Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

From the perspective of a former reporter: Thoughts after The Capital Gazette shootings June 30, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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I’M A FORMER NEWSPAPER reporter and photographer. As such, the killings of five employees in The Capital Gazette newsroom just days ago affects me in a way it may not non-journalists.

The single phrase that repeated through my mind: He (the suspect) really did kill the messengers (newspaper employees). The alleged shooter apparently held a grudge against the Gazette for writing about his conviction for stalking a woman.

Too often I’ve heard people attack and criticize reporters for doing their jobs of reporting the news. Journalists are blamed for whatever is negative. It’s an unfair accusation. Do not kill the messenger. The reporter did not cause the bad thing that now banners the newspaper.

If journalists report only the good news or whatever is spun to them, then they are nothing more than pawns, propaganda tools, mouthpieces. These are difficult times to be a journalist with the constant spewing of the words “fake news” and open hostility and name-calling at the highest levels of government. Democracy needs a free and open press. The press is not the enemy.

I experienced firsthand efforts to suppress my reporting while working in the profession decades ago. In small town Minnesota. How dare I attend a school board meeting and quote a teacher who didn’t want his comment, made at an open, public meeting, printed. My editor backed me up. But I had to endure the ire of that teacher and his superintendent for the rest of my stay in that rural community.

Likewise, a prominent businessman in the same county seat town harassed me for quoting him at a city planning meeting. When I moved to another job with a regional daily working in a satellite news bureau, I encountered the same hostility from a superintendent who didn’t like my story on a student walk-out. He treated me with absolute contempt, behavior which I found (and still find) totally unprofessional for an educator.

Then there was the sheriff’s department employee who wanted to withhold public information from me when I was gathering facts in a drug case.

There are those who will argue that the media deserve the contempt and criticism heaped on them. There are those who will say media people are nothing but a bunch of biased liberals. There are those who will blame journalists for anything and everything. Everyone is entitled to an opinion in a free country. Not all journalists are fair or balanced in their reporting. I agree with that.

But I also come from that perspective of working in the news profession. I know how hard I worked (long and odd hours with low pay) to accurately and fairly gather and report the news. I cared that I got the story right. I think most journalists do.

A reporter at the Gazette tweeted after the shootings: “I can tell you this: We are putting out a damn paper tomorrow.” That tweet shows remarkable strength when a man with a gun has just killed the messengers in a Maryland newsroom.

© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Looking for farm work June 29, 2018

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A southwestern Minnesota cornfield. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

BEAN WALKERS and detasslers. I haven’t thought about those two farm jobs in a long time. Because I’d rather forget those summer jobs that found me laboring as a pre-teen and teen in the fields of southern Minnesota. Intense heat and humidity made those hours in corn and soybean fields nearly intolerable. But it was a way to earn money in rural Minnesota back in the 1960s and 1970s.

 

 

And still today apparently. I was surprised to read a recent ad placed in a south central Minnesota shopper by crews looking for work pulling weeds in soybean fields, detasseling corn and picking rocks. Yes, I picked rocks from farm fields, too.

 

Bins peek above a cornfield between Faribault and Dundas. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

Hire on to any of those jobs and you will understand hard physical labor. I realize conditions have improved since I yanked tassels, hoed cockle-burrs and heaved rocks from fields. But still, that farm work isn’t easy.

Tell me, have you ever worked any of those three farm jobs? Or tell me about a summer job you worked as a teen. What did it teach you?

© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

What’s the point of this message from Blue Point? June 28, 2018

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SOMETIMES I WONDER, what don’t I understand? What am I not getting here?

 

 

Isn’t it obvious that when you want to drink a bottle of beer, you need to twist or pop off the cap?

 

 

Maybe it’s an attempt at creative and memorable marketing via humor. That must be the reason New York-based Blue Point Brewing prints Please Remove Bottle Cap Before Drinking on a bottle neck label. Website content convinces me this may be the case. I’m not amused by some of the words published there. But then I’m not a New York brewer.

 

 

Now take a turn. Tell me why you think Please Remove Bottle Cap Before Drinking is printed on Blue Point bottles. Or tell me about an off-the-wall message you’ve read on a label or on packaging.

© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Healing & hospital humor, Part II June 26, 2018

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Me, the day before surgery, with my hair cut easy-care short. The praying woman oil painting behind me was done by my friend Rhody Yule (now deceased) and hangs on my living room wall.

 

SURGERY DONE. CHECK.

Healing and recovery. In progress.

With a plate screwed into my broken left wrist during surgery Monday morning at District One Hospital Allina Health, Faribault, I am now moving toward mending the bone I broke after falling on rain-slicked wooden steps at a friends’ house 10 days ago.

This marks my second simultaneous summer with a broken bone In late May 2017, I missed the bottom step on a hospital stairway, plunged into the concrete floor and broke my right shoulder. And, yes, that would be the very same hospital where I underwent surgery yesterday morning. That May evening a year ago, I was on my way to donate blood. Yesterday a nurse asked if I would accept a transfusion if needed. I didn’t require one. But the nurse wondered aloud if you get free units of blood if you’re a donor. Nope, not that I know.

 

 

Her comment sparked from a document I created on my computer and brought to the hospital for my surgeon yesterday. Dr. Bryan Armitage has a great sense of humor or I wouldn’t have crafted the Frequent Flyer Discount card I handed to him. He was ready with a quick suggestion to submit my “one free surgery after 10 visits” card to the billing department given he just does the surgery. I persuaded him to accept the card, which he intends to hang above his office desk.

You have to find humor in a serious situation. And, believe me, I needed laughter yesterday prior to surgery.

On a serious note, I am grateful for the skills, compassion and care of my entire medical team. Seasoned nurse Kris and about to graduate nurse Shelby provided excellent pre op and post op care. And there’s that I just do the surgery orthopedic surgeon who worked his magic. I am grateful to all the reassuring (no, you won’t be awake during surgery, I promise) staff who cared for me during my six-hour outpatient hospital stay.

And I am grateful to my husband, Randy, for his attentive and loving care. He’s the best.

Likewise, I appreciate the many prayers and well wishes; cards, gifts and food sent and delivered (thanks, especially, to my niece Amber for the meals); and for the flowers from my wonderful husband. I feel so loved.

 

Me, several hours after surgery. I’m so happy to have more of my fingers exposed.

Other than being overly tired and experiencing some pain, swelling and tingling, I am doing remarkably well. Given my dislike of pain meds, I am taking only the minimum dosage paired with icing and elevating. That plan is working thus far.

That’s the latest from here as I continue in recovery mode.

One more thing: I weighed 20 pounds less on the hospital surgery scale than I did on the ER scale nine days prior. Vindicated for the third time. Read all about that miraculous weight loss by clicking here.

© copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Sweet love June 24, 2018

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HE TOLD ME TO EXPECT a package. Next week. But the priority mail box arrived from Massachusetts on Saturday. I was almost certain the techie son had shipped a one-handed keyboard, even though I told him I didn’t need one. I don’t as I can manage with one-handed typing until I recover from my broken left arm.

 

 

But I was wrong. Inside I found a surprise so sweet that I cried. I cried at the thoughtfulness of Caleb and his girlfriend, who had baked chocolate chunk cookies for me. Thick cookies with dark chocolate, my favorite chocolate. The best chocolate (chip) cookies I have ever eaten.

Turns out Caleb messaged his oldest sister earlier in the week for my cookie recipe. She didn’t have it and sent another recipe instead. I love these cookies.

Even more, I love that Caleb and Sunny thought of me and took the time to bake this gift. It was perfect. Such love and care cannot be bought, only given in an act of love.

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TO MY MANY FAITHFUL READERS (friends), thank you for your prayers, encouragement and well wishes as I deal with this injury and pending surgery. Your words are a gift. I am grateful.

© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The not-at-all amusing topic of domestic violence June 22, 2018

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I took a photo of this photo at a domestic violence awareness event in Faribault. The word STOP and outstretched hand (exactly how I landed, palm down when I fell) hold double meaning as it relates to this post. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

PERHAPS I’M MORE SENSITIVE than many people on the subject. But I have personal reasons for my feelings about domestic abuse. Many women who are friends or family have been directly or indirectly affected by domestic abuse or violence. Some of those victims are dead. Shot. Beaten. Attacked. Dead. (Click here. Here. Here. And here.

So when someone sees my broken left forearm, laughs and suggests that my husband assaulted me, I get angry. Inside. I try to react with words that are kind, yet clearly reveal that I am not amused. There is nothing even remotely funny about domestic violence or any violence against a human being.

 

A snippet of a domestic violence poster published by the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod. File image.

 

I understand the medical personnel who ask me to repeat the story of my fall. It’s their job to be aware of possible domestic violence, sometimes hidden by the victim. They need to look for inconsistencies in my story, especially since I fell and broke my right shoulder just a year ago (while at the hospital to donate blood).

But I want to state here, publicly, that my husband of 36 years has never abused me. Ever. To suggest that in jest offends me. I heard the “humorous” accusations last year against Randy and now I’m hearing them again. Not funny.

 

Domestic violence cycle of abuse as photographed at a local awareness event. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

That said, if you sincerely suspect a friend or family member has been abused in any way, don’t ignore what your gut, your observations, are telling you. Seek professional advice at a women’s shelter or advocacy center so you can help. Likewise, I urge you, if you are an abuse victim, to seek help. You deserve to live a life free of any type of abuse.

There, I got that out.

 

© copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Good news, bad news June 21, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:01 AM
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GOOD NEWS: I really do weigh less than the scale at District One Hospital in Faribault registered during my ER visit last Saturday morning. During a weigh-in at an orthopedic appointment Wednesday, I weighed the same as I do on my scale at home. That’s 17 pounds less than I weighed just days ago on the ER scale. I feel so vindicated.

Now for the bad news. I need surgery on my broken left radius. The news came as a surprise given I was told in the ER that I didn’t need surgery. That just goes to show the importance of a follow-up visit with a specialist. Outpatient surgery will be Monday. I’ll leave with a permanent plate screwed in place. Surgery seemed the best option for the best outcome.

It’s not a particularly major surgery, but surgery none-the-less. And I don’t much like surgery. (This will mark my eighth.) But who does?

There you go. I welcome all prayers for an uncomplicated and successful surgery and recovery, for full and prompt healing, and for patience. Words of encouragement are also appreciated. And hot dish if you live close enough to deliver one. Just had to throw in that, oh, so Minnesotan angle…

© copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

the power of laughter in healing June 20, 2018

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THE BEST MEDICINE for my days’ old injury of a broken left forearm came not in prescription pain medication, which I never picked up. Rather, it came in laughter, perhaps the best medicine of all.

First the backstory. On the day of my fall, Randy and I intended to head to our eldest daughter and son-in-law’s home an hour distant to babysit our granddaughter. Those same plans had been in place a week prior. But then I developed a bad upper respiratory infection and canceled. So I was especially excited about the rescheduled time with two-year-old Isabelle. Then I slipped on those rain-slicked wooden steps and broke my radius and…

Thankfully Izzy and her parents came to visit us the day after my fall. I wasn’t feeling all that great given only one hour of sleep Saturday night and a high pain level. But Izzy proved a good distraction. As we visited and Izzy played, she stumbled over a ball. Given the awkwardness of the tumble and her subsequent tears, I worried for a second. But she seemed ok, as in nothing broken.

 

One authentic broken arm, one not. Photo by Randy.

 

I asked Isabelle if she wanted her arm wrapped like Grandma. I expected a no. But Izzy said, yes, so Dr. Grandpa gathered supplies and wrapped her arm. Of course, we needed pictures, after Izzy pointed at my bandaged arm and then hers and counted, one, two.

We all laughed. Really laughed. Laughter is good. It releases endorphins, which my retired ER nurse friend Diane says promote healing. And I’m all about healing, especially the natural healing powers of a granddaughter’s sweet empathy.

 

Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hospital humor June 19, 2018

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My splinted and bandaged broken left arm, elevated.

 

I DON’T WANT TO DWELL on the case of the broken arm. But I thought you would appreciate some humor related to my recent fall and subsequent left radius break. I need to laugh about ruining two simultaneous summers or I’d feel overwhelmingly blue.

Let’s start with my ER visit. I offer high praise to the staff of Allina Health District One Hospital in Faribault for the wonderful care. And I love the newly redone ER, which offers way more patient privacy.

But I don’t love the scale or the importance of securing my health insurance card, photo ID and weight before getting me a room and medical attention. Upon my arrival shortly before noon on Saturday, I wanted only to keep from passing out (due to hyperventilating) and to get relief from my pain. But first things first. Get this woman a wheelchair. Get the necessary info and then wheel her onto a scale. I expect this is all procedural protocol. But when you’re in excruciating pain, you wanted help yesterday and your weight does not seem particularly important.

 

My bathroom scale. Accurate or not?

 

About now, you’re thinking there’s nothing humorous in this story. Ah, but there is. The hospital scale showed me weighing nearly 20 pounds more than my scale at home. I told the nurse so. She ignored my protest and recorded the weight. I was mad. Later I would weigh myself at home. The difference—17 pounds. I expect maybe a several-pound difference. But almost 20 pounds? I lost 20 pounds more than a year ago and have managed to keep off that weight. I weigh myself regularly. And my clothes still have a much looser fit. Plus, the scale is relatively new and has matched weights from previous clinic visits.

My husband just laughs. Although he agrees that the hospital scale is way off (or he’d be 17 pounds heavier, too), he laughs at how mad I am about it. As the saying goes, don’t add insult to injury. Literally.

PLEASE CHECK BACK tomorrow for another humorous take on my broken arm story.

Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Here we go again June 18, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:57 AM
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ALL I CAN DO is laugh because it’s unbelievable.

For the second summer in a row, I am recovering from a broken bone, And, yes, just like last year when I broke my right shoulder, my latest break involved steps. Saturday morning, while descending wide rain-slicked wooden steps to pick rhubarb in friends’ backyard, I slipped. Just like that, landed on my butt, palms outstretched to break my fall. I never considered the steps may be slippery from the morning rain. Nor, apparently, did the two men who preceded me down the stairway.

The intense pain in my left hand, and its rather deformed shape led to an immediate self-diagnosis of a broken bone. I didn’t need to hear the husband’s, Your hand looks funny. But then he and our friend probably didn’t appreciate my repetitious not again and a bad word I spoke.

I don’t recall much about our drive across Faribault to the ER except urging Randy to drive faster. He replied that he needed to obey traffic laws. Well, if you insist.

After some 2.5 hours in the ER–I was bumped to position two out of eight patients–I was back home with my left arm newly-splinted and tightly wrapped in a trio of bandages. The good  news–the break of my left radius was clean with no surgery needed. For you non-medical types, and that includes me, the break is in my forearm right above my wrist. Yes, I’m still in pain. Yes, my arm from elbow to fingertips is swollen. And, yes, I feel like my splinted arm/hand/fingers are gripped in a vise.

Later this week I see my wonderful ortho doctor, at which time I will request a frequent flyer discount. He’ll laugh. Dr. Armitage has a great sense of humor and I really do like him. Eventually, I’ll get a cast.

And eventually I will be able to type two-handed again and use my camera. For now, my blogging will be limited. For all you language purists, you will have to excuse the errors in my writing. Remember, I am typing with one hand, uh, mostly one finger. It is slow and tedious. I’m hoping I can still complete some freelance writing obligations by deadline.

To my husband, I am sorry for ruining a second summer in a row. Thank you for all the extras you are now doing. You are patient even when I snap at you due to pain and lack of sleep.

To the staff at Allina Health District One Hospital, especially Clare, Michelle, Vanessa, Sam, Sandy, and the others whose names I didn’t catch, thank you for your kind, attentive and compassionate care. We are blessed to have these medical professionals working at this hospital in our community.

I will close for today as I need to elevate and ice my arm.

But just one more thing–that rhubarb never got picked.

copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling