“It is with a bit of sadness that I feel the time has come for me to leave Central Market,” he typed out. “I have had 15 happy and enjoyable years . . .”

Chuck Elvig is 91. Time to call it quits. What did you think, that he was going to write out the letter longhand? Everybody’s on the computer these days.

For those 15 years, Elvig had been a courtesy clerk at the Mill Creek store, or what used to be called a grocery bagger.

Before that, he had been a pharmacist for 37 years. Obviously, he’s a guy who likes to keep busy.

He’s also someone who has figured out what makes him happy. It’s kind of simple, really.

No need for him to seek approval from how many times one of his tweets was retweeted. He doesn’t have a Twitter account.

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No need to count how many thumbs up one of his Facebook postings had. Neither he nor his wife of 57 years, June Elvig, 87, have an account with the Mark Zuckerberg empire.

“He loves being with people, being around people. He’s not a committeeman, and not one to sit around and watch TV all the time,” says his wife.

Elvig was the guy at the store with the ready smile, who inevitably remembered your first name. Kids now in high school would remember him from when they were little.

Chuck Elvig visits with customers Susan and Steve Beatty after bagging their groceries. Elvig, who lives close by, told customers “I’m retiring but I’m not leaving.” (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times)
Chuck Elvig visits with customers Susan and Steve Beatty after bagging their groceries. Elvig, who lives close by, told customers “I’m retiring but I’m not leaving.” (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times)

Elvig didn’t have to work at the grocery, which is part of a local chain of six supermarkets owned by Town & Country Markets.

He started out at “$9-something an hour” as a courtesy clerk, and retired on Thursday at “I think $12.80 an hour.”

He and his wife, June, had done OK when they sold the family pharmacy in Brainerd, Minnesota, and from investments in stock and bonds, and from when they sold their 45-acre hobby farm for real estate development.

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They moved to the Northwest in 2000 because their three grown children live here.

For a while, the couple kept busy fixing up a house they bought in South Everett, especially the yard because they like to garden.

Then, in 2004, Elvig saw a notice at the North Creek Presbyterian Church they attend. Elvig doesn’t mind at all telling folks that “God has continually blessed me.”

“There was a job fair about the store coming to town,” he says. “I thought, well, I’ll go down and see what’s going on. I talked to different people and they hired me. They never said one thing about my age.”

Back in 2004, Elvig would have been 76.

Elvig worked five days a week to start off, then after a while went to four days a week, and went to three days in the last couple of years. He wanted to have weekends off for church, and for the socials he and June hosted after services.

His work ritual was set. In the mornings, put together a lunch from dinner leftovers, maybe some boiled eggs, or cheese sticks, a slice of homemade pie.

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June would drive him the three minutes to work from their condo. Then he’d climb the 20 steep steps to the employee lounge. Including breaks, that would be going up and down the steps five times day.

No problem.

“Keep moving and do things,” says Elvig. Keep moving.

Chuck Elvig gets a mug showing himself with customers. “I’ve made so many wonderful friends here. I don’t know their last names but I know their first names,” he said. (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times)
Chuck Elvig gets a mug showing himself with customers. “I’ve made so many wonderful friends here. I don’t know their last names but I know their first names,” he said. (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times)

He had hip-replacement surgery 10 years ago. He was out from work for three months. Others might take a longer break.

But, says his wife, it was back to the supermarket. “That’s what makes him happy,” she says.

Because of his age, it was inevitable that as a courtesy clerk, Elvig would take groceries out to the car for customers considerably younger and with no obvious impairments.

He never said it, but, says Elvig, “Gosh, you wonder: No wonder you’re falling apart. You’re not doing anything.”

What a customer such as Lenita Firth remembers is that he was always cheerful, always friendly, always asking, “How are you today?”

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So on Thursday, when the store had cake and a celebration for Elvig, she made sure to make it, and hug Elvig.

Chuck Elvig, right, gets a hug from longtime customer Lenita Firth. “He’s just a sweetheart,” she said. (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times)
Chuck Elvig, right, gets a hug from longtime customer Lenita Firth. “He’s just a sweetheart,” she said. (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times)

There was a constant stream of customers, with a Facebook posting about his retirement celebration getting 167 thumbs up or hearts.

Pretty soon, says Elvig, he plans to visit an animal shelter and volunteer. He always has wanted to be veterinarian, but the family pharmacy started by his dad took precedence.

He and his wife also plan to get on Facebook. He certainly has the “likes” optimization stuff figured out.

Wearing a sash that proclaims his retirement, and turning 91, Chuck Elvig descends the stairs from the Mill Creek store’s breakroom Thursday, for one of the last time. (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times)
Wearing a sash that proclaims his retirement, and turning 91, Chuck Elvig descends the stairs from the Mill Creek store’s breakroom Thursday, for one of the last time. (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times)