Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

The Super Bowl entertainment fiasco February 7, 2011

IF YOU WATCHED the Super Bowl, what’s your opinion of the half-time entertainment?

Here’s mine: I did not get it. None of it. Not the words, not the dancing, not the message, not anything performed by the Black Eyed Peas. I couldn’t understand most of the lyrics.

I did not “get” the lead singer’s (sorry, don’t know his name) clear plastic head covering. He didn’t look too comfortable, sweating and all. I did like the group dancers’ glowing costumes. Those were cool.

I’ll admit that I know nothing about the Black Eyed Peas. I struggle, though, to define their “music” as “music.”

But then 70s era music is my music. And let me tell you, THAT was music—Chicago, Bread, the Moody Blues, Elton John, Rod Stewart…

This Black Eyed Peas stuff is not music, in my fifty-something opinion.

So…, the half-time show disappointed me, big-time. Half-time is one of the two reasons I sometimes, and I mean sometimes, watch the Super Bowl. I also, sometimes, watch the game to see the commercials. I could care less about the football.

I didn’t see every ad, but here’s my take on those: Way too many car commercials. Didn’t we just bail out the auto makers a few years ago and now they are spending millions on 30-second spots? That doesn’t sit right with me. I know, I know, there’s more to the story than that, but I’m just giving you my gut taxpayer reaction.

I don’t know why this surprises me, but I also thought too many commercials were too sexist and too violent. Can’t give you specifics because I didn’t take notes, but I recall a club and fire, weapons and long legs and…a guy ordering flowers…

My favorite commercial—monkeys running across the tops of cars with brief cases—made me chuckle. Sorry, I can’t tell you what they were advertising, so I guess that ad probably failed.

Then to top it off, Christina Aguilera messed up on the National Anthem, singing “What so proudly we watched at the twilight’s last gleaming” instead of “O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming.”

Come on. I admit, I could probably flub The Star Spangled Banner too, but I’m not a professional performer.

At least the Green Bay Packers won the game. I was rooting for them, sort of, when I wasn’t reading the newspaper, clipping coupons and falling asleep on the couch.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Paint problems February 6, 2011

THIS WEEKEND my husband and I have been marathon painting. We painted our bedroom Friday evening.

And then Saturday we tackled the living room. Get it? Tackle. Football. Super Bowl.

I need to throw some humor into this whole situation. You’ll understand as you continue reading.

Saturday wake-up arrived dark and early at 5:45 a.m. as the 16-year-old had to be up to catch a bus at 6:30 a.m. for a science competition in Rochester. Any thoughts of sleeping in were simply dreams. My husband and I were sleeping on our mattress in the living room, because of the strong paint odor in our bedroom. The living room is directly in the pathway to the kitchen and to the back door. So when our son was up and around, we were too. Besides, he needed a ride to school, although we could have made him walk. But sometimes, according to him, we are actually “nice” parents.

I digress.

Given our early rising, we could have, should have, finished painting early in the day. But we were waiting for our friend, Duane, to arrive. He is a professional painter and had offered to offer some tips on painting the ceiling. The last time my husband painted the ceiling, it looked like a spotted cow and we hired another friend to repaint it. So we were willing to wait for Duane. Between the two of them, Duane and Randy finished the ceiling in an hour. I’m happy to report we do not have Holsteins on our ceiling.

By that time, we were ready for a break from paint fumes and we still needed to pick up the paint for our living room walls. So we drove the several miles across town to get two gallons of Cashmere paint, in a golden “Whole Wheat” color, from Sherwin Williams. With stir sticks, more rollers and additional paint trays in hand and $90 less in our bank account, we were ready to paint.

Or so we thought.

Sherwin Williams' premium Cashmere paint, a satiny paint that we've used before and really like.

After a quick lunch, Randy opened the gallon of paint, only to find specks of color floating on the top. Now, I would have just stirred and stirred the heck out of that paint. But not my smart husband. He slapped on the paint lid, pounded the cover, grabbed the two gallons of paint and drove back, across town, to Sherwin Williams.

I told him I was going to take a nap, but instead called my mom.

When, even after a lengthy conversation with my mom, my husband still wasn’t home, I phoned him. He was at the paint store. Seems all the shaking in the world wouldn’t shake the gold coloring into the white Cashmere paint. Not into the first can of paint. Not into the second can of paint. Not even into a third can of paint, with a different batch number, pulled from the shelf.

Calls to the store manager at home and to the Owatonna Sherwin Williams store got the same answer: “We’ve never had this happen before.” No one could figure it out.

Then the manager suggested trying a different paint, SuperPaint. That worked; the colors mixed into the paint.

Sherwin Williams' SuperPaint, the paint that ended up on our living room walls. I like the look of the paint, but not the chalky-feel finish.

By the time Randy returned home, we knew we would be pushing it to finish painting the living room by dusk.

But we did and I was happy…, until I ran my hand along a newly-painted wall. The dried SuperPaint felt like chalk, a sharp contrast to the glide-smooth finish of the premium Cashmere paint. By then, though, it was too late to do anything. We had already picked up a second gallon of paint for the second coat.

What did I learn from this? Whenever you undertake a home improvement project, something always pops up. I just didn’t think we would have problems with paint, for goodness sakes.

Now, did I tell you about the evening our brand new front door popped open when we were watching TV?

#

(I AM WAITING to see if Sherwin Williams will give us store credit, or a partial refund, for the paint hassles. If they figure out the problem, I would really like to know why the colors wouldn’t mix into the Cashmere paint.)

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An emergency road service ordeal February 5, 2011

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN a hassle-free situation. That is why we have emergency road service coverage through our auto insurance. It is for times like this—when the car breaks down and you are stranded.

That happened to our eldest daughter Friday evening as she was leaving her St. Paul office for the commute to her Minneapolis home.

When a light came on in her car and when she had difficulty steering, she quickly got off the road and pulled into a convenience store.

Getting a tow truck should have been easy, worry-free, as promised by the insurance company. It was anything but.

A call to the insurance company came with a promise that help was on the way. But, as the minutes ticked by and no tow truck arrived, my daughter called to check on the reason for the delay.

She was told the tow truck driver couldn’t find her, although she was at a busy convenience store just off Interstate 94 and had specified her exact location. The driver, claimed, however, that he couldn’t find her. He was from Columbia Heights, not St. Paul.

So my eldest, by this time frustrated, called a St. Paul towing company.

They were “really nice,” she told me when phoning to update me on her situation.

Well, “Minnesota Nice” soon changed to “Minnesota-Not-So-Nice.” The driver first asked for $90 cash to pay the towing fee.

Who carries $90 cash?

Not my daughter.

Instead, he accepted her credit card, which, for whatever reason, wouldn’t work.

So she asked if he would take a check. He would. She wrote out a check and was already en route to Minneapolis with a friend who had come to her rescue when her cell phone rang.

It was the manager of the towing company saying the firm could not accept her check and would be towing her car back to the convenience store.

What would you do?

Probably exactly what my daughter did. She explained that she was not trying to rip off the towing company, that she had plenty of money in her bank account. It didn’t matter, so she headed back to the convenience store to use the ATM which the towing company rep told her was located there.

She withdrew $90 cash, paid the tow truck driver, ripped up the $90 check in front of him and left, two hours after she first called the insurance company that promised worry-free, drive-and-sign emergency road service.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Whole wheat and we’re not talking bread February 4, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:35 PM
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MY FRIEND MIKE called Thursday morning, just after I switched off the vacuum cleaner. Thank goodness I didn’t miss his call or I would have been so mad at myself.

You see, Mike is a color expert, a former floral designer, an interior decorator, a guy with an eye for color.

I needed his advice on the paint color for our living room.

 

My living room walls, patch primed for painting, are currently boring beige. I've been looking for a neutral color with some warmth. Here the couch is pulled away from the wall in prep for painting.

I’d narrowed it down to two Sherwin Williams’ colors. But all week I’ve gone back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Nomadic Desert or Whole Wheat. Whole Wheat or Nomadic Desert. Whole Wheat. Nomadic Desert.

Every day was like a tug-of-war as I held the paint samples against the living room walls at different times of day and night.

 

The expanse of beige behind the entertainment center.

But, more and more, I was leaning toward Whole Wheat.

Yet…, I wasn’t sure and I’m not the kind of person who likes to paint so I had to be certain.

Then Mike called and the weight of making the right or wrong decision lifted from my shoulders. When he arrived at my house, Mike quickly looked at my preferred paint samples and a few others from the paint sample card pile of possibilities. He held the samples to the walls and briefly contemplated.

But he didn’t agonize, didn’t sigh, didn’t even hesitate and promptly endorsed my selection.

I was giddy, relieved, thankful—all rolled in one.

However, my friend warned me that initially I might find the color too dark, too bold, compared to the existing beige walls. I figured as much. But he assured me Whole Wheat was the right choice.

Then he burst my happiness bubble. “Be sure to apply two coats of paint.”

My enthusiasm deflated. “Why?” I asked.

He explained that no matter how hard I tried to cover the white primer, the primed spots would still show. Two coats would also add depth to the color.

I expect he’s right. Mike is a color expert. I’m not.

“I suppose you don’t like to paint?” I asked.

“I do like to paint,” he said.

But Mike is too busy right now coordinating a fundraiser on Saturday night. I know, though, if he had the time to help, he would. Mike is that kind of friend.

#

I ALSO WANT TO THANK my blogger friend Dana at Bungalow ‘56 up in Canada. She read my February 3 post, “Stressing over a home improvement project” and sent me a link to “Nesting Place Paint Colors & A Linky For Your Paint Colors.” As luck would have it, I clicked on one of the links and found a kitchen painted in Sherwin Williams’ Whole Wheat.

Coincidence?

#

THANKS ALSO TO MY SISTER, Lanae, a floral designer and color expert, for the color suggestions she emailed. I wish I possessed half her decorating talent.

She reminds me many times that as a child I once picked a yellow dress with daisy adornments over a green sailor-style dress. I quickly regretted my choice. Lanae regretted it, too, because she had to wear my hand-me-downs, including that atrocious daisy dress.

Bottom line, my sister has excellent taste and I trust her recommendations.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Kletscher family legacy of public service

WE’RE NOT EXACTLY the Kennedys. But the Kletscher family, my family, has a long history of political, church and community involvement.

My uncle, Merlin Kletscher, writes in the family history booklet he compiled:

“Many of us (in this older generation) have, like our forefathers, been active in our community. We have served our country in the military, on church councils, city councils, township boards, ambulance squads, fire departments, and school boards. We’ve served on Legion auxiliaries, vocational school cooperatives, electric power cooperatives and grain elevator board cooperatives. Fire chiefs, mayors and county commissioners are among our family—and it makes me proud. The list for our family could go on and on. The point here is that our families have seen the need, as our forefathers did, to serve others to make someone else’s life a better life.”

For the Kletschers, that service to others traces back to my great grandfather, Rudolph Kletscher, a German immigrant. In 1890, he started a mission church at his home near Vesta in southwestern Minnesota. The families who met in his farmhouse would eventually organize St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, where I worshipped as a child and which my mother and many other relatives still attend today.

I never knew my great grandfather, who died three decades before I was born. But his legacy of community involvement continued when his son Henry, my grandfather, served for many years on the Vesta School Board. When I was attending Vesta Elementary School, I would walk by a plaque just inside the front door engraved with my grandpa’s name. I suppose, subconsciously, that made an impression upon me.

My Uncle Merlin, the family historian, like his father before him, became involved in education by serving on two school boards. His community involvement is too long to list. But suffice to say that Rudolph Kletscher would be impressed with his grandson.

He would also be proud of my Uncle Harold, who held public office for more than 30 years in Vesta. Two of Harold’s sons likewise were elected to office.

In my immediate family, my dad, Elvern, fought on the front lines in the Korean Conflict and was active locally in church and Legion organizations and probably other groups of which I am unaware. He once unsuccessfully ran for Redwood County commissioner.

One of my brothers served several terms as a county commissioner. My older brother was the Westbrook fire chief for many years and his son is currently a volunteer fireman.

My eldest daughter holds a political science degree and today works in the State Capitol complex.

Like my Uncle Merlin, I am proud to be part of a family that gives back via public service.

MY COUSIN JEFF KLETSCHER, who is current president of the Minnesota Association of Small Cities and who served on the Floodwood City Council for 10 years before being elected mayor in 2003—he’s in his fifth mayoral term—was a DFL candidate for the House District 5B seat in northeastern Minnesota.

Jeff finished fourth among five DFLers in Tuesday’s special primary election. It was hard, he says, to be from a small community (Floodwood, population 503) with two big communities (Chisholm, population 4,960, and Hibbing, population 17,071) in the district.

DFL-endorsed candidate and Iron Range attorney Carly Melin easily won the primary with 50 percent of the votes. The 25-year-old is from Hibbing.

I’m not going to pretend that I am informed about northeastern Minnesota politics or the DFL candidates (other than my cousin) who vied for the office vacated by Tony Sertich, the newly-appointed commissioner for the Iron Range Resources and Rehabilitation Board.

But I can tell you that Jeff, like his great grandfather, grandfather and father (my Uncle Harold) before him, is living a legacy of service. He cares about rural and small-town Minnesota. Jeff’s length of public service (nearly 20 years) speaks volumes to me about his dedication to making life better for Minnesotans.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

We don’t “need” new stadiums February 2, 2011

I’VE ABOUT HAD IT with Minnesota sports teams thinking taxpayers should help them finance construction of new stadiums.

First the University of Minnesota got their new TCF Stadium. Then the Twins got Target Field.

And, as we know, the Minnesota Vikings have been pushing for a new stadium for years.

The St. Paul Saints have now hopped on the gotta-have-a-new-stadium bandwagon and are proposing a $45 million facility in downtown St. Paul, subsidized, of course, by taxpayer dollars.

Over at Target Center in Minneapolis, a proposal is now on the table to make $150 million in renovations to that building, home to the Timberwolves.

Come on, team owners, athletes, government officials, lobbyists, etc., have you heard of budget shortfalls, the bad economy, unemployment, struggling to make ends meet, high healthcare costs, high gas prices, high food prices, etc.?

I have no time, none, to listen to your list of so-called “needs.” You might “want” a new stadium, but in these difficult economic times, when the average Minnesotan is struggling, you don’t “need” a new stadium.

Here are some real needs:

  • Jobs (and pu….lease don’t tell me stadium projects will create new jobs; those are temporary)
  • Affordable healthcare
  • A decent wage for those who work long, hard hours to provide for themselves and their families (no multi-million dollar contracts here)
  • Lower gas prices
  • Better highways in outstate Minnesota (ever drive Minnesota Highway 3 between Faribault and Northfield or U.S. Highway 14 between Mankato and New Ulm?)

Readers, what’s your opinion on the whole gotta-have-a-new-stadium issue? Choose to agree or disagree with me, but you better have a really, really good reason for supporting a new stadium if that’s your stance.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Stressing over a home improvement project

I DON’T LIKE CHANGE.

I dislike chaos and disorder.

I delay making decisions when I’m not confident about the topic that needs deciding.

So you might rightfully guess that a home improvement project would throw me for a loop. It has. It is.

For some time now, we’ve been dealing with a project that put five new windows and a new door into our aging home. Of course, in an old house like ours, issues arise. New windows didn’t fit quite like the old ones, necessitating lumber and sheetrock patching. That means I’ll need to repaint. More decisions. More work.

There are issues with the new door, which are in the process of being resolved.

I am stressed and I really shouldn’t be. I mean, it’s not like we’re building a house.

But all of the decisions, the upheaval, the time away from writing, are wearing on me.

Every day for nearly two weeks I’ve pulled on my old faded blue jeans, one of my husband’s discarded t-shirts and headed upstairs to a spare bedroom to stain and varnish wood trim. Foot upon foot upon foot of wood. Sand and stain and varnish. Sand between coats and varnish each piece of wood three times.

Here's just a sampling of the wood trim I've stained and varnished during the past two weeks.

After about the third day of breathing stain and varnish fumes, and, honestly, “tasting” the toxins, I began wearing a dusk mask. I also left an upstairs window open. Yes, even on 20-degree days.

Yesterday I finished varnishing the last eight pieces of wood, until the carpenter brings me more wood for the door threshold. Oh, joy, more trim to prepare for installation.

I'm into my second quart of varnish. Every piece of wood gets three coats of polyurethane varnish.

But I keep telling myself I am saving us hundreds of dollars by staining the 75 pieces of wood and varnishing each three times. Hundreds. Of dollars.

That’s good because the money goes fast when you’re house-improving. For a frugal person like me, such spending doesn’t come easily.

I’m struggling, too, with choosing a color for the living room walls, which need to be painted before the carpenters nail the window and door trim in place. This is causing me great angst as evidenced in the endless paint swatches I’ve plucked from displays in three stores. I think now that I’ve narrowed the color down to two choices. I need to decide because once the sheetrock mudding is done, we’re ready to paint.

I've picked up way too many paint cards, further confusing me. I'm leaning toward "Whole Wheat," a warm color from Sherwin Williams with a golden tint. Anybody have that color on their walls?

My living room is a mess with wood piled in front of the TV, our bed headboard in the corner next to a bucket of sheetrock mud. A canvas covers the carpet in front of the new picture window and cardboard leans against the wall. Two white showers curtains serve as temporary window drapes…

I don’t even bother to put away the vacuum cleaners any more.

A corner of my living room. I'm not showing you any other rooms, some of which are also in disarray due to this "project."

P.S. To those of you who drive by our house daily, yes, we are getting new siding on the front. It’s tough living on a fish bowl busy street where “everyone” sees what you’re doing.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The numbers are in at Minnesota Prairie Roots February 1, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:46 AM
Tags: , , , , ,

DEAR MINNESOTA PRAIRIE ROOTS READERS:

Today, if I possessed excess cash, I would send you all a dozen roses or the best chocolate in the world or…, well, you get the point.

But I am not rich in the monetary sense, so you will have to settle for words to express my gratitude.

I am thankful to you, dear readers, for pushing my monthly blog readership to a new high. During January, I had exactly 10,334 views, surpassing my previous record of 9,976 views in November.

And, no, the extra day in January did not skew figures. I had already reached 10,000 views on January 30.

 

This bar graph shows my views for the past eight months at Minnesota Prairie Roots. The horizontal graph lines indicate increments of 2,500, beginning with zero at the bottom and progressing here to 10,000.

I’ve been watching my stats, waiting for the month when I would reach 10,000 views. Don’t ask me why. It simply seems like an impressive number.

The past five months, in fact, my readership has consistently been at 9,500 views and higher, but just under 10,000.

So today I am celebrating. I am celebrating you, my readers, wherever you are—whether in Finland or Germany, Washington state or Washington D.C., up north or down south, in Minneapolis or St. Paul, in Appleton, Minnesota, or Appleton, Wisconsin, in my community of Faribault…

Whether you know me personally or know me only through my blogging, I appreciate the connection.

I hope that through my writing and photography I’ve made you smile, made you think, made you laugh and even made you cry. I hope I’ve taken you to places you may not otherwise have seen. I hope I’ve entertained and informed.

Please continue to share your reactions to my writing. I value your input. If you’ve never commented, do.

I pledge to continue bringing you stories from my life, from my world, from my heart, from my thoughts.

Writing is my passion.

My dusty, dirty and well-used computer keyboard.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Nettie January 31, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:48 AM
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I WANTED TO BELIEVE HER—that her husband died eight months ago in a car accident, that she has cancer, that she has two teens at home, that she believed God led her to my church.

But I didn’t quite know what to think of the woman who walked into Trinity Lutheran Church between services Sunday morning. She was dressed nicely, although her light-weight coat didn’t seem warm enough for winter weather. Her fingers felt ice-cold as she extended her hand to shake mine and introduced herself as Nettie.

I offered her some coffee and orange juice, some doughnuts.

She declined and, instead, through lips lined with plum lipstick that matched her scarf, asked to speak with a pastor.

While my husband went to find a pastor, Nettie volunteered her story. I hadn’t probed, hadn’t asked, she simply told me about her dead husband, her cancer, the kids back home in Minneapolis, her need for money, the direction from God.

She spoke politely, warmly and with ease, her voice smooth as honey. I could easily imagine her praising God in a southern Baptist church choir.

All the while she spoke, I wondered. Was she telling the truth?

Had she really gone to the Salvation Army and the Red Cross and had those organizations turned down her requests for help?

Had she really, as she told me, just hopped in her car that morning and started driving, ending up in Faribault, at my church?

About that time, the pastor arrived and I introduced the two. They walked to a quiet area of the narthex, to talk, and, I could see, to pray.

A short while later Nettie walked out the door, into the cold.

I knew she hadn’t gotten the money she requested.

Today, more than 24 hours later, the entire scene replays in my mind. Should I have asked more questions? Could I, should I, have done more for Nettie?

Was she being truthful?

Did I fail Nettie?

And why am I so bothered by this encounter?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Obsessed with oranges January 29, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:41 AM
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Ever since my friend Kathy told me about orange "smiles," I've eaten oranges this way. No struggling to remove the peeling. Just slice and eat. The fruit easily separates from the rind.

EVER CRAVE A SPECIFIC food for days, even weeks?

Lately, I’ve craved oranges.

Now that’s a healthy alternative to the chips and chocolate I sometimes often desire.

While I can’t pinpoint the exact reasons for my orange obsession, I can theorize. This has been a long and snowy winter in Minnesota. When I see and feel and taste an orange, I temporarily escape to a warm, sunny climate like Florida or California. Seriously. If you live in Minnesota, you know exactly what I mean.

Keep sliced oranges handy in the fridge for a quick and healthy snack.

And then there’s the color. Orange. It’s sunny, bright, uplifting. After way too many wake-up-in-the-dark and dark-by-five-o’clock days, I need an orb of cheerfulness to stave off a potential case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. Orange is, after all, opposite blue the blues on the color wheel.

Juicy oranges quench thirst and provide Vitamin C.

Oranges also quench my seemingly endless thirst. That thirst, I concluded, is related to my dried out skin which is caused by the furnace running too much and drying out the air during these endless winter days. True or not, a juicy orange hits the spot.

About now you’re probably thinking, what the heck, is this an advertisement for the California Citrus Growers Association or the Florida Orange Growers?

No, rather these are the musings of a winter-weary Minnesotan who tastes summer in an orange.

P.S. I will accept any and all free shipments of oranges to my snow-encased Faribault home. Thank you.

 

Yes, I became obsessed also with photographing oranges. But this fruit photographs so well, don't you think?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling