Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

The neighbor no one wants February 24, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:13 AM
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I WALKED OUT OF A NEARLY TWO-HOUR meeting last night at the Faribault Police Department wondering how many more times I will need to sit through a session like this.

For at least the third time, if not the fourth (I’ve lost track), I attended a level three sex offender community notification meeting.

On March 1, a level three offender—designated as most likely to re-offend—is moving into a rental unit in the 300 block of Willow Street, within two blocks of my home. The 34-year-old registered predatory offender has been convicted twice, and sent to prison, for sex crimes against 15-year-old females in Dakota and Rice counties.

He also has an extensive juvenile and adult history of criminal and chemical abuse activity. Some of those crimes involved theft and domestic assault and a shotgun. We weren’t given a detailed list of all his crimes, but he’s not the kind of guy you want moving into your neighborhood.

No one was up in arms at the meeting, which was sparsely attended, I believe, due to the “if it’s not in my neighborhood I don’t care” attitude or perhaps a lack of awareness about the offender moving here. But those who attended, especially mothers whose daughters fit his victim age group of young teens, expressed their very real concerns.

The man’s 15-year-old victims included one with whom he had a relationship and another whom he met at a party and who was under the influence of alcohol. In that last August 2004 assault in Rice County, the offender was sentenced to 98 months in prison. He was released on April 26, 2010, into another Faribault neighborhood. (Surprise. I didn’t know that.) Six months later he was back in prison for violating rules of his supervision by having access to the internet.

Presenter Mark Bliven of the Minnesota Department of Corrections advised attendees to educate their children, offering lists of safety tips. Faribault Police Chief Dan Collins added that many crimes are “crimes of opportunity.” We’ve all heard it before—and I suppose a refresher course doesn’t hurt—but I was more interested in hearing specifics about my new neighbor. So, yes, I asked questions, lots of them.

If we are to believe Bliven, residents outside of my neighborhood and the Faribault community ought to be more concerned about this level three sex offender than those of us living close to him. Typically, he said, offenders, if they recommit, do so outside of their neighborhoods, away from the places where they know they are being watched.

Most often, he added, if offenders are returned to prison, it is for non-criminal offenses, ie. violation of their supervised release. My new neighbor can’t drink, can’t hang out with minors, can’t access the internet, can’t break the law, can’t just go (for now) wherever he pleases…

Bliven spewed out statistics, like 16,500 registered predatory offenders were living in Minnesota as of January 1, 2011. That number encompasses mostly sex offenders, but also includes those involved in crimes of kidnapping and false imprisonment.

Within Minnesota communities there are currently 203 level three offenders. About half of those live in Minneapolis. Of the 203, there are 71 under supervision; 132 are unsupervised.

Come March 1, two level three offenders will be living in Faribault.

We know about those two offenders because they are classified as level three, at high risk for re-offending. By state law, community notification is required.

But 63 other registered predatory offenders live in Faribault. Thirty more live in other parts of Rice County. Their identities are unknown to us because they are classified at lower risk levels.

Throughout the meeting, Blevin tried to reassure us. The offender will be on intensive supervised release until April 24, 2020. He must register as a predatory offender for life. He will be on an active GPS for up to 60 days…six probation officers will be watching him.

Neighbors will be watching too.

I wasn’t upset by the information I learned at Wednesday night’s meeting. I’ve been through this before. I expected to hear what I heard. I truly believe that knowledge is power in protecting ourselves and our children.

What I found most unsettling, because I did not expect this, happened after the meeting. As my husband and I were driving away from the police department, we saw a Rice County probation officer—the supervising agent for the offender moving into my neighborhood—open the back door of her car and slip a bullet-proof vest over her head. I don’t know where she was headed or what she was doing, but that was a frightening reality check for me.

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CLICK HERE to reach the Minnesota Department of Corrections website for more information about the level three sex offender moving to Faribault on March 1.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Remembering the children as Minnesota prepares for spring floods February 23, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:12 AM
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SOMETIMES WE FORGET, in the jumble of quotes and information, to see a certain human, deeply personal, side of a news story.

