Alan Zaben’s death is not news, but his life is

Each day, journalists are assigned the grim task of reporting someone’s death. Someone famous. Someone infamous. Someone unknown. Someone accomplished. Someone just like us. Someone not like us at all.

Perhaps it was a car accident. A lingering illness. A natural disaster. A sudden shock. A gunshot. A hidden malady. A fall. A war. Fire. Water. Surgical complications. Drug overdose. Suicide. It goes on and on.

Each time, the news article includes an explanation.

There must be an explanation. Because when a death is reported, the very first question readers want answered is: How did he die?

But … it’s the wrong question.

I know this because I recently was informed of the passing of Alan Zaben. The most meaningless information about a person like Zaben is how he died.

The news, the real news, is how he lived.

I met him by way of a note Zaben sent to me in early 2015. He said that as a longtime reader of the newspaper, he was aware of how a person in my position had to immerse himself in the often divisive and depressing events of the day. He wrote to me to offer “a good counterpoint.”

He said, in part: “Last Saturday, my wife and I went out to dinner at a local restaurant. I was wearing my usual tshirt which proclaims ‘I’m a 3 time cancer survivor.’ While we were eating a woman approached our table, said ‘God bless you’ and left a note on the table. The note read that she had lost her sister to cancer in December, wished us good luck in our journey and that she wanted to pay for our dinner.”

The woman who purchased the meal chose to do so anonymously, not introducing herself to Zaben or his wife. He thought if I wrote about the incident, the woman might see it, giving him a chance to say thank you, while the rest of us would be reminded that the world, for all its troubles is actually a pretty great place.

“And that’s coming from a guy who has taken on cancer for 28 years, now,” Zaben told me, “and who has come to appreciate every one of those days. Really appreciate them. Really enjoy them. And not waste any of them.”

I wrote the article.

As it turns out, the woman who purchased Zaben’s meal read it. At least, I believe so. After the column about Zaben was printed, there was a message about Zaben on my answering machine. The female voice said, “I didn’t give him a gift. He gave me a gift.”

Zaben did that a lot.

He was a retired computer programmer and a tireless volunteer for the American Cancer Society. He made speeches. He counseled patients. He raised money by way of the annual Chandler Relay for Life.

Brittany Conklin of the ACS told me, “To the very end, he was advocating for people with cancer. Working with the society, I constantly meet patients and survivors who inspire me. But Alan was in a class by himself when it came to giving back and inspiring others. He would often challenge cancer to bring its worst, saying, ‘I am David and you’re Goliath.’ There is no doubt his passing has left a hole for his family, friends, and those he inspired and helped at the Society. … But I know he would want me to remind you of the advice he gave you two years ago.”

Zaben did not frame what he said to me as “advice,” exactly.

He didn’t need to do so.

He simply described how he chose to carry on while dealing with several types of cancer and undergoing chemotherapy.

“I walk with two canes and carry a portable oxygen tank,” he said. “But I still say that cancer is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I don’t sweat the small stuff. And everything but your health ... is small stuff.”

We all know that inherently, but we ignore it. It can be helpful, every now and again, to come across someone who lives it. Like Alan Zaben.

“I was probably like everyone else before I got that first diagnosis,” he said. “But I probably have the most positive mental attitude of anyone who has been diagnosed with cancer. I think that is half the battle. The other half is what the doctors and nurses can do for me. The positive mental attitude is what I can do for myself. I’ll just enjoy life as it comes and face my destiny with my head held high.”