Mildred Irene MacDonald, 92

Mildred Irene (Guthrie) MacDonald, 92, passed away at Boundary Community Hospital in Bonners Ferry, Idaho, on Feb. 1, 2014.

Funeral services will be at 11 a.m. Feb. 6 at Bonners Ferry Funeral Home with internment to follow at Paradise Valley Cemetery.

She was born on Nov. 13, 1921, in her grandmother Iva Olds’ home just south of Bonners Ferry. Mildred is survived by two brothers, Richard and Marvin Guthrie and her three children, Linda, Joel, and Dorothy as well as her three grandpuppies, Tillie, Sassy and Maxine.

Mildred’s husband Allan and brother Larry preceded her in death.Her parents, Chauncey and Marjorie Guthrie passed away in 1985 and 1996 respectively.

Mildred, or as her relatives fondly called her, Suzie, married into a big family.

She had five sisters-in-law and five brothers-in-law. Doris Howard, Donnie Howard, and Annie Ritz preceded her in death while Jesse Schlener and Ruth Hoglan survive her. Brothers-in-law Jim, Bill and rascal Ralph MacDonald also preceded her in death while the dynamic duo, Dan and Ken still reside here in Bonners.

Mildred was everything from mother and homemaker to pianist in her long, colorful life, but as a youth, growing up with three brothers, she could be a scrapper, too, like her sister-in-law, Donnie. Now, remember, her maiden name was Guthrie so that the correlation between that name and the unfriendly nickname is clear in what follows. On Mildred’s first day wearing glasses at school, a particularly loud boy ran up and called her “four-eyed Gutwinder.” A mistake on his part. His nose recovered, but Mildred spent the rest of recess inside with a teacher who never bothered to scold or punish her.

Growing up, she rode the school bus her father Chauncey drove. One fall day at the beginning of a new school year she noticed a new boy on the bus. She confided to her family later that, at the time, she had thought he was rather dashing but a bit full of himself. In 1941 she married him and her adventures as a wife and mother began.

In 1947, Mildred and Allan purchased her grandmother’s farm. One particular time while Al was away for the day doing railroading things, Mildred was left at home to tend the farm.

It was then that a particularly big, ornery hog chose to root its way out of the pig pen. Well, Mildred was nothing if not ingenious. Thinking fast, she grabbed her daughter Linda and headed for the barn. Bypassing the old sow, she got to the barn where she stationed Linda behind the barn door, then grabbed the pig’s mash bucket and dashed back toward the big beast. When the hog saw her coming with the feed pail, it headed straight for her.

With a yelp, Mildred took off at a dead run, with the pig a close second, and headed for the barn door.

She made it through the do or just ahead of the pig, dropped the bucket, and shouted at Linda to shut the door behind the beastie while she sped through the milking parlor and out the door on the other end of the barn slamming the door behind her. The hog was caught; all was safe until Al could repair the pen that night.

It was perhaps that experience that led her — years later — to call her “cousin” Roger Guthrie to apply for the position of hog-a-phonist in his band after reading a story he about that amazing instrument in one of his pieces in a local paper.

Mildred’s life changed again after Allan quit the railroad and bought into the bowling alley here. The farm adventures continued but now competed with the bowling alley for time and attention. Farm repairs were usually done in a hurry. Thus, one such repair job ended with the electricity coming out of the barn being attached backwards and an electric fence gate was inadvertently electrified wrong-end to meaning the unhooked gate would remain electrified.

When Mildred and daughter Dorothy headed for the barn to do some chores, Dorothy unhooked the electric gate to let Mildred step over. Mildred got the “hot” wire tangled up in her ankles as Dorothy desperately tried to help -whipping the wire repeate dly from ankle to knee - which didn’t help. Mildred danced a high stepping highland fling before getting untangled, but that night in league bowling she was super charged: Mildred shot a 500 series.

During the railroad years Mildred and Allan played for local dances throughout the county. She was the heart of Allan’s music, setting the tempo and holding him to it. Later, in the 1960s when the bowling alley job allowed more practice time and when old time fiddling became quite popular, they began traveling to fiddle shows and contests throughout the Northwest and Canada.

On one of those Canadian fiddling trips, Allan invited some fiddling friends to stop by the camper.

Ever the housewife who wanted to be noted for her tidiness, Mildred gave him “the Look,” and headed for the camper to do a quick clean up before the guests arrived.

She had everything “redded up” nicely when she spotted a pair of her bloomers she’d washed and hung above the sink to dry.

She grabbed them and stuffed them into the closest hiding spot: Allan’s jacket pocket. The company came, played fiddle a bit, and left.The afternoon passed and it was time to go to the fiddling potluck. They headed there, filled their plates and sat at the long table with other fiddlers andtheir spouses to enjoy the meal and the company.

The conversation was good, the evening warm, and Allan needed to wipe his brow. Looking down, he wondered when he had put that lacy kerchief in his jacket pocket; then, he reached down, snapped it out — in full view of everyone at the long table — and comedy ensued. For a while, Mildred was known affectionately everywhere they went in Canada as the “bloomer lady.”

Time passed; they and their partners sold the bowling alley; and, in the 1990’s with their son, Joel, they set up a recording studio and put together 17 full length albums of their music.

Allan would lay down the main melody track. Then Mildred would begin her magic - adding track after track of accompaniment to each tune.

During those sessions, she used no music, she just played from the heart. She would record a track, listen, then say, “let’s try this. . .” and add more - from honkey tonk to new age.

No matter what job Mildred tackled, she found a way to make it fun. She lived her life in the house where she was born 92 and a little bit ago. As with all Moms, sisters, and wives, she was precious and one-of-a-kind in each respect.

The music may have quieted a bit here, but Mildred and Allan are back together again, and if you listen carefully you can hear them making a joyful noise together again.