SUSAN SWARTZ

At his birthday party Peter Cooper greeted guests with the
declaration, “80 is the new 79.” Then he smiled mischievously, led
you to the bar and out to his mountain view.
At her birthday party Alice Waco asked for suggestions on what
new challenges she might take on in her next decade, this also
being Alice’s 80th. Most agreed it would be something extraordinary
and not found on most senior activity listings.
Having friends turn oh-my-God 80 when you’re in your 60s
probably isn’t that much of a surprise. But it does make one ask,
how did this cool person make it so well to 80?
And I guess the answer is practice.
Peter and Alice don’t know each other but with their birthday
parties on the same weekend it gave me a chance to consider what is
it about aging that works better for some people than others. I’ve
known both of them since they were in high middle age and they’ve
always had a busy house full of friends and family. Both have quick
minds and a sense of humor, get outraged about injustice, care
passionately about the world and are people you hope to sit next to
at a dinner party.
They both also might credit vibrant marriages for keeping their
sizzle. Alice’s husband Bill was killed in a bicycling accident
seven years ago when he was 79. Before that they were always “Bill
and Alice, Alice and Bill,” and if you were describing them, you’d
have to add that she used to be a nun and he used to be a priest
and so, of course, they were made for each other.
Peter is married to Robin and when you ask her, “How’s Peter?”
her first response is almost always, “He’s wonderful.”
You could tell you’d arrived at Alice’s party by the bumper
stickers. Alice spent years leading the Sonoma County Peace and
Justice Center. When she was a teacher, she led the biggest strike
in Santa Rosa history. If there’s a demonstration or vigil against
war Alice is there with a candle, a sign and if need be, waiting to
be arrested. Not all of her friends lean to the left. At her party
an attorney introduced himself as probably the only Republican in
the room and everyone applauded.
Peter was a TV guy in New York who traveled the world producing
peanut butter and beer commercials. He and Robin regularly return
to New York to go to plays, stay up late and visit his childhood
buddy, director Mike Nichols.
But when Peter retired he didn’t stop, he simply changed coasts.
He got involved in community theater as an actor and director, took
writing classes at the junior college, held folk music concerts at
his house, raised dogs, became a Californian.
Peter looks like a theater person. At one of his openings he
stood on the sidewalk in black turtleneck and tiny earring,
chatting up theater goers. He was likely hurting that night. His
body is pretty beat up, from surgeries and a couple of car
accidents, but he doesn’t talk much about that. The only time you
realize he’s slowing down is when he plants himself in a good spot
– at his party on the deck looking to Mount St. Helena – and
instead of working the room lets the room come to him.
The week before his party Peter had finished a month’s run in
the cast Stalag 17, playing the commandant. A guest told him she
saw the play and he’d given her the creeps. He said, “Thank
you.”
At her party Alice talked about the Parkinson’s she is now
integrating into her life. Then she announced she’d be gone for a
while, heading up to the prison in Susanville to put on some
non-violence training.
Susan Swartz is an author and journalist in Sebastopol. You
can also read her at www.juicytomatoes.com and hear her Another
Voice commentary on KRCB-FM radio on Fridays. Email is
su***@ju***********.com