That Wonderful Mother of Mine

On such a holiday, I'm queuing up Lawrence Welk via YouTube, playing the song we heard—for the first time—just over a week ago. "All of you mothers in the studio come up," Welk invites, and they 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 around the dance floor with the boys in the band. Spencer, across from me, just perked up from his crossword, recognizing the tune; he's smiling.



Welk, her favorite, is playing this song, her favorite. It was sung a week ago at her funeral.

I can picture Wilma Janet Chapman selling freshly churned ice cream from a dairy cart in 1920s Rigby, Idaho. I smile at the thought of her words—"Not one for the womanly arts"—and that picture of her in sports uniform, made all the richer by the fact this, again, is the '20s. I think of her marrying Nile just two months after Pearl Harbor, dressed up with one beautiful orchid pinned to her dress, a flower the matron let her don during the temple ceremony.

"I up and found you a new daughter," Nile had written his own mother. He and Wilma would lose their first daughter, Claudia, at only 18 months old.

And I smile at the thought of Wilma holding Claudia again.