Prudy Kline always there for family, friends

Not many homes have stood for a full century, and fewer still have sheltered six generations of the same family. A real home, it is said, provides not only a roof overhead but also a sure foundation and has, at its heart, a good woman.

Prudence Kline – or, more aptly, Prudy – grew up in the same huge, sturdy house her mother had grown up in. To members of her family, it still is home. Her carpenter grandfather, Edgar Cady, built in intriguing hidden doorways and passageways that have entertained children’s imaginations since the home was built in 1904.

Prudy’s father, Walter McNeeley, died before her seventh birthday, so her mother Ruth and her children moved back into the family home.

Photographs attest to the family food fests that have filled the yard with warm reunions and contented appetites. Prudy was never happier than when cooking for her family and friends. Her cheesy potatoes – two pans, please – and her scalloped chicken were frequent requests.

She was a tiny red-headed sprite of a girl, full of mischief and good humor, always interested in others. So, when her older sister, Doris, came home from waitressing at the local cafe with stories of two skinny railroad workers who were coming in every night and eating everything in sight, Prudy had to go see for herself.

Indeed, Jerry Kline and Art Yonkers came in and ordered two dinners and three desserts – each – and ate every bite. Soon, Prudy and Jerry were dating, and on Christmas Eve 1942, they were married in Sandpoint.

They lived briefly in Seattle and then moved to Clark Fork, raising four children and creating a solid home of their own.

Prudy became something of a legend in Clark Fork when she decided she was going to start driving. She had the whole town in awe – and scrambling for cover. At 5 feet 1 inch, she could hardly be expected to see over the dashboard of the 1954 Chevrolet station wagon.

First, she backed the car out – on top of the dog – then loaded up the dog to go to the vet in Sandpoint. Oh, must stop first to ask the neighbor to go along – woops, there went their stone wall and one side of the station wagon.

Within a few months, both sides of the car had been pretty much demolished. She had knocked over the fire hydrant in town, thereby creating Old Faithful II, and had managed to hit the coach’s car as well.

Before her grandchildren became her chauffeurs, Prudy always said she could drive anywhere as long as it involved only right turns. Her most infamous left turn put her in the center of an intersection in which both sides of the car were hit, twice each, and the occupants all wound up in the hospital.

The car was totaled. No one could ever say she wasn’t thorough.

In 1966, the Klines moved back to Rathdrum, again to the old home just across the street from John Brown Elementary School.

Prudy became a custodian at the school, handy for her and a delight to the children and teachers. Her husband was a city councilman, and Prudy spoke of “having grandchildren here, and we just want to help them out.” She volunteered with the Royal Neighbors and St. Stanislaus Altar Society.

Like the house itself, she was always there for her family and friends.

She was there for her daughter when her marriage ended, and she later took the lead in welcoming a new son-in-law into the family. In 2002, her son Wally lost his wife, a brother and his best friend all within a few months – and, of course, Prudy was there.

Her friends also remember her energetic, helping ways and unfailing good cheer. You could count on Prudy.

She was wholehearted in supporting her youngsters in their worthwhile endeavors, and when their activities were less than worthwhile, she would tell them what was what in no uncertain terms.

She was enthusiastic about the grandchildren’s karate classes and medieval pageantry, with all the costumes and folderol, and simply loved them all unconditionally. She taught them to be themselves and to play her great pastime, pinochle, which she did not like to lose. She was even known to cheat occasionally. Never in serious play, of course.

Travel was a thrill, as Prudy and Jerry visited Alaska, Hawaii and Germany. Family feasts followed boating trips to Neah Bay, Wash., with coolers full of salmon and halibut plus clams by the bucket. They also relished their time at their condo at Hope.

After Jerry died 18 years ago, Prudy became a snowbird, spending winters with her daughter in Arizona. There, she cooked and helped ride herd on the grandchildren, played pinochle, crocheted and embroidered keepsakes and kept up with “her” Seattle Mariners.

Last Halloween, her card club held a costume party, and she went all out – at age 83, the most elegant old witch at the ball. How she loved a good laugh!

Prudy may be gone now, but that old house feels like it will be there for another hundred years, no problem.

Other hands may be cooking up her recipes and dealing the cards, but there still is a lot of life to be lived within those walls – and 100 years of memories.