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Given Five Extra Years to Live, New Yorkers Look for
the Catch
By Michael Brick, New York Times
April 27, 2003
Lenny Speregen, 43, questioned in
a deli, makes the most of his time underwater. Let's play a game. Because a dim light warmed us yesterday, and we could go outdoors without a jacket, and because we are younger than we were last week, let's play. The city told us we have time. Compared with New Yorkers just one decade ago, we have 6.8 more years if we are boys and 3.2 more years if we are girls, the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene said this week in a study of life expectancy rates. So call it five years, and let's pretend we can follow our whims. It is found time. It is not the free time that money can buy, or the five years the doctor gives someone with an unspeakable disease. Just extra time. Let's decide what to do with it. This being New York, though, an examination of this sudden temporal windfall is expected. It all sounds a little suspicious. "What am I, old, though?" asked Howard Grandison, who spent part of yesterday afternoon lounging on the concrete steps in Union Square. He wanted to clarify the specific terms. He wanted to know the rules of the game. It's only fair. That point was amplified by Ralf Itzwerth, from Sydney, Australia, who was visiting New York for the first time, staring down from the observation deck of the Empire State Building at the tiny-looking people with the five extra years. "Just living long doesn't mean that you're happy," Mr. Itzwerth said. "You might limp through life on one leg. You might live two years longer on your respirator with your lung cancer." This whole five-extra-years business will cause other problems, too, said Sean Keenan, 32, a firefighter, who was standing in front of a firehouse on West 37th Street. "Try to collect Social Security," Firefighter Keenan said. "I'm sure I'll be working." Time out. This game cannot get started until New Yorkers accept that they have five extra years, and dream. Let's just think about five good years. We could marry. Or divorce. We could spend it underwater (more about that in a moment). We could travel, or just while away the afternoon sitting on a fire-hose connector on 17th Street clutching a cigarette. That is what a man who gave his name as Bob Jones — and who was kind enough to mention that "Bob Jones" is also the name of a university, as if to signal that he was giving a fake name — was doing yesterday. He did not have trouble finding a reserve of gratitude for five extra years. "I'm going to tell you what I'm going to say: Thank God," said Bob Jones, if that is his real name. "What would I do with it? Keep on praying, keep on praying, keep on praying. All right. I came a long way." Philip Chadwick, a graphic designer who was reading the newspaper in Union Square, said: "When it's time to go, it's time to go. But I don't think anyone would turn it down." But those are heavy thoughts. And that is not the point of this game. With all the stress and worry and fussing, it seems as if New Yorkers ought to be dying younger every day, not having their life expectancies extended. So let's play. Lenny Speregen, 43, a commercial diver who lives in Brooklyn, bought a glass of carrot juice in Midtown yesterday, not so much because it might help him live longer but because it might help him see more clearly when he is down in the depths of the Hudson River. You have five extra years, Mr. Speregen. Whatever will you do? "Hopefully spend it underwater," Mr. Speregen said, describing how when he's submerged, the only person he worries about is whoever is on the boat or shore monitoring his equipment. "It's the most stress-free environment," he added. You have five years, David Mark Patterson. Yesterday you were in Union Square, where you read a book. What will you do with your five extra years? "I am going to spend five more years wandering the streets looking for nuances and intricacies to turn into tangible data —— " Mr. Patterson said. He was apparently starting a joke, making fun of the statisticians who tell New Yorkers how long they will live, but he was interrupted, and implored to play the game. "I would go around town doing guerrilla sculptures," he said. Fine. And Bryan D. Johnson will relax. Coleen Bradley will write to express herself artistically instead of writing to please her bosses and make money. Ron Cohen will retire and ride his mountain bike. Sean Ross will drink heavily, unless he was kidding. And Robert Presti, 38, the owner of Simply Natural, a juice and vitamin supplement shop, will move more slowly and deliberately. "With that extra five years, all the stresses New Yorkers are under to do things quickly, we'll be able to take it slow," Mr. Presti said. "At least as slow as the rest of the country takes it. It'll all come out in the wash eventually." What game should we play next? We have some extra time left. Copyright
© 2002 Global Action on Aging |
