How They Met: 2021 Edition

Tim Kearney and Claudia Cueto

Tim met Claudia in the summer of ’79 at orientation for new students in the school of architecture at Catholic University in Washington, D.C. Claudia met Tim sometime in 1982 (despite having been in multiple classes with him over the years). Apparently, Tim wasn’t much to look at. They were friends in college but did not spend much time together until a year or so after graduation, when they happened to move into the same apartment building near the zoo in D.C. They were both working for architecture firms located in Georgetown and started commuting together, often biking down Rock Creek Park to work. 

A key moment in their nascent relationship occurred one snowy evening. Claudia parked her car behind the apartment building and could see the light on in Tim’s apartment. So she called him from the payphone at the gas station, and they wound up walking through the snow up to the Bishop’s Garden at the National Cathedral. It turned out to be a memorable evening. 

The summer of ‘86 brought a change. Tim moved to Philadelphia for grad school, and Amtrak became central to their relationship. At a New Year’s Eve party in D.C., Claudia lined up several of their friends and demanded to know why Tim hadn’t asked her to marry him. Tim, it turns out, already had the ring in his pocket. On New Year’s Day, on the way to a Cueto family event in Virginia, Tim made an unscheduled stop at the Jefferson Memorial. And there, under the gaze of our only architect president, along with a busload of Japanese tourists, Tim gave Claudia a box. Inside the box was a plastic piano that played “You Light Up my Life” when the lid was raised. Inside the piano was the engagement ring. She said yes. 

Things started progressing. Claudia applied and was accepted to grad school at the University of Pennsylvania. She joined Tim in Philly that spring, and they have been in Philly or Delco ever since. They were married on June 4, 1988, in McLean, Virginia, and, since they didn’t really own anything, managed to spend six weeks on their honeymoon in Italy, Yugoslavia, and Greece. Eventually Lucia and Sebastian came along. The family moved to Swarthmore in 1995.

Beth Camagna and Kevin Cunningham

I met my future roommate around Valentine’s Day 1985. I’ll never forget that moment when I first saw her. We both worked at the Merion Art and Repro Center (“Where Creativity Begins”) in Ardmore. She was fresh out of art school, and I was a hard working hippie/musician. 

We lived together in Swarthmore for a while and got married in 1992. We bought a house in Rutledge in 1993 and the rest, as they say, is history. Our daughter Maddy is in her third year of med school at Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine, and our son Aidan is a junior at the Tyler School of Art at Temple (what a surprise). Beth teaches and works with kids, and I am still working at Merion Art (“For All Your Art and Drafting Needs”) in Ardmore.  

I have also been the mayor of Rutledge, the greatest town in Delco, for the last eight years. To say I’m the luckiest man in the world, other than Ringo, is an understatement, and I owe it all to my wife and best friend Beth. There isn’t a day that goes by where we don’t laugh and hug. I think that’s the secret. Oh yeah, and she still looks like she’s 25. 

– Kevin Cunningham

Penelope Reed and Zoran Kovcic

In 1981, Penelope and her two young sons were living in Milwaukee, in an Alverno College faculty apartment below five nuns. She was completing her term as chair of the drama department and preparing for her summer theater’s final show. After that, she would leave for Princeton’s McCarter Theatre, closer to family on the East Coast. 

Meanwhile, Zoran, a real estate broker, was working temporarily as a bar manager at the Red Baron Lounge while waiting for mortgage rates to improve. 

One evening, Zoran and the lounge singer’s best friend Kathy learned that they both subscribed to the Milwaukee Repertory Theatre. Zoran told Kathy that he hadn’t seen Milwaukee Rep actor Penelope Reed onstage for a while, and that he missed her. He had treasured watching her in all her various roles. 

“I know Penny Reed,” Kathy said. “Would you like to take her out?”  

“My blood froze,” Zoran recalls. “I was just a Southside bartender, and Penelope was a popular actress of note. But I did the bravest thing I’ve ever done. I said, ‘Yes.’”

Hearing that “Yes,” both Kathy and the mother of one of Penelope’s students began matchmaking. Hoping to persuade Penelope to stay in Milwaukee, the mother demanded, “What have you always wanted? A man!” She handed Penelope a list of Zoran’s qualities: builder, Army reservist, property owner. 

Penelope wasn’t so sure a man was what she’d always wanted, but she gave in and agreed that Zoran could call her. 

Both Zoran and Penelope remember the call: “her wonderfully soft, warm voice”; “his strength and authenticity.” The date was arranged.

They met for a Thursday lunch. For Penelope, it was a kind of audition. Zoran saw an opportunity to make a personal connection. As they stood on the college steps, their eyes met. Penelope thought: “His smile is radiant! He could be my friend.” 

“She glowed,” Zoran recalls.

Enchanted, they went off to the Yum Yum restaurant, where they shared a three-hour Chinese feast. They talked about theater, art, history, great leaders, and children. When Zoran opened his wallet to reveal pictures of his sister’s children and a card with the Lord’s prayer, Penelope realized he was a man of both family and faith. He told her how, when he was two, his Serbian family had emigrated from a German displaced persons camp in search of the American dream. Penelope’s tales were of generations of Yankees, theater people on her father’s side and business people on her mother’s. But when she confided that her mother’s mother called Penelope a “kook,” he stopped her, shocked.

“You’re not a kook!” he objected. “You’re an original.”  

Appreciated and understood, Penelope was smitten. 

When they parted, they scheduled their next date. Zoran called his sister Bee and said, “Well, there’s no doubt in my mind this is who I’m going to marry.” Penelope skipped up the college steps to tell Sister Austin, the dean of the faculty, that Zoran had won her heart.

But what would her boys think? 

They decided to take things slow. Penelope would move to Princeton as planned. Zoran would visit. But son Jared, scouting for good male role models, latched onto Zoran right away. And after son Evan found he couldn’t frighten Zoran away, he became devoted to the new man in their lives. Zoran found a book counseling against rushing the kids into a new relationship — but the boys had already started calling him “Dad.” 

Six months later, Penelope’s cherished nun colleagues, the couple’s many friends, and, most importantly, their families, celebrated a magnificent Serbian Orthodox wedding. Their new nuclear family left for Princeton together, and every day since has been a day of rejoicing.

Heidi and Drew Sentivan

Heidi and Drew Sentivan were born a few weeks apart in the same New Jersey hospital. At Heidi’s birth, the doctor and Heidi’s dad were busy discussing sports cars, a longtime passion of her father’s. Heidi’s mom interjected to point out that she was, in fact, having a baby, and Heidi arrived minutes later. 

Drew and Heidi grew up in neighboring communities, probably passing each other in strollers, although they did not officially meet until after college. Heidi’s dad’s love of sports cars continued, and he became an active member of the Northern New Jersey Porsche Club, often driving on various racetracks. Meanwhile, Drew grew up with a father who also loved driving cars, often buying and selling interesting ones. Drew’s dad joined the Porsche club around the same time as Heidi’s dad, and he too enjoyed driving on the track. Both fathers shared their love of cars with their kids, teaching them to drive a stick shift and instilling in them the importance of proper driving technique.

Fast-forward to the late nineties. Both Heidi and Drew decided to join their dads for a long weekend at Watkins Glen in upstate New York to enjoy some fast driving on a favorite track. Besides driving, the highlight of the weekend would be a big barbecue. That year, the barbecue featured trashcan turkeys (turkeys roasted in metal trash cans). 

While Heidi was standing in line for food at the barbecue, a friendly woman turned around and started chatting. After a couple of minutes, she suggested that Heidi should meet her son Drew, because she thought they would have a lot in common. It was an awkward introduction. The next day, Drew and Heidi ran into each other again and had a nice chat, but they left without exchanging contact information. 

A couple of weeks later, Drew happened to have a job interview in Philly, where Heidi was living at the time. He bravely emailed Heidi’s dad and asked for her contact info. After Heidi’s dad checked that it would be okay with her, he forwarded it on. Drew came down to Philly for his interview, and the two met up afterwards for dinner. He didn’t get the job, but he kept visiting Philly anyway. By the third date, Heidi was sure he was the one. Eventually, Drew moved down to Philly and into Heidi’s tiny, one-person apartment. 

A year or so later, they started looking for a place to settle down. Heidi’s coworker, Claudia Cueto, who lived in Swarthmore, suggested that they head out in that direction. The couple found a lovely Victorian in Rutledge that needed lots of love and turned their attention to fixing up their home. 

Now, 21 years later, they are still there, having added two children and three cats. Neither Heidi nor Drew has driven on a racetrack in a while, but they can be seen out and about on a sunny day in their vintage 912 Porsche.