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Mildred Irene MacDonald
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November 13, 1921 ~ February 1, 2014 |
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February 3, 2014 |
 Mildred
Irene (Guthrie) MacDonald, 92, passed away at
Boundary Community Hospital in Bonners Ferry,
February 1, 2014. Funeral services will be at 11
a.m. February 6 at Bonners Ferry Funeral Home
with internment to follow at Paradise Valley
Cemetery.
She was born November 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 her 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 door 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 repeatedly 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 and their 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 1990s, 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 ninety-two 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.
Family and friends are invited to sign Mildred’s
book at
www.bonnersferryfuneralhome.com.
Arrangements are entrusted to the care of
Bonners Ferry Funeral Home. |
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