same-sex marriage in 2009, making it the third US state to do so, and the first in the midwest – an area commonly associated with conservative values in spite of Iowa’s political diversity.

“We haven’t been able to get married until the last few years, so that’s why we’re so old when we’re getting married,” said Dubes.

Their wedding was the first same-sex marriage at First Christian Church, which they have been attending for 66 years.

“The church has always loved these two ladies, and is proud to be able to have Vivian and Nonie get married in a place where they have always been loved and accepted,” said the Reverend Linda Hunsaker, who presided over the ceremony.

The service was particularly meaningful for Hunsaker, because her father grew up with Dubes in the small town of Yale, and she and Dubes have called each other “cousin” since learning about the familial connection.

The wedding prompted a wave of congratulations, as the couple received well wishes by phone and mail. They were overwhelmed by the unexpectedly positive response, as was Hunsaker, who said that no one has responded negatively. The happy couple echoed Hunsaker’s claim.

“The best part of it is all the love we’ve received, in response from all the people,” said Boyack. “It’s all been good.”

While their ability to attend First Christian Church is limited by their health and age, they frequently take their scooters down the retirement center hallways to a church facility.

“The biggest hand in our lives turning out this way is the hand of God,” said Boyack.

The church is part of the Disciples of Christ, a mainstream Protestant denomination that voted last year to allow same-sex marriages to be performed in its churches, though it emphasized that individual churches can decide whether or not to perform such ceremonies.

Hunsaker, who has been in the ministry for 20 years and graduated from high school as the Aids epidemic spread in the United States, said she was amazed by the speed of progress of LGBT rights.

“I’ve done a lot of weddings with some young people, and unfortunately I don’t think all those have lasted – and these two [Boyack and Dubes] are the ones that haven’t been able to have their relationship? They are the model people that we want to be able to lift up.”