PRESQUE ISLE, Maine — Decades of fads slipped by him.
1950s teens had a burning love for Rock ‘n Roll. Hippies preached love during the ‘60s and disco music topped the charts in the ‘70s.
William (Bill) McConnell lived quietly alongside it all.
“I don’t think I ever got past the swing era.”
With his musical tastes stuck in the swing, or big band, era of the late ‘30s and ‘40s, you won’t catch him listening to modern hits.
“I can’t stand anything that passes for music now, rap and all that.”
Born in 1916, Bill hit a milestone last Tuesday.
Friends and family gathered at Leisure Village in Presque Isle to celebrate his 100th birthday.
“That’s a goal for me to shoot for,” his 91-year-old brother, Jim, said of Bill’s century-long life.
With three cakes, cards and a neatly wrapped gift tied with a bow, the party was more than Bill is accustom to.
“It’s overwhelming,” he said as the chatter of party guests continued to rise, “I can’t remember that anything was made of birthdays (growing up).”
“That was before the era of exchanging cards.”
Bill does recall a birthday party that offered a rare treat, store-bought cookies.
“That stays in mind as the earliest birthday I can remember and it wasn’t mine. It was someone else’s.”
He still has memories of growing up in Portage Lake, when he was introduced to the North Woods by his father, a Maine guide who took him fishing and hunting.
“That’s what we did. I don’t know how much interest I had in it,” he said, “I was more inclined to sit somewhere by myself with a book.”
It wasn’t fictional tales that caught his interest, nonfiction stories were what Bill hungered to read.
“I wanted to know more.”
Later, he began to write his own stories.
Bill’s nonfiction book, “Notes from the Packbasket, A Woodstove Autobiography”, details his childhood through high school years.
He has been urged to write more.
“I haven’t any incentive to be an author or have my thoughts in print.”
Martie Pritchard runs the writing group Bill takes part in at the retirement home. She says the group is intrigued by Bill’s writing style, calling it unique and introspective.
“Although we’d love to hear more,” she says they respect his boundaries.
But 100 years is a long time to reflect on.
“It’s confusing in my mind. I don’t know how it works chronologically.”
For now, the group enjoys the excerpts Bill shares from his novel.
Martie says Bill is still polishing his past work.
“It is something to do. I don’t like to sit idly and contemplate my navel.”
Bill has always kept busy.
Early on, it was working in the woods. He worked for the lumber industry and chopped his own wood for heating.
In 1948 he came to Presque Isle after spending time working in wartime production in Massachusetts.
Wrapped up in his community, life was different then Bill says.
“The older you get the more you’re bombarded with what’s going on in the world. When early on, your interest was only in what was going on with your family or your small town and that was it,” he said, “As a child, I can’t recall that there was ever any interest in world affairs or even national affairs. You were so occupied in your daily life that it sufficed you.”
Now, in his 100th year, Bill spends his days reading and cooking his own meals.
Bill is the driving force of the skip bo club. He prepares coffee and desserts for the club in which he is the only male.
“I enjoy the company of women more than men,” he says.
Celebrations for Bill continued throughout the week.
Students from Cornerstone Christian Academy took part in the birthday festivities by sharing stories they’d written.
To Martie’s surprise the man she knew as shy and reserved, asked to speak during the party.
He thanked those who came out and gifted them with a song.
Bill began to sing the folk song “Waltzing with Bears.”
“As Bill broke into song, as he built momentum his voice got stronger.”
When Bill was young, nothing was made of birthdays. But at 100, the week was filled with cakes, parties and song.
Now Bill will go back to his quiet lifestyle.
“I’m not gonna live another 100 years,” Bill says as a quote from Irish playwright, George Bernard Shaw comes to his mind.
“Don’t not try to live forever, you will not succeed.”
