If you are lucky enough to make it to the age of 103, it’s likely a lot of people will have special memories about you. When I heard the news that Alton “Al” Cheney had died, some of those moments popped into my head. If you ever met Al, you’d remember him. He’s that kind of guy. I don’t think he ever thought or said “I’m too old to do that.” I’m guessing that’s one of the many reasons he made it into the centenarian club. He retired and then went back to school to become an elder law attorney at 62, spending another two decades working with seniors who needed legal help. He continued to stay busy after retiring a second time, logging over 2,500 volunteer hours at the Prescott VA, and was an active member of the Sunrise Lions Club.
I met him in 2018 when I started working at Good Samaritan Hospice. By then, Al had been a hospice volunteer for seven years, walking over each week from the Village Casitas to help with bereavement mailings or whatever task needed to be done.
At the spry age of 99, he was still driving a silver minivan. Legend had it he had bought the van at the age of 95 after the local transit system stopped running the routes he needed to get around town. He was known for giving rides to the grocery store to some of the other Village residents. I would see it parked in the handicapped spot at work on the days he volunteered. There were some mysterious dents and scratches on the passenger side that made me wonder if a few mailboxes had met their demise during these road trips.
We had a surprise party for his 99th birthday during a volunteer meeting and honored him for his service in the Army Air Corps during World War II. He shared how he met his beloved wife Lee, who was a WAC in the Army Signal Corps, when he was in the hospital after a motorcycle accident.
Al walked slowly to his car after the party, a cane in each hand, with me following behind, two foil balloons bobbing in the air. I watched him toss his canes on the passenger seat then slowly climb into the driver’s seat, lifting one leg in, and then the other. I had some quick thoughts about whether he should still be on the road. He must have read my mind. “I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t seen this,” he said, his blue eyes crinkling as he smiled. I nodded. “I drive like the cops are behind me,” he said, chuckling. I told him I’d walk the foil balloons over to his house later. I didn’t want anything to distract him on that short ride home.
Al turned 100 during the COVID-19 pandemic, so we celebrated by covering the lawn in front of his casita with miniature American flags and having a cherry-pie party outside in the fresh air. The pandemic ended his hospice volunteering, and his sons finally convinced him to hang up the van keys for good. In the three years that followed, life got a little tougher, so he moved from his townhome into the nearby Village apartments so it would be easier to get around. I would see him zipping around the hallways on his scooter chair, almost always the first one to arrive for lunch or a party going on in the dining room.
I happened to be filling in at the apartment office on his 102nd birthday. He rolled down to say hello wearing a big badge on his shirt proclaiming the special milestone. I saw him a few more times over the year. On one visit, I thought I smelled smoke and hustled down the hallway looking for the source. I traced it to his apartment and found him eating slightly scorched eggs. “I was on the phone and forgot,” he said, laughing a little as I sighed with relief.
He was charming and kind until the very end. He decided to move to Flagstaff to live near his sons, so I stopped in at his going-away party to say goodbye. He was surrounded by friends from Willow Wind, the Sunrise Lions, his sons and his great-granddaughter. Everyone was eating chocolate chip cookies and drinking root beer (Al’s favorite) while telling stories about the guest of honor. He was wearing his favorite straw hat and smiling as we all shared how much we’d miss him and wished him a safe trip. We didn’t know he was leaving us for an even bigger journey just a few days later. But I do not doubt if there are jobs to volunteer for in Heaven, Al’s already wearing an official name badge and helping the Big Guy out.
Prescott-area resident Kelly Paradis is a community liaison for Good Samaritan Home Health, Hospice & Marley House. She loves listening to and writing stories about life.