Getting Old and Getting Out
In New York City
byHerb Bardavid
This is Lenny
I was walking on West End Avenue, between 63rd. and 64th. street when I saw him: an older man moving steadily toward me behind a metal walker, a baseball cap pulled low over his brow. Across the front of the cap, in big white block letters, it said: BRONX.
"I like your hat," I told him. "Can I take your picture?"
He looked at me for a moment, then nodded. " Sure," His name is Lenny.
Lenny is 83 years old. He was born in the Bronx, raised in the Bronx, went to school in the Bronx, and, as he put it, will probably die in the Bronx.
He was married for 53 years. His wife died five years ago. When he mentioned her, his voice softened a bit. "We had a good run." He has two sons and three grandchildren. The kids live in Connecticut and upstate New York now, but they are still close to him. "They come down, I go up," he said. "We make it work."
He retired from the Internal Revenue Service 23 years ago. For decades, he worked as a Revenue Officer in the Collection Division. He was the one who showed up when businesses didn't answer letters or return calls about unpaid taxes.
People think we're the bad guys," he said. "I never saw it that way. Somebody's gotta make sure everyone plays by the rules. Otherwise, nothing works."
He told me he liked the challenge of the hard cases - the businesses that wouldn't respond, the people who were angry or scared. "You learn to listen," he said. "You learn when to push and when to back off. And sometimes you give someone a little room, and they cooperate.'
At first, retirement was rough for Lenny. All of that free time was a little difficult for him. No schedule, no people waiting on you. He said living in New York City is what kept him from the loneliness of retirement. He always loved New York. He still likes to walk the streets of the Bronx, even if it is a bit slower with a walker.
"The thing is, the slower you walk, the more invisible you become. People look right through you. It used to be that I'd walk into a room, and someone would do something to me. Now half the time they don't even see me." However, Lenny refuses to stay inside. He gets out every day, even in bad weather.
He has been a serious cyclist his whole life. As a young man, he rode long distances - out of the city, across counties. He still rides, mostly on Rails-to-Trails, where the road is flat, and there are no cars. He has trouble walking, but not riding. Although he said he is thinking about a "pedal assist" bike.
Lenny looked at my camera and told me that he had a darkroom many years ago, in the days before digital cameras were invented.
Lenny has never lived anywhere else but the Bronx. He grew up near Yankee Stadium. And was an avid Yankees fan. He said he and his friend would sometimes sneak into the stadium, or just stand outside and listen to the crowd and a portable radio. He rattled off the names of his heroes, Yogi Berra, Hank Bauer, and, of course, Mickey Mantle. Now he lives in Riverdale, a quieter corner of the Bronx.
Lenny came to Manhattan today to visit a lifelong friend, bedridden with Alzheimer's disease. "We've known each other since we were kids." "He doesn't always know who I am anymore, but I know who he is."
I asked him how he felt about getting old in New York City. He said he is lucky. "I had a good marriage, I have my kids, my grandkids, and I still have friends. I love living in New York; I am not alone. I am getting old, but I won't stop getting out."