Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

The Christmas that wasn’t December 30, 2024

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This shows a snippet of a Christmas card I received in 2023. To me it represents the gathering of family, all back home for the holidays. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2023)

I WANT A CHRISTMAS DO-OVER. Yup, 2024 marked the Christmas that did not happen. I’m not referencing the real reason for Christmas of celebrating Christ’s birth, but rather family time together. Due to illness, my core family could not gather.

I was over my COVID by Christmas, testing negative the day prior. But by that time, my son, a son-in-law and the grandkids were ill with influenza, which they presumably picked up at an extended family holiday gathering. Many others became ill, too, following that event. I didn’t attend due to my COVID. Our daughter is sick now and the granddaughter is still recovering.

Tis the season to spread viruses. And this Christmas seems worse than any I can recall in recent memory.

A plane arrives at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The hardest thing through all of this, besides missing celebrating Christmas, was not seeing my son until a week after he arrived in Minnesota from Boston. But I didn’t want him here while I had COVID. And then he got sick. Finally, by the end of Christmas week, my mama’s heart could hold no more sadness. Except for occasional coughing, Caleb was through the worst of his illness. I had to see him.

I bought flowers (not this particular bouquet) for my eldest daughter, who had been caring for a houseful of sick family all of Christmas week. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2016)

So off Randy and I headed to our eldest daughter’s house late Friday morning, Christmas gifts stuffed into a cardboard box, banana bread packed and a bouquet of flowers in hand for Amber. Upon our arrival 35 minutes later, we unloaded the goods into the entry, the daughter, son-in-law and grandkids keeping their distance in the living room. Caleb watched the kids open their gifts from him while Randy loaded his suitcase and backpack into our van. I stepped indoors briefly, then waited outside.

Once we were all out of the house, Izzy and Isaac came to the front window and waved goodbye. There would be no hugs, only those sweet waves, which was better than nothing.

At this point, I was just happy to see my son and have some time with him before he flew out two days later. He worried that he might make Randy and me ill. I told Caleb that we were willing to take the risk because I needed to see him. I think most mothers would understand that. I cherish my time with my son given we see each other only once or twice a year. I am not one of those moms fortunate enough to have her kids all living in their hometown or nearby. That said, I am aware that some moms are grieving children who have passed or are estranged or cannot, for whatever reason, return home for the holidays. I’m sorry for the sadness and pain they feel at a time like Christmas.

The Boston skyline photographed from Tufts University. Randy and I traveled there in 2016 to attend Caleb’s graduation. He now lives and works in greater Boston. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2016)

The time I had with Caleb was brief. But it was enough. There were meals together. Conversations. Tears. Laughter. Love, lots of love. An unexpected gift from him of a massive mandala he laser cut, stained and glued together brought me to tears. Hearts theme the art. To me it represents family love. And the love of a son. The son I had to see. The son I hugged good morning and goodnight and then goodbye early Sunday evening as we dropped him off at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport for his flight home. Home to Boston. Not Minnesota.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating the bald eagle locally, elsewhere in Minnesota & now nationally December 26, 2024

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A bald eagle photographed in Faribault by the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2018)

THE BALD EAGLE IS NOW America’s official national bird as of a bill signed into law on Christmas Eve. And that’s exciting, especially for Minnesota, home to the National Eagle Center in Wabasha and home to the second largest population of eagles in the US, behind Alaska.

The National Eagle Center in Wabasha. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

I expect this designation will draw more visitors to Wabasha. I last visited the Eagle Center in 2014 and need to return as it was recently expanded and updated, building on an already impressive place to learn about eagles.

Up close with an eagle at the National Eagle Center along the Mississippi River in Wabasha. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

Wabasha’s National Eagle Center not only houses rehabilitated resident eagles (used in programming), but also features eagles in art, history and more. I’m all about learning more about a bird which I never tire of seeing. There’s something about an eagle soaring that imprints upon me a sense of awe.

The Bicentennial Eagle by A. Giannelli inside the National Eagle Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

On Christmas Day, as Randy and I sat home alone eating French toast (instead of a ham dinner due to illness in the family), I looked out the dining room window to see a large bird flying directly toward our house. Even as high as the bird flew, I recognized it as an eagle. Soon I spotted a second trailing eagle.

Just south of Union Lake Trail along Rice County Road 46, a bald eagle watches me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2018)

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen bald eagles simply by looking out windows in my south Faribault home. I’ve watched an eagle glide low past our picture window. I’ve seen one a block away flying at treetop level. Several blocks up the hill, an eagle flew above Fourth Avenue Southwest. I’ve observed an eagle following the course of the Straight River while dining at The Depot Bar & Grill. On Faribault’s north side, I’ve spotted eagles flying near the Cannon and Straight Rivers. On the way to Dundas, eagles perch in a nest visible from Minnesota State Highway 3.

Eagles perch in a tree near Waseca. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2012)

I’ve seen eagles in other areas of Rice County and in Waseca County. They are seemingly everywhere throughout Minnesota.

Glimpse of a bald eagle in a lakeside treetop south of Crosslake in central Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

To the north in the Brainerd lakes area of Central Minnesota, eagles once nested in a tree at a family member’s lake cabin. The nest fell in a storm, but the eagles relocated along Horseshoe Lake. So there’s still plenty of eagle watching at the cabin.

Eagles suspended from the ceiling and a view of the Mississippi River from the second floor of the National Eagle Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

We once nearly hit a bald eagle south of Hackensack as it lifted off the shoulder just as our van passed. Let me tell you that seeing the massive wing span (from 5 to 8 feet) of an adult eagle passing across your windshield is not only startling, but scary. Fortunately, the eagle cleared the windshield. Near Kenyon another grazing-on-roadkill eagle took flight within seconds of our van striking it. Aside from those close encounters, eagle watching has proven pleasant.

My photo of an eagle and dove at the Rice County Veterans Memorial now hangs in the Minnesota Veterans Home, Bemidji. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I also appreciate how bald eagles are incorporated into many veterans memorials as symbols of America and of freedom. I’ve photographed many of those memorial eagle sculptures, including one right here in Faribault. Today that photo from the Rice County Veterans Memorial graces a wall at the new Minnesota Veterans Home in Bemidji. along with five other veterans memorial photos I took. What an honor to have my work displayed there for veterans and others to appreciate.

The bald eagle at the vets park in Morristown flanked by flags. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The bald eagle symbolizes freedom and strength. Now to have this majestic bird as our national bird seems fitting. And long overdue. The bald eagle is a powerful symbol connected to democracy. To see an eagle soar is to see freedom soaring.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My Christmas message for you December 25, 2024

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A HOPE Christmas ornament, which is too heavy to hang on the tree. So I hang it on a drawer knob. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

HOPE. It’s a word that holds expectations, the promise of something better. And it’s one of my favorite words.

Today, Christmas Day, my hope is that you are celebrating in a way that is joyful and meaningful to you. Perhaps you are with friends or family. Maybe you are alone, far from loved ones. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I hope you understand how much you are cherished. Every. Single. One. Of you.

The older I grow, the more I realize how much we need each other, how connections make life so much richer, better.

Through my writing and photography, I’ve connected with people I would not have otherwise “met.” I have forged friendships across the country that have widened my world to new places, new perspectives, new experiences. What a blessing.

Hope and blessings fill my life. Today, Christmas Day, as I celebrate Christ’s birth as a woman of faith, I also celebrate you and what you mean to me. You are a gift.

Merry Christmas to each of you! May hope and joy fill your day.

Audrey

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Forgiveness on December 26 December 24, 2024

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This limestone sculpture by Thomas Miller depicts a Dakota warrior. It sits across from Reconciliation Park in Mankato at the Blue Earth County Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

FORGIVE EVERYONE EVERYTHING.

Powerful words on a bench at the Dakota 38 Memorial in Reconciliation Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

Those uppercase engraved block words, white against red on a stone bench at the Dakota 38 Memorial in the heart of downtown Mankato at Reconciliation Park, hold the strength of a people who really have no reason to forgive. But they choose to do so. And in forgiveness comes healing.

The names of the 38 Dakota men hung in Mankato are listed on the Dakota 38 Memorial. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

December 26 marks the date in 1862 when 38 Dakota men were hung near this site along the Minnesota River in America’s largest mass execution. Originally, 303 Dakota were sentenced to death following “trials” (the quotes are intentional) after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862. President Abraham Lincoln reviewed the list of those sentenced to death, approving the hanging of thirty-eight. Thousands gathered to watch the execution on the day after Christmas 162 years ago.

Up close, names of the Dakota who were hung. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

This history I learned early on, but only from a White perspective and only because of my roots in southwestern Minnesota, at the epicenter of the war. I expect many Americans, including many Minnesotans, to this day know nothing of this conflict that killed hundreds of Whites and Dakota. Internment and exile of the Dakota followed. Native Peoples suffered because of the atrocities before and after the war.

A massive limestone sculpture of a white buffalo in Reconciliation Park represents the spiritual survival of the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

This is history I’d encourage everyone to study. And not just from a one-sided perspective. I won’t pretend that I am fully-informed. I’m not. I do, though, have a much better understanding than I did growing up. I’ve read, listened, learned. I know of stolen land, broken treaties and promises. Starvation. Injustices. Demeaning words like those attributed to a trader who told starving Dakota to “eat grass.” Andrew Myrick was later reportedly found dead, his mouth stuffed with grass.

A sign in Reconciliation Park directs visitors to the many sites around Mankato focused on reconciliation and remembrance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

But back to those three words on that stone bench in Mankato: FORGIVE EVERYONE EVERYTHING. The Dakota truly have no reason to forgive. But they choose to do so. I’ve learned that forgiveness is part of Dakota culture and beliefs.

An overview of the location of Reconciliation Park along Riverfront Drive in Mankato, along the Minnesota River and across from the public library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

In the month of December, the attitude of forgiveness extends beyond words in stone to an annual horseback ride honoring the 38+2 (two more Dakota were sentenced to death two years later). This year, two rides—The Makatoh Reconciliation & Healing Horse Ride and The Dakota Exile Ride, the first originating in South Dakota, the other in Nebraska—will end on December 26 with gatherings at Reconciliation Park and the Blue Earth County Library, located across from each other.

Just down the street from Reconciliation Park, murals on the Ardent Mills grain silos celebrate the diversity of Mankato, including that of the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

These rides focus on educating, remembering, honoring, healing and forgiving. Five powerful verbs when connected with the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862.

Katherine Hughes’ poem ends with the word “forgiveness.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

The poem “Reconcile,” written by Katherine Hughes and posted in Reconciliation Park, closes with this powerful verse: Hope for a future/When memories remain/Balanced by forgiveness.

A Dakota prayer in the park ends with the word “reconciliation.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)

FORGIVE EVERYONE EVERYTHING.

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FYI: Here’s the schedule for the December 26 events. A community gathering is set for 9 am-10 am at Reconciliation Park and the library. Horseback riders arrive at 10 a.m. A ceremony in the park takes place from 10 am-11:30 am. From 11:30 am-1 pm, a healing circle will happen at the library with discussion surrounding the events of December 26, 1862, covering the past, present and future. A community meal for the horseback riders, who rode hundreds of miles to Mankato, follows.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Health update December 23, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 3:45 PM
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Graphic of the first coronavirus. Source: CDC

GRATEFUL. That sole word defines the state of my soul today. I feel gratitude for you, my dear readers, who care so much. When I blogged late last week that I tested positive for COVID, you responded with words of encouragement and kindness. I am grateful.

When I shared my disappointment in not immediately seeing my son, who flew in from Boston on Friday afternoon, and in missing an extended family holiday gathering on Saturday, you lifted my spirits. Whether you commented here, emailed, texted, or simply held me in your thoughts, thank you. Your words mattered to me. I am not surprised by your response. You have always given me so much love.

Today I am happy to share that I am doing well. That was not a given going into testing positive for the coronavirus given my history with viral infections. But getting on the antiviral med, Paxlovid, made all the difference, along with being up-to-date on my vaccinations.

Paxlovid helped immediately in nearly eliminating my horrible COVID cough. After a night of no sleep due to coughing, one dose of Paxlovid in my body and I slept fine with no coughing. As I write, I can’t recall the last time I coughed. Mostly, I feel near-normal. Not quite, but close.

ABOUT PAXLOVID

I have to pause here and write a bit about Paxlovid, which I’m taking twice daily (three pills at a time) for five days. The taste is beyond awful, something I can only describe as bitter and metallic. That repulsive taste lingers. I’ve found that chewing a strong, mint-flavored gum helps mask the taste. That tip came from my eldest, who got the tip from her brother-in-law. As much as I detest the horrid taste of the med, it’s a small thing to put up with if it means a shorter and less severe case of COVID. The drug absolutely is working for me.

That said, I wish it was easier to get Paxlovid. When you need it, you need it. And, to be effective, it must be taken within five days of developing symptoms. I tested positive Thursday evening, too late to reach a doctor for a prescription. Friday morning I called my clinic when it opened, then waited another 1 ½ hours to talk to a doctor. After that phone visit, I waited for the pharmacy to fill my prescription. It wasn’t until late afternoon, when Randy got off work and could pick up my prescription at the busy pharmacy, that I finally got the med in my body. I lost nearly an entire day going through all those steps. It should be easier to get.

Then there’s the cost. Thankfully, Medicare covered the cost of Paxlovid for me. But I was shocked to see on the pharmacy receipt that the drug costs $1,707. Do the math and that’s $171 for each dosage. Now, if I didn’t have insurance or didn’t have insurance that covered that cost, I likely would not have taken Paxlovid. Price should not be a factor in whether you have access to treatment. But that’s reality, unfortunately.

GRATEFUL FOR HEALING & GATHERING

So here I am, on the end of COVID which, for me, proved fairly mild thanks to modern medicine. Whether my long haul COVID symptoms flare with this new infection remains to be seen. But I am hopeful.

Mostly I am grateful. Grateful that I will soon see my son and my daughter and her family. The plan now is to gather on Christmas Day. As long as I’m doing well. And I fully expect I will be.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The magic of Santa

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A vintage Santa waits inside a vintage vehicle at the recent “Vintage Christmas in the Barn” holiday market in Cannon City. The holiday sale is over. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

DO MOST KIDS STILL BELIEVE in Santa Claus? Or at least the magic of Santa? I hope so.

There’s something profoundly wonderful about Santa. He represents the best in all of us. He listens. He’s always happy. He loves cookies and milk. And he doesn’t promise us the moon. To do so would not be in our best interests, although a child with a long list of wants may disagree.

Generations of kids have wondered what they will find under the tree at Christmas. This scene is inside the barn at the recent “Vintage Christmas in the Barn” holiday sale. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

There was a time when I paged through the Sears & Roebuck Christmas catalog looking for toys I thought I needed. It really was a futile effort as I never got them anyway. But I was dreaming as every child is wont to do before Christmas. Except, I think, in 2024 kids are more likely to get what they want.

Outdoor decor for sale at “Vintage Christmas in the Barn” earlier in the holiday season. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

I wonder what Santa thinks of all the requests today. Would he prefer to hire elves who are skilled only in woodworking versus computer programming? Would he prefer simpler toys that engage the imagination and spark creativity to so many electronics? Does his head spin when he inventories the ever-growing number of gadgets and batteries piling up at the North Pole?

Holiday goods for sale at “Vintage Christmas in the Barn.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Just thinking about everything Santa needs to keep straight makes my head spin. At least he’s contracted with others to help in gift delivery. I never thought one team of reindeer could possibly handle the job. Santa can’t do everything. There’s a lot of pressure to get gifts delivered on time. (Thank you, postal workers, and others.)

An oversized, handcrafted wooden Santa greets shoppers at “Vintage Christmas in the Barn.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Despite all of the changes through the decades, Santa remains as popular as ever, so it seems to me. Parents still plop crying babies on Santa’s lap for photos. Kids approach the Jolly Old Guy with a mix of trepidation and hope. In the end, Santa still holds a sense of wonder that remains timeless through the generations. And therein lies the magic of Santa. Do you believe?

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Timing is everything December 20, 2024

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One of my favorite signs photographed in Crosby during the COVID-19 pandemic. I appreciated the Minnesota slant with the Paul Bunyan plaid. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2020)

BUMMED. That singular word describes my feelings just days before Christmas…because I’m sick. Thursday evening I tested positive for COVID, after testing negative the day prior.

This afternoon my son flew in from Boston. The plan was to pick him up at the Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport. Instead, Randy is at a local pharmacy picking up Paxlovid and cough medicine for me. Our eldest picked up her brother at the airport.

I haven’t seen Caleb since August. I was anticipating our reunion, how we would embrace quickly before placing his luggage in the van for the ride to our Faribault home. Instead, he’s staying with Amber and family a 35-minute drive away. He may as well be in Boston.

Tomorrow my extended family is gathering for Christmas. I, of course, will miss that.

These things happen. Illness is never convenient. Especially during the holidays. For now, my focus is on getting better. My body does not handle viruses well. I’ve experienced debilitating long haul COVID. I lost the hearing in my right ear due to a virus. I had whooping cough at the age of 48.

Coughing kept me awake last night. Just when I would be nodding off, the coughing would start. It’s not nearly as bad as the coughing I experienced during three months of pertussis. But it’s bad enough.

Hopefully in a few days I’ll be doing better…feeling well enough (and non-contagious) to gather with loved ones later next week. For now, I’m keeping my distance. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s Christmas by spreading COVID.

#

FYI: I’d encourage you to click here and read a story on MPR about the current rise in COVID, RSV and flu cases in Minnesota. Whooping cough is also at a high in our state. Stay well, my friends. And stay home if you’re showing signs of illness.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Focus on vintage at Christmas & beyond December 18, 2024

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A creative merchandise display inside the barn at “Vintage Christmas in the Barn,” which featured old stuff for sale inside a barn, an outbuilding and outdoors. My older brother had a Tonka digger. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

MENTION THE WORD “vintage” and I’m all in. Perhaps it’s my age. But probably not. I’ve always preferred the stuff of yesteryear to the stuff of today. For that reason, I am drawn to shops, garage sales and other places selling antiques, primitives, collectibles, second hand and vintage.

The site of the recent holiday market, “Vintage Christmas in the Barn,” in Cannon City. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

This time of year, especially, “old” is out there, including in Cannon City, where Debbie Glende, aka The Crabby Wren, opens her outbuildings for occasional seasonal sales. Her holiday market, “Vintage Christmas in the Barn,” is no longer open. But it got me thinking about how much I appreciate the goods of yesteryear. And how this old stuff can make an ideal Christmas gift. It’s even a bit trendy now, especially with the younger generation, to shop thrift stores. Repurpose, reuse and keep stuff out of the landfill.

I recycled festive holiday trim and a card from Christmases past to decorate this gift. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I’ve been doing this for a long time. Buying used, using goods passed down to me from family, even gifting second hand. And, yes, I save and reuse gift bags, tissue paper, ribbons and bows and recycle greeting cards as gift tags, all to the ridicule of my siblings. Let ’em