2 thoughts on “Bertha Welk Wetzler”

  1. We weren’t close. Not my choice. Just the normal distance of family. She was the youngest of the John Welk line. My father was the eldest. She was the Aunt that I always thought was so cool, free, and full of energy. Yet she could be very serious when it came to certain things like family and Bridge. God, she loved playing Bridge. She had a laugh that brought you into the joke even if you didn’t hear it. She and her siblings were always playing practical jokes on each other or the nieces and nephews. I can’t remember any tears. Just the laughter. It’s been a few years since I was able to spend time with her. It was a reunion at Steamboat. Jay, Diane, and Marilyn would always sing. You could see how proud she was.
    Welcome Bertie to the arms of God and the beautiful nature that you loved.
    Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye
    Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there.
    I do not sleep.
    I am a thousand winds that blow.
    I am the diamond glints on snow.
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
    I am the gentle autumn rain.
    When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight.
    I am the soft stars that shine at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there.
    I did not die.

  2. When I was new to Boulder and the Bridge playing scene back in the 80’s Bertie was very kind to include me in her group of bridge players. She also let me come over and play the grand piano in her parlor. We in the bridge playing community will miss her.

    Ken Wanamaker

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