Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Quite the ride June 28, 2023

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This battery-powered T-Rex was my son’s toy. It roared, turned its head, moved its arms and flashed its red eyes. My grandkids were terrified of it at one time. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

IF YOU HAD JUST DISEMBARKED a roller coaster only to see a T-Rex chomping up the tracks and roaring towards you, would you trust that you would survive?

So what does this have to do with anything relevant to today and, well, to me? Lots.

Last week my vestibular rehab therapist changed things up a bit. He led me from our usual private meeting room down the hall to a more spacious room with a large screen TV, a table, chairs, toys, a dollhouse and some type of exercise equipment I couldn’t identify.

“Yeah, I get to play,” I exclaimed to Ryan.

WE’RE GOING TO DO WHAT?

He had other things in mind. “You’re going to ride a roller coaster,” he said. I looked at him in disbelief and then with fear as he pulled out a virtual reality headset.

“I don’t like roller coasters,” I stated. That is true. The last one I rode was nearly 50 years ago. The Woody at Arnold’s Park in Spencer, Iowa. They called it The Woody back then for a reason. Built in 1930, this is the 13th oldest wooden roller coaster in the world. And this amusement ride was, for me, absolutely terrifying as the cars clacked up and down and around the tracks.

I also have minimal exposure to VR, having tried my son’s headset once and experiencing great difficultly in navigating anything. Simply being in a virtual world proved uncomfortable and disorienting.

So when Ryan mentioned roller coaster and VR in the same sentence, I felt my angst rise. But I recognized that he was serious and that this was just one more effort to retrain my brain by exposing me to motion and to noise in an attempt to manage symptoms resulting from vestibular neuritis, Meniere’s Disease and peripheral sensory neuropathy.

REMIND ME, WHICH BUTTONS DO I PUSH?

Alright then. Ryan set up the computer program, tightened the headset on my head, then handed me the controls, instructing me on which buttons to push. He told me to point the laser at the triangle to start the ride. I couldn’t even manage that as my hands shook. I failed at multiple attempts to use the hand controls, so eventually my patient PT took over. Young people can manage tech stuff far better than aging Baby Boomers like me.

Soon I was on the dreaded roller coaster, riding up and down and all around while noise roared. It was a lot of visual and auditory stimuli as intended. Curves and the roar of a waterfall proved the most challenging. Almost immediately I asked to sit. But when I grew more comfortable, Ryan had me standing with my hand touching the back of a chair to help me feel grounded. I took multiple breaks.

OH, NO, THERE’S MORE!

When I thought a roller coaster ride was surprise enough, yet more awaited me. I soon noticed dinosaurs lurking in the background. Then a Tyrannosaurus separated from the herd and began chomping the track, moving at a ferocious pace directly towards me.

“My granddaughter would love this,” I said in the midst of all that chaos, then corrected myself. “Well, maybe not.” Isabelle, 7, loves dinosaurs but even this teeth-baring meat eater might scare her.

In the end, I survived. Both the T-Rex and the roller coaster. Ryan was pleased with my ability to mostly handle the stimuli. Now I wonder what he has planned for physical therapy tomorrow?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Repeat again, oh, yeah, that’s redundant June 27, 2023

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At the intersection of Minnesota State Highway 21 and Seventh Street in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

LOOK UP THE WORD “big” in my 2003 Webster’s New World Thesaurus (which really isn’t all that new), and I find the word “huge.” I am not surprised. These are synonyms, something the average person would likely understand.

But apparently not everyone recognizes the sameness. Like the person who recently posted a BIG HUGE SALE sign at a busy Faribault intersection.

Writer and English minor that I am, I noted the message redundancy. Then I took a photo through the windshield from the right passenger side of our 2005 Dodge Caravan (which is nearly as old as my thesaurus).

If anything, the sign creator accomplished his/her objective and that was to get passersby to take notice. I hope the sale was a BIG HUGE success.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The dance goes on June 23, 2023

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I’ve owned this classical music album since the 1970s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

IT’S BEFORE 8 AM, and I am twirling across my living room to early 18th century classical music playing on a stereo.

You might call this dancing. But, for me, this is an exercise in balance. For two months now I’ve been in physical therapy to help retrain my brain. That followed a diagnosis of vestibular neuronitis in my right ear and Meniere’s Disease in early April. And now I have the added diagnosis of peripheral sensory neuropathy. And more, possibly post-COVID symptoms, even though I’ve never tested positive for the virus. I had a virus in January and all of my symptoms started in the months thereafter.

I have been working really hard to do whatever I can to help my body adapt to the deficits in my brain that stretch well beyond a loss of balance. Thankfully, I can still write. There are many days when I feel frustrated, impatient, overwhelmed, anxious, exhausted, wondering if I will ever feel better. Able to live the life I once lived.

And so I continue this dance. Four steps across the living room floor, turn a 360, four more steps, turn, four more steps and turn again. By the third turn, I am feeling dizzy. Then it’s back twirling the other direction, pausing at the end of each set to regain my balance. Back and forth several times, the energetic music of Johann Ernst von Sachsen Weimar, Francesco Antonio Rosetti and Johann Wilhelm Hertel propels me across the floor.

IMPROVEMENT & DETERMINATION

There was a time early on in my diagnoses when I couldn’t have listened to this music. All I wanted was quiet, minimal auditory input. I worked in physical therapy to build my tolerance to sound. I still struggle with sound and other sensory issues. But I know I’m better than early on. The fact that I can even sit at a computer and type is proof. Early on that was difficult, if not impossible.

I just now paused to turn off that classical music. It was too much after 45 minutes of listening while exercising and now writing. The right side of my head feels as if it’s been slapped. I recognize that as a symptom that I need, in this moment, to calm.

Dealing with these multiple diagnoses feels as much a mental challenge as a physical one. I suppose anyone experiencing a serious health issue would say the same. I try to remain positive and hopeful, but I recognize that, in all reality, feeling upbeat takes effort.

Just like my physical therapy takes effort and commitment. I’m determined to follow through with the exercises my therapist, Ryan, gives me during our weekly sessions. I look forward to therapy because I feel so encouraged and empowered, like there’s something I can do to help myself get better and that I have the strong support of a caring and compassionate professional.

FOCUS, EXERCISE, TRY

And so I continue twirling across my living room. In another exercise, I focus my eyes on an X slashed on a Post It note I’ve placed at eye level on the wall. I keep my eyes on that X as I do figure eights around two containers of therapy putty I kept after breaking my left wrist several years ago. Because I also have diplopia, I see two Xes due to my eyes not tracking together.

Another exercise takes me outdoors to Central Park or the campus of the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf. There I walk along the sidewalk and then on the uneven surface of grass, turning my head from side to side and then up and down. Randy walks near me as my spotter. I invariably veer hard to the left. It’s his job to keep me safe and I am grateful for his loving care and attention.

One of my biggest challenges remains the ability to engage in conversation. Listening and talking for any length of time tax my brain. When my dear aunt phoned the other day from Missouri, I finally had to end the call because my head was hurting so bad. I’m hoping my therapist can give me some exercises that will improve my ability to engage in conversation without experiencing symptoms.

And so I keep trying. I keep dancing, twirling to the early 18th century music of classical composers.

TELL ME: If you’re living with a chronic illness/disease or have dealt with a major health issues, what helped you cope? I’ve found coloring, playing with therapy putty, doing crosswords, lifting hand weights and rocking in the recliner with my eyes closed to be soothing, helpful distractions.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Building the Eiffel Tower in France, then Minnesota June 22, 2023

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Completed 3-D wooden puzzle of the Eiffel Tower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

CONSTRUCTION OF THE EIFFEL TOWER in Paris took two years, two months and five days and a whole lot of engineers and factory and construction workers.

Construction of the Eiffel Tower in Faribault, built by one man, took 30 minutes.

Clearly there’s a difference in what, exactly, was constructed. My supposed-to-be-retired automotive machinist husband assembled a 3D wooden puzzle of the Eiffel Tower by B.C. Bones in a half hour. Information on the puzzle box estimates construction time at 1 to 2 hours. I am not one bit surprised that Randy fit the 32 pieces into a tower in much less time. His mind works that way. He sees a bunch of parts and he immediately envisions how they all work together.

Me? I would still be struggling to build the Eiffel Tower, especially given the missing architectural blueprint in the puzzle box. That and a missing fact file were likely the reasons this 2003 puzzle was in the freebie pile at a Northfield garage sale.

That Randy managed to construct the tower in such a short time and without a cheat sheet blueprint impresses me. But then I am not one who likes puzzles or has the ability to figure out how stuff connects. We each have our talents. Puzzling puzzles is not one of mine.

Now this two foot high tower sits on a vintage chest of drawers in our living room, displayed not as a completed puzzle project, but rather as a work of art. Just like the real tower in Paris, a tourist draw for 7 million annual visitors who appreciate its architectural and artistic beauty.

Engineer Gustave Eiffel designed the tower, built in 1889 to celebrate the Exposition Universelle. The structure reaches 1,083 feet heavenward and weighs 10,100 tons. But the fact I found most interesting on the official Eiffel Tower website was the 2.5 million rivets used in construction. That’s a whole lot of rivets holding the metal pieces in place.

Only slots hold the tight-fitting wooden puzzle together. But it’s amazingly strong and can be carried without falling apart. That gives me some insight into just how strong the real Eiffel Tower was engineered to be.

This garage sale freebie proved an interesting and engaging find. I learned something about architecture and engineering and facts about the Eiffel Tower unknown to me, mostly because I’ve never researched this architectural icon. And for Randy, this puzzle proved easy. For a garage sale freebie, I’d say we got our money’s worth.

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TELL ME: How would you do assembling this 3D puzzle without a blueprint? Do you do puzzles? Have you visited the Eiffel Tower in Paris?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Fiction focus on teens’ mental health with Van Gogh thrown in the mix June 21, 2023

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I NEARLY WALKED OUT of church once during a sermon. The pastor called Vincent Van Gogh “crazy.” Yes, the artist suffered from mental illness. But labeling him as “crazy” did not sit well with me. I find the term derogatory and disrespectful of anyone battling a mental health issue.

So when I picked up a newly-released book, Screw You Van Gogh, by Minnesotan Jeff Howard, I wondered how the Dutch painter would fit into the story line. Turns out the reference to the artist, who battled anxiety and depression, was held in asylums for the insane and eventually committed suicide, proved a good focal point for a story about high school students.

This fictional book, based on real life experiences, is not a feel good story about teenagers. But rather, this story is heavy, heavy with the issues teens face. Depression. Anxiety. Bullying. Relationship struggles. Trauma from abuse. Pressure to do well. And more.

WRITING WITH AUTHENTICITY

The author, a high school counselor for the past 15 years, writes with authenticity. A main character in the book, Michael Burns, is a counselor at Roosevelt High School. Therein comes the Van Gogh reference. Burns has a jigsaw puzzle of the artist’s painting, “Starry Night,” in his office for kids to work on with him. One of those students is Cassidy Towers, 16, new to Masonville, Iowa, and dealing with panic attacks, suicidal thoughts and more.

As the plot unfolds, so does a certain familiarity. This could be a high school anywhere so real are the characters. The popular kids. The quiet ones who follow the rules. The kids who, on the outside, appear not to give a damn about what they say or do, but who are hurting inside, hiding their truth. Like Tommi, who befriends Cassidy. She is in counseling for severe anxiety and depression, a fact she hides from her classmates. “Tommi could not bear the thought of people knowing she was crazy,” Howard writes.

There’s that word, “crazy,” again. But this time it fits because this is the thinking of a high school student with thoughts of suicide that sometimes “crept into her mind like an evil spirit.” As Tommi and Cassidy’s friendship grows, so does Cassidy’s awareness of Tommi’s struggles. She observes the vacant look in her friend’s eyes, her unkempt appearance, her repetitive petting of a kitten, all signs of Tommi’s declining mental health. By this time, Cassidy has worked through her own mental health issues via talking with the high school counselor, an improved relationship with her mother and using tools (like music) to help her cope.

HELP, HOPE & STIGMA

The author, given his professional work as a counselor, includes helpful ways to deal with anxiety, depression and more. Like Cassidy’s use of music. He emphasizes listening, empathy, deep breathing, hope…

He also addresses the ongoing stigma attached to mental illness. In a conversation with Cassidy, fictional counselor Burns talks about Van Gogh and how he grew anxious and depressed after art experts criticized his impressionist style of painting. Van Gogh turned to alcohol. Burns tells Cassidy that people, especially teens, “don’t want to admit they need help because that makes them weird.” And, because of that sometimes people “crash,” he says. That happens in this book, in a tragic way.

HUNTING & HOTDISH

Within all the heaviness of Screw You Van Gogh are the subplots of counselor Burns’ personal life and relationships and then a budding relationship between Cassidy and classmate Patrick, who once called her “a little crazy” and “goofy upstairs.” When the teens eventually go on a first date, it’s not to a movie, but pheasant hunting. That proved a lighthearted moment for me in the reading of this book. Oh, how rural Iowa/Minnesota, I thought. And then when the author threw in Minnesota’s signature tater tot hotdish served in the school cafeteria, I laughed aloud.

This book is authentic through and through and should be read by every teen, every parent, every educator, every counselor… And perhaps every counselor should purchase the jigsaw puzzle “Starry Night” as a tool to get kids to open up about their emotions, experiences, struggles, as Van Gogh did via his painting.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Valuing kids’ art June 20, 2023

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Loving art by Izzy, age seven. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

THOSE OF US WHO HAVE parented or are parenting young children understand how proud kids are of their artwork. They carry drawings and paintings, ceramics and a whole lot of creations home in their backpacks. What to do with all of it?

Toy room gallery space. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

My eldest daughter has created a gallery in the kids’ toy room to display Isabelle and Isaac’s art. Whenever I visit their south metro home, I check out my grandchildren’s wall of art. I ask the 4 ½-year-old and the 7-year-old about the pieces. At their ages, I want them simply to enjoy making art.

Bright flowers jolt color onto the gallery wall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

I have no insider knowledge as to how their preschool and first grade teachers teach art. But I do hope the kids are not simply copycatting an example, but rather have some artistic freedom. I expect, though, that can prove challenging for a teacher with limited time and a classroom full of students.

Combining the visual and literary arts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Whatever, I appreciate that my grandkids are creating. Art hasn’t always been valued when finances are tight in a school district. In the past, the arts have often been the first to get trimmed or cut. I feel like thinking on that has shifted. There’s a realization that we need the arts. Visual. Performing. Literary.

Texture emerges in this bamboo and panda art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
A close-up of a portion of the gallery wall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)
Interactive art: These tent flaps open to reveal a photo of Isaac tucked inside a sleeping bag. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

I cannot imagine a world without the value the arts bring. Value in expression. Value in entertainment. Value in communication. Value in lifting spirits, in bringing joy. Value in thought and sparking conversations. And for the littlest among us, value in hands-on creative learning.

Handprint art to cherish. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

To see my grandchildren’s handprints, imperfect block letter printing, dabs of paint on paper and more is like a glimpse into their life at school and a glimpse at their creativity.

The power of lines in art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

I love that my daughter showcases their work in a family gallery. How encouraging that is to Izzy and Isaac to have their art prominently displayed rather than stashed in a pile or tossed away. And, yes, I realize there’s a point when you can’t keep everything. Then it’s time to photograph the art, give some to loved ones and/or share with seniors in care centers.

Not all art makes the wall. This artsy flowerpot was a Mother’s Day gift. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

But for now, in this moment, that wall of artwork from the past school year reveals that art holds importance in their household. And that makes this creative grandma especially happy.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections on Juneteenth June 19, 2023

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Photographed in August 2018 in a storefront window of a business in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2018)

ON THIS DAY OF CELEBRATION, Juneteenth, I reflect on our nation’s past, on how far we’ve come and how far we have yet to go.

June 19, 1865, marks the day when enslaved people in Texas learned of the Emancipation Proclamation issued by President Abraham Lincoln 2 ½ years earlier. That proclamation freed slaves in Confederate states. It wasn’t until the 13th Amendment to the Constitution was passed in December 1865 that slavery was fully abolished in the entire United States.

Thinking about slavery is difficult. It’s emotionally challenging to consider that some 4 million men, women and children were “owned,” treated like property rather than human beings. Forced to work, forced to live under abusive and oppressive conditions. Without freedom to come and go.

Today the focus is not on the awfulness of slavery, but rather on the move from enslavement to freedom. Thus the celebrations on Juneteenth.

Moving onward as a people and a nation, we need to work harder on respecting one another, no matter our skin color, our social status, our differences. We’ve certainly made strides. But the reality is that we can do better.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A health update: I like savory food, but not this tasty June 17, 2023

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Nothing spicy for me last week. Nope. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

AT 7:11 PM TUESDAY I TEXTED this to my oldest daughter: Do not forget you have super sensitive taste buds & lick an envelope flap. Really bad idea.

I was the one who forgot, not her. I was the one with the hypersensitive taste buds. I was the one who grabbed my bottled water and ran to the bathroom to repeatedly rinse the strong taste from my mouth. I was the one with overly-active taste buds, just another of the many sensory overload symptoms I’ve experienced following a virus in early January.

Of all the past and present symptoms—from imbalance; short-lived vertigo (only when prone): ear ringing, popping and pain and feeling of moisture in my ear; sensitivity to light, sound, smell and touch; feelings of ice water coursing through my body; feeling like I’ve been slapped on the face; headaches; and more I’m likely forgetting right now—this taste issue proved particularly challenging. It landed me in the ER one Thursday afternoon recently with swelling of my tongue and lips and a feeling of my throat closing. That’s scary, darned scary.

Oatmeal with brown sugar, not bananas or any other fruit, was one of the few foods I could eat last week. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

WEARY OF OATMEAL

Thereafter, for the next week, I could eat only bland foods and only small amounts. Oatmeal. Graham crackers. A blueberry proved too intense. So did a grape. It tasted awful. In five days, I lost nine pounds. Not a weigh loss program I recommend. Anything I ate caused an allergic reaction, but thankfully not enough for a return ER visit.

I couldn’t brush my teeth because my taste buds couldn’t tolerate even a non-flavored toothpaste. Toothpaste set my mouth afire. Eventually, after contacting my dentist’s office, I tried baking soda. That tasted like someone dumped a load of salt in my mouth.

I feel like I’m reaching reaching for help as seen in this public art sculpture, “Waist Deep,” photographed in Northfield in 2019. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

JUST WANTING TO BE WELL

To say it was a hellish week would be an understatement. I was scared. Frustrated. Anxious. Wanting answers and hope. More than once, Randy heard me state, “I just want to feel better.” He was patient, encouraging, supportive, as he has been through the past six months of multiple building symptoms.

Back at the end of May already, I noticed toothpaste seemed especially minty. I told two of the doctors I was seeing of this occasional taste oddity. That went nowhere and perhaps I did not push the point enough. And then came that Thursday afternoon ER trip and my taste buds run amok.

This art by Faribault eighth grader Mohamed represents how I feel regarding my overstimulated senses. This art was shown at a student art show earlier this year. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)

TIME TO CALM THOSE NERVES IN MY BRAIN

It was at my ER follow-up visit with my primary care doctor that I found hope in a physician with deep compassion and care. I could see both in his eyes, hear both in his words. He pledged to try what he could to help me. He prescribed a medication to help calm the overactive nerves in my brain which control the senses. After one dose, I was already feeling relief. My taste buds are back to normal. I can eat without feeling like the food I just put in my mouth is starting a fire. No more throat, tongue or lip swelling. If it continues to work, and I have no reason to think otherwise, then I am grateful.

A THEORY, GUESS OR WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT

This is all a bit of a guessing game, a try and see what works process. Even my family doctor’s diagnosis of peripheral sensory neuropathy seems a best guess. The sensory part fits for sure. His theory is that the virus I had in January was COVID, even though I self-tested negative twice for the virus. Those home tests, he said, can be inaccurate if the tester doesn’t quite do things right. I am beginning to believe more and more that he’s right, that I am experiencing post-COVID symptoms.

A page from Eric Carle’s book, From Head to Toe. I ought to frame this page and hang it in my office. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

PHYSICAL THERAPY CONTINUES

I continue with vestibular rehab therapy to retrain my brain to compensate for the irreversibly-damaged 8th vestibular nerve in my right ear. That nerve controls balance. My initial diagnoses of vestibular neuritis and Meniere’s Disease (due to hearing loss caused by a virus in 2011) remain.

All of this is a lot. These are diseases that I must learn to live with and manage. I have good days and bad. But I am determined, working hard at therapy, getting out and about to build up my sensory tolerance. A recent attempt to dine out at a restaurant proved overwhelming. But I managed a dental cleaning with a sensory accommodating hygienist. A trip to a big box store nearly proved too much given the music, the people, all the visual stuff. I managed an outdoor concert with an ear plug in my good ear. I struggled to get through a meeting with a financial planner when I had to listen closely and engage in conversation. I am beginning to understand my limits, yet try to push myself just over, to challenge myself without experiencing full-blown symptoms.

These roses are for you, dear blog readers, for your kindness, compassion and support. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

WITH GRATITUDE

Onward I go. I want to pause and thank you, my dear readers, for your ongoing encouragement and support. I’ve needed both, welcomed both, felt so very loved. I am grateful. I told Randy, “I have the best blog readers!” You are. The best.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reminded of the importance of farmers June 16, 2023

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Hy-Vee in Faribault grilled pork burgers outside its patio area on Thursday with a tractor parked nearby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

I LUNCHED YESTERDAY with a guy from northern Rice County who farms and runs an auto body repair shop. The shop is Andy’s primary business with crop farming secondary. He rents out some of his acreage, tending only his alfalfa field. He has plenty of customers for his hay. Mostly people with horses and dairy goats, he said.

This massive tractor provided photo ops outside Faribault’s Hy-Vee grocery store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Before Thursday, I’d never met Andy. But I asked if Randy and I could join him at a patio table outside Faribault’s Hy-Vee. The grocer was serving free pork burgers, chips and bottled water as part of its “Feed the Farmers that Feed America” event. The Iowa-based supermarket chain is working with Feeding America-affiliated food banks to help end hunger. A donation jar was filling with bills.

A farm site north of Faribault, photographed from Interstate 35. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2023)

Events like this remind me just how important agriculture is to all of us. Without farmers, we’d be hard-pressed to feed ourselves. Or at least I would since I don’t have a garden or animals or anything except two broccoli plants started from seed by my 4-year-old grandson.

A tractor waits at a stoplight aside other traffic on busy Minnesota State Highway 21, just off Interstate 35 in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Events like this remind me also that agriculture is an important part of my community. Farm fields surround Faribault. Tractors rumble through town, sometimes past my house.

Parked at the Hy-Vee event, a corn (and beer) themed ATV. Guests enjoy free pork burgers on the patio. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Although I was raised on a crop and dairy farm, I don’t always consider how agriculture impacts us in our daily lives. Without farmers working the land, tending crops, the shelves at HyVee and other grocery stores would be empty. Farmers’ markets wouldn’t exist. And I’d be really hungry because, as much as I like broccoli, that’s not enough to quell my hunger.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Exploring historic Oak Ridge, more than just a cemetery June 15, 2023

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Sign on the Oak Ridge Cemetery limestone crypt. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

THEY ARE PLACES of sorrow, of history, of art, of beauty. Of stories, too. They are cemeteries.

Trees fill the historic Oak Ridge Cemetery in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Decades ago, as a child, I feared cemeteries, thinking about the bodies buried in caskets beneath the ground. The unexpected death of my paternal grandfather when I was not quite eight shaped my thoughts then of graveyards. But my thinking and perspectives changed as I aged until I felt comfortable walking in a cemetery. I had accepted death.

The natural beauty of Oak Ridge, especially the oaks, is one of the things I most appreciate. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Today, exploring cemeteries is an activity I enjoy. I appreciate all they hold. Oak Ridge Cemetery, set on rolling hills on Faribault’s northwest side just off Second Avenue NW/Minnesota State Highway 3, is among the countless graveyards I’ve walked.

An informational sign about Levi Nutting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

It’s Faribault’s first cemetery, incorporated in 1857, five years after the town was founded. The death of his 26-year-old wife, Mary, on Christmas Day 1856 prompted Levi Nutting to lead founding of an official cemetery. Nutting was a man of prominence. As an early area settler, he helped shape his community, serving as mayor and Rice County commissioner. Nutting also held several state government offices, including that of a senator.

Nutting family grave markers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Levi and many other Nuttings lie buried beneath the soil at Oak Ridge among the oaks and spruce and maple. This place feels like a hilltop island of peacefulness. Not that it’s quiet here. But a sense of calm and serenity in this spot of remarkable natural beauty prevails.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

History also infuses Oak Ridge, not only in names on gravestones, but also on informational plaques scattered throughout the grounds.

The burial spot of a Civil War veteran, flagged for Memorial Day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
Civil War veteran Michael Cook’s marker details his death. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

There are a whole lot of long ago dates inscribed in stone. The first known burial here was in 1850, before cemetery incorporation. Men who fought in the Civil and Spanish American Wars lie here. So do legislators, business leaders, farmers, paupers, immigrants and more, according to the Oak Ridge website.

Loving words on a husband and wife’s tombstone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

“IN THEIR DEATH THEY WERE NOT DIVIDED” reads the message on the headstone of Rodney A. Mott and Mary Ripley Mott.

Markers like this can be purchased for unmarked graves. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Hannah Jane Rockwell’s marker, installed through Oak Ridge’s Sponsor a Marker for an Unmarked Grave Program, simply lists her name, birth and death dates, and then the loving words, “Mother to 10.”

A message written in a notebook at Jeremy’s grave. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Jeremy J. Weber’s black tombstone, still shiny with newness, is surrounded by expressions of recent grief. The 34-year-old father of three died in 2021. A waterproof case includes a notebook for messages and memories. Words written therein are loving, heartbreaking.

Beautiful urn art graces a grave. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Grief is undeniably here. I read that, see that, feel that. But I also feel the love. These were individuals with families who loved them and whom they loved. These were individuals who were valued personally and/or professionally. They were, above all, human beings who held a special place on this earth.

Fitting for Oak Ridge, oak leaves on a tombstone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Cemeteries reveal all of this, if only we take the time to walk among the tombstones, aged and new. Inscriptions, art, names, dates, memorabilia and flowers placed graveside all tell stories. That is the beauty within the boundaries of a cemetery like Oak Ridge, which rises high above a city founded 171 years ago, the place where Levi Nutting moved with his family in 1855, a year later his young wife dead.

The historic limestone pumphouse sits atop the hill, in the heart of the cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)
This map shows a section of Oak Ridge’s lay-out. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

FYI: Oak Ridge accepts donations and welcomes volunteers to help with cemetery upkeep. Burial plots are for sale. And markers may be purchased for unmarked graves.