Unfortunately, the Poles don’t allow just anyone to command their glass-bottom boats, and as a Jew he was told to find another career, so he became a zoologist and later earned a doctorate in chemistry.
When the Germans invaded he fled to Soviet-controlled territory, was then shipped off to a labor camp after he refused to accept Soviet nationality, was later freed as the Nazis advanced, and he and his wife settled in Uzbekistan. Eventually, they made it to the U.S. in 1951, and Mr. Imich has been here ever since.
In an interview with the New York Times last week he credited his long life to good genes, the fact that he eats only tiny meals, never drinks alcohol and never had kids.
If that’s the price of longevity, you can have it. I’ll aim for quality over quantity.
Eating entire pizzas, chugging Jägermeister like water and watching with mixed terror and joy as my stupid kids stumble from one milestone to another is precisely what makes life worth living.
In a few decades when I finally kick the bucket I fully expect this husk to be completely and utterly wrecked, and I can’t see the logic of doing it any other way.