Today, thanks to Katie Shones of Hammond, I’m bringing you a child’s perspective on the devastating flood that engulfed her southeastern Minnesota community of 230 during a September 2010 flash flood. I met Katie shortly after the flood.

The disaster was a terrifying ordeal for Hammond residents, who are still reeling in the aftermath. Many have not yet returned to their homes. Some won’t.

Now, as the focus in Minnesota shifts to predicted record spring flooding, as officials prepare for the highest river levels since the 1960s, as crews begin filling sandbags in areas along the Red River, this seems the right moment to let Katie speak—about her children.

But first a little background. Katie and her husband, Scott, live on the east side of Hammond, which is divided by the Zumbro River. The river flows just across Main Street, the highway and the park from the Shones’ home. Floodwaters came within feet—feet—of their house, lapping at their front door.

The home of Katie and Scott Shones and their children, photographed by Hammond resident Gene Reckmann during the September 2010 flood. Their house was spared, by mere feet.

Katie isn’t too worried about flooding this spring. Yet, she’s concerned enough to have a plan. If the Zumbro River rises like it did last fall, she and Scott will haul sand and gravel from a local quarry and build a bank to protect their home. They also have a relocation plan in place.

Their 11-year-old daughter, Rebekah, is ready too. “Ever the resourceful and prepared child she is, she has two bags jam-packed with stuff underneath her bed just in case we have to leave on a moment’s notice due to floodwaters,” Katie says.

This mother’s words break my heart. No child should have to worry about a flood.

But the depth to which the Hammond flood has impacted Rebekah and her 9-year-old brother Jerome reaches beyond concerns about a future flood. “The September flood has affected them more deeply than I had ever imagined,” Katie tells me. “Bekah still occasionally cries out in her sleep, ‘Daddy, Daddy, help me.’ When I ask her what is wrong, she mumbles things about the flood. She never fully wakes up, but I do believe she is having nightmares about that day.”

As a mother, simply reading this brings me to tears. I can only imagine how Katie and Scott feel when they hear their daughter cry out for help in her sleep.

“Jerome has seen the flooding in Australia on the news and is very worried that it will spread to Hammond,” Katie continues. “I have tried to reassure my kids that if it ever gets as bad as it did last fall, we will leave long before it reaches our place and go to Grandma Merle’s (my mother’s farm). The farm is located just two miles from our home, but is on the limestone bluffs above the Zumbro River.”

With so many Hammond residents forced from town and many still not back in their homes, Katie says her children are also without many playmates. “…there never were many children in the area their ages to play with, but now there are only four kids in Hammond left for them to play with.”

That said, the absence of their playmates serves as a daily reminder to Rebekah and Jerome of the floodwaters which ravaged their town and came terrifyingly close to flooding their home.

As Minnesotans physically prepare for the floodwaters that are certain to inundate communities and homes, I hope river town residents are also preparing psychologically, specifically remembering the children like Rebekah and Jerome.

Floodwaters destroyed this portion of Wabasha County Road 11, the river road which runs from Hammond to Jarrett. Gene Reckmann photographed this section of the roadway just outside of Hammond.

THANK YOU, Katie, for allowing me to share your deeply personal story. Thank you also to Gene Reckmann of Hammond for the photos posted here.

READERS, IF YOU have not read my series of posts and photos about the September flood in Hammond and neighboring Zumbro Falls, check my Minnesota Prairie Roots archives for stories published during the week of October 11, 2010.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Poetry in abandoned buildings February 22, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:42 AM
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I photographed this abandoned building along a country road near Kasota last fall.

ABANDONED FARMHOUSES and rural buildings have always held a special fascination for me.

As odd as this seems, I see poetry in these buildings that lean against the landscape, that view the world through shattered lenses.

I often wonder: Who lived or worked here? Why was this farmhouse or barn or outbuilding or schoolhouse abandoned, left to decay in the elements? I feel a certain sense of sadness knowing that once this building stood strong and proud.

But, yet, I manage to see the beauty in the bones that remain—in weathered boards muted to soft shades of gray, in crooked doors clinging to rusty hinges, in roofs that sag under the weight of time.

In my mind, I have personified this abandoned building, given it new life, through my photos and my poetic thoughts.

HOW ABOUT YOU—do you see what I see in old buildings? Share your thoughts in a comment.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections on the 2008 Cottonwood bus crash February 21, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:41 AM
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THREE YEARS AGO Saturday, the small southwestern Minnesota community of Cottonwood suffered an unbelievable tragedy. They lost four of their children when a van ran a stop sign and slammed into a school bus, killing Jesse, Hunter, Reed and Emilee.

I intended to mark that February 19 anniversary date with a blog post. But I forgot. I am not proud of myself. How could I forget to honor these young lives, to remember a prairie town that mourned so deeply, to tell the families that I have not forgotten them or this horrible day?

The event touched me personally as my cousin Joyce’s grandson, 8-year-old Bryce, was riding in the front seat of that bus. He was OK, suffering only several small abrasions.

I’ve kept the emails Joyce and I exchanged after that February 19, 2008, tragedy because I never wanted to forget. And now I’ve gone and done just that.

So today, several days late, I want to remind all of you to hold your children close, to tell them how very much you love them. Treasure them. Every day.

My cousin told me back then, three years ago, about the terror she felt after learning of the crash and not knowing if her grandson was OK. Later, she would thank God for watching over Bryce as she prayed for the recovery of the injured, the families who lost their children and the community of Cottonwood.

I purchased a teddy bear, a bag of M & Ms and a book for Bryce, a voracious reader, and mailed the items to him along with a letter just days after the crash. I figured he could use a teddy bear to hug and words of encouragement.

I wrote, in part, “I hear that you were very brave, which is a tough thing to be when something so scary happens.”

I encouraged him to talk to God, his family or anyone else “when you feel scared and sad.”

Then I ended my letter: “Lots of people love you.”

Today as I reflect on the four children who died that Tuesday afternoon in February 2008 on the cold, wind-swept prairie in a tragedy that should never have happened, my heart aches for their families.

But I hope that through the grief and the pain and the healing they can hold onto the love, the love that will always be there, and the memories, the sweet, sweet memories of their precious children.

CLICK HERE TO READ a blog post I wrote on February 19, 2009, marking the one-year anniversary of the Cottonwood bus crash.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

 

 

A snow day in Faribault

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:07 AM
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“YOU DIDN’T BELIEVE ME. Give me a high five.”

That’s how the 17-year-old reacted at 7:07 this morning after learning that Faribault schools are closed today because of a snow day.

I wish I had been the one to deliver the good news to him, to a boy who typically lingers in bed until he risks being late for school, which he was one day recently, on a Thursday “late start” day of all days.

But this morning my son heard the “no school” news from his dad, who is currently blowing the eight or nine or 10 inches of snow from ours and our neighbor’s driveways.

Upstairs, the teen is likely back in dreamland and I’ve had a pleasant start to my morning with no snarling, no crabbing, no frowns or grumpy face.

Ah, yes, I love snow days.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Snow in Minnesota, again February 20, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:43 PM
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UP UNTIL ABOUT 45 minutes ago, snow was falling fast and furious here in Faribault, at a rate of an inch an hour.

Visibility had dwindled to a block in town. As for the country, I wouldn’t even want to guess.

But now, shortly after noon, the snow flakes aren’t as thick or as heavy and conditions have improved. Perhaps this is simply a lull in a storm predicted to drop up to 15 inches of snow here in southeastern Minnesota, more in southwestern Minnesota, “more” being 20 inches.

My area of Minnesota is currently under a winter storm warning until noon Monday.

In southwestern Minnesota, where my mom and other family members live, a blizzard warning has been issued. Snow and winds have created difficult driving conditions and low visibility on the prairie, according to information I just read on the Minnesota Department of Transportation website. I expect that snow gates, if they have not already been lowered across roads like Minnesota State Highway 19, will soon be put in place. That means you do not travel those roadways without the risk of a hefty fine. Prairie people, for the most part, understand the dangers of traveling in a blizzard and stay put.

I expect to spend my day holed up at home, wrapping up writing projects for Minnesota Moments’ spring issue. It’s a good day to do that and a good way to avoid working on income tax. I detest rounding up tax information and, this year, have put off the awful numbers task longer than normal.

On the way home from church, my husband and I stopped at the grocery store, a busy place at 10 a.m. As we entered the store, we were greeted by a shopper who just smiled and said, “Here we go again.” He was, of course, referring to the snow.

Then, a half hour later as we exited the store with our bread and other food packed into three bags, a cart-pusher, who was struggling to gather grocery carts in the snowy parking lot, declared, “Winter all over again.”

See the common word in their statements? That would be “again.”

Yup, here we go again.

I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR reports about weather conditions in your area. So submit a comment.

 

I APOLOGIZE for the lack of current photos, but I am without my Canon for a week while it is being cleaned.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Already missing my fifth eye February 19, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:33 AM
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My fifth eye, my Canon EOS 20D.

I’M NOT A CONTORTIONIST. But when I shoot photos, I manage to twist my fingers and body into abnormal bends. Sort of like Gumby.

But that’s not the point of this post.

My purpose is to tell you that I will be without my camera for a week. That makes me nervous, uneasy, tense, stressed and uncomfortable.

I’m really attached to my camera. I mean really. My Canon EOS 20D is like my fifth eye. I wear prescription lenses, so 2 natural eyes + 2 eyeglass lenses + 1 camera lens = 5 eyes.

I cannot imagine an entire week without shooting a single image. My camera is always there, sitting on the floor of my office, ready to grab for a quick interior shot or when I’m heading out the door.

But I’ve known for quite some time that I needed to get it checked. Spots have shown up in my photos, always in the same location. Sometimes they are noticeable, sometimes not, depending on the subject I am shooting.

After googling the topic and consulting with friends who are professional photographers, I verified that the likely problem is dust on the sensor. I hoped, but didn’t expect, that I could get my camera cleaned in Faribault. I can’t. And I’m too scared to buy a kit and try cleaning the sensor myself. Why risk damaging an expensive camera to save a few bucks?

So today I’ll drop my Canon off at National Camera Exchange in Burnsville and they’ll send it over to their Golden Valley store for cleaning. In a week, I can pick it up.

That’s 604,800 seconds without my fifth eye.

I hope I can see OK.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Snow peas at the farmers’ market February 18, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:45 AM
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Faribault Farmers' Market sign, photographed during the summer.

MY HUSBAND AND I HAD some fun recently at our teen’s expense.

We were talking about food samples at the grocery store and I was raving about the bread. My spouse was telling me about the fish from Vietnam and how a shopper declared he wouldn’t eat anything from that country because of the parasites. I’m guessing he was a Vietnam War veteran.

Our son caught snippets of our conversation, remaining checked out for most of the exchange as is typical of him. Apparently any words said by the parents are not worthy of his full attention.

That is why, whenever he jumps into the middle of a discussion, his statements usually make no sense.

“What, you got bread at the farmer’s market?” he interjected into our grocery store sample conversation.

Now if we were teenagers, my husband and I would have rolled our eyes. But we didn’t.

One of us responded with something like, “You think there’s a farmers’ market in winter?” Well, maybe in some communities, but not in Central Park in Faribault, Minnesota, in February, even if the temp soared to nearly 50 degrees recently.

Besides, we added, it’s not like the local vendors would have any fresh fruits and vegetables to sell.

Then my husband, who possesses a sense of humor that balances my seriousness, thought for a moment.

Of course, he said, they could sell iceberg lettuce and snow peas, and, I added, freeze pops and snow cones.

And, oh, yeah, the Dairy Queen folks could peddle Blizzards.

By that time, the teen had already begun checking out. I could see it in his rolling eyes, in the dismissive shake of his head, in the vibe that indicated he thought his parents were nuts.

We just laughed.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

February heat wave in Minnesota February 17, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:50 PM
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SEVENTY-FOUR DEGREES and sunny in St. Louis.

Eighty degrees and sunny in Florida.

Foggy and 40-something-degrees in Minnesota.

Thursday held the promise of another warm day in Minnesota. And by warm, I mean anything above freezing. I expected temperatures to reach near the predicted 60 degrees here in southeastern Minnesota. But I had to settle for the 40s, primarily, I think, because the fog failed to lift until late in the day.

But after this long, snowy winter, I’ll take it…because tomorrow winter returns with colder temps and snow on the way for the weekend.

For now, though, for today, patches of grass edge snow banks that are shrinking in February warmth.

Winter, spring and fall. Four seasons captured in this image I took along the edge of my driveway Thursday.

Puddles form in the low dips of the sidewalk. Mud sucks at my boots as I pick up building debris in my yard. Neighborhood children ride their bikes and zoom on their scooters.

Neighbor kids traded winter coats for sweatshirts and rode their scooters and bikes after school Thursday.

In reality, February is still winter and not the spring I await.

I need only click on my computer and open my e-mail for a reality check.

“As for spring, feel free to head our way. It’s 74 degrees and sunny here today, guaranteed to melt any snow you still have hanging around in Minnesota!” writes my editor from St. Louis, Missouri. I send the e-mail to “trash.”

Click.

I can’t escape the taunting, the flaunting. My oldest daughter sends me a text message from Florida, where she arrived last night. “…soon we will go to the beach…it is around 80.”

Click.

A vintage lawn chair on my backyard patio remains immersed in a sea of snow. The snow level has decreased considerably, though. Only the tip of this chair has been visible most of the winter.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Mice in the fish bowl

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:56 AM
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PEOPLE WERE STARTING to talk. So it was time, high time, we did something about the problem.

It wasn’t like we didn’t want to solve the problem, but we couldn’t, not until this past Saturday when the Rice County Landfill was open on a weekend we were free.

We needed to clear the debris—wood siding, old windows, an old door and more—from the side of our driveway. It had been there for weeks, underneath layers of snow. Because we live in a fish bowl, aka a busy street, people know exactly what we are doing and they feel free to comment.

 

Just a portion of the demolition debris piled under the snow along our driveway.

“When are you going to get rid of that junk along your driveway?” they would remark.

We would explain that we couldn’t until the second Saturday of the month, when the landfill was open for several hours. My husband couldn’t take time off work during the week to do this job.

So this past Saturday was the day, the day we would finally tidy up our property.

Friday evening my husband and son bundled up and loaded half of the demolition debris from our home improvement project into the back of a company pick-up truck. I would have helped, except for one minor situation. Only days earlier, while shoveling snow from the driveway, I heard the tell-tale scritch-scratch of feet, mice feet, in the debris pile.

That was my conclusion, based only on the memory of mice scritch-scratching in the walls of my childhood home. At that very moment I knew I could not, would not, disturb their temporary shelter. Deeply engrained in my memory is my dad’s story of a mouse skittering up his pant leg.

 

I heard scratching from within this debris pile. My family told me I likely just heard a candy bar wrapper blowing in the wind. I told them I likely knew what I was hearing and it wasn't a candy bar wrapper blowing in the wind.

So I stayed clear, tucked safely inside the house, as the guys hoisted old windows and wood into the back of the pick-up Friday evening. They claimed they did not see a mouse, not a single one, but I was uncertain whether to believe them. Sometimes, they have learned, it is better not to tell me the truth about topics like…mice.

Saturday morning, while the teenage son slept, his dad and I rose early to haul the first truck full of debris to the landfill.

When we arrived back home and I realized I would now have to dip into that snow-covered demo stash and possibly stir up a mouse, I stepped back. Literally. My brave, brave spouse forged ahead. When no mice, not even one, appeared, I pitched in, lifting and tossing.

So to those of you who’ve wondered when we were going to clean up that junk along the end of the driveway, look, it’s gone. Gone. All gone.

And so too are the mice. I wonder where they’ve gone. Could they possibly have…? Nah. Better to not even think that, let alone write it.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling