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A lifelong musician and photographer, 101-year-old Medford resident Preston Mitchell is the epitome of the saying, “The show must go on.” And it has gone on. For much of his century on Earth, Mitchell has been creating music or beautiful imagery and setting the tone for friends and family who wonder where his endless supply of energy comes from. Having played the tuba since the 1930s, Mitchell only recently started asking for help hauling his tuba onstage. Standing — with a walker — at just under 5’2, Mitchell swims weekly, plays in a slew of local music groups and only stopped driving two years ago. Most recently he entertained friends with his musical skills for Oktoberfest. Born in Homer, Michigan, on Sept. 4, 1917, Mitchell has never known a life without music. Raised by musical parents — his father a pianist and his mother a coloratura soprano — he has played everything from clarinet in junior high and string bass in high school to tuba, recorder and flute as an adult. When he was 2, his family moved to Whittier, California, where he grew up just before the Great Depression in a close-knit, small community. Mitchell’s childhood memories include a horse-drawn wagon that delivered fresh produce and bottles of milk left on the front porch. “We had an ice man and a fish wagon and a vegetable guy with a horse and buggy. Times were definitely a little simpler than now,” he said recently. Meeting his wife, a cellist named Cora, while attending school for music, Mitchell taught for just two years before realizing his calling lay elsewhere. “I got out of college as a music teacher and taught for a couple of years and realized pretty quickly it wasn’t for me,” Mitchell said. He would go on to spend four years in the Army, 1942-1946, with an early finale of sorts for music. “They put us musicians in with the aviation engineers and sent us to Okinawa. Luckily, I got there the day that it was declared secure,” he said. “As soon as they noticed I was just a musician, they said, ‘Well, we guess you can be a bugler or a truck driver,’ so I was both. The cook is supposed to wake the bugler up in the morning — at 5:45 a.m. — and you’re supposed to play first call and then you play the ‘six o’clock assembler’ and 6:15 for chow. Well, me, at 6:14 I stuck my head out of the tent, played first call and chow, and went back to bed!” Following military service, Mitchell returned to school for photography and operated a commercial photography business until retirement — and a return to performing — in 1989. The couple, who raised two daughters, moved to the Rogue Valley Manor after his retirement. “We had a family friend who was one of the first residents here at the Manor in 1961. We visited her and decided this is where we would retire to. My wife didn’t enjoy the smog and traffic and earthquakes in Southern California, so we were happy to get here with closer to a 4 percent possibility of earthquakes instead of an 85 percent chance.” Mitchell’s wife died in 1992. Another quarter-century later, he’s still a busy musician and passionate about photography as he’s embraced computer and digital technology. Daughter Tamara Mitchell, of Rogue River, said she’s never known her dad to be anything other than active and engaging. The pair have traveled around the world together and share a fondness for Thailand. “Dad has always been a go-getter. He’s had to actually slow down a little bit, so now he’s at the same pace as the rest of us and he still wears me out,” Tamara said. “He used to run and ride his bike to work. He and I used to go on backpack and hiking trips all the time. I guess it’s like they say, ‘Use it or lose it.’ I think it’s almost that he just never thought about getting old, so it’s like he didn’t. A lot of people say, ‘I shouldn’t do this or that anymore because I’m too old,’ but I have never heard those words come out of his mouth.” Dean Macinnis, director of Wellness for the Rogue Valley Manor, said Mitchell is a prime example of healthy aging with plenty of cognitive stimulation and physical activity. “My wife has the biggest crush on him,” he joked. “Everyone is just amazed by Preston. He is the prime example of active aging. When I first came to work at the Manor 10 years ago, I was instantly told about Preston and I was amazed and that was 10 years ago. The man is incredible and he cannot be stopped. At 98, he was still loading his tuba up and driving himself to practice.” Mitchell admits he never envisioned playing his tuba at 101, but always figured he’d like to at 103. “I still enjoy playing it, it’s just gotten a little heavier over the years so now I have people carry it around for me. I’ll play it as long as they want me to,” he said. Since buying his first sousaphone in 1936, it’s just been lots of photos, memories and musical gigs. “People are a little surprised when I say I’m one hundred and one,” he said. “But I’m pretty surprised by it, too, so that’s alright.” Reach freelance writer Buffy Pollock at [email protected].