A Love That Turned Difference Into Intimacy

John Klein And Mary Ann Allen enjoy a quiet breakfast at The Coffee Mill, a cafe in Oakland, Calif. i i

John Klein And Mary Ann Allen enjoy a quiet breakfast at The Coffee Mill, a cafe in Oakland, Calif.

John Klein hide caption

itoggle caption John Klein
John Klein And Mary Ann Allen enjoy a quiet breakfast at The Coffee Mill, a cafe in Oakland, Calif.

John Klein And Mary Ann Allen enjoy a quiet breakfast at The Coffee Mill, a cafe in Oakland, Calif.

John Klein

As love stories go, Mary Ann Allen and John Klein's relationship started in an unusual place. And they were something of an unusual couple, too. But as it turned out, none of that meant a thing.

Klein recently sat down with Mary Ann's daughter, Bernice Flournoy, to explain.

"Tell us how you met Mom," Flournoy says.

"I had a temporary position at a senior citizen facility in downtown Oakland," Klein says. "Mary moved in there."

Allen, who was 59 years old when she met Klein, had diabetes.

John Klein, 60, and Bernice Flournoy, 60, visited StoryCorps in Oakland, Calif. i i

John Klein, 60, and Bernice Flournoy, 60, visited StoryCorps in Oakland, Calif.

StoryCorps hide caption

itoggle caption StoryCorps
John Klein, 60, and Bernice Flournoy, 60, visited StoryCorps in Oakland, Calif.

John Klein, 60, and Bernice Flournoy, 60, visited StoryCorps in Oakland, Calif.

StoryCorps

"I was managing the maintenance department, and she needed a couple of things done," Klein says. "So I went up there and adjusted the toilet, and made sure the doors opened and closed."

"She had just lost her left foot, but despite her health situation, she really liked to go out and do stuff," he says. "So I said, 'Would you like to go out for a walk sometime?' "

Allen said yes — and the two headed out together.

"She was in a wheelchair, so I pushed her down the street," Klein says. "And we just sat there, and looked over Lake Merritt, for an hour or so, just talking.

"And somewhere along the line, we just fell in love with each other. And you know, if you see us coming down the street — certainly didn't make any sense. I'm 17 years her junior, and she is black and I'm white."

"And?" Flournoy asks.

"And that didn't matter to her, or me," Klein says.

"No, it didn't," Flournoy says.

"And I'm not certain how much it mattered to others, but I think that it did."

"It didn't matter to me. She loved you a lot," Flournoy says.

"I know she did," Klein says. "She was my dear companion for 13 years."

Allen was 72 when she died from liver complications.

"And during the time that I wasn't there for her — because I was into drugs and alcohol — she needed somebody," Flournoy says. "And you were there. And I have to really thank you for that."

"I don't regret a second of it and I would, you know — of course — do it all over again," says Klein, 60.

"When she passed away, my love for her just blew up and got more strong," he says. "She is the love of my life. I didn't realize this deep of love was possible."

Audio produced for Morning Edition by Nadia Reiman.

Comments

 

Please keep your community civil. All comments must follow the NPR.org Community rules and terms of use, and will be moderated prior to posting. NPR reserves the right to use the comments we receive, in whole or in part, and to use the commenter's name and location, in any medium. See also the Terms of Use, Privacy Policy and Community FAQ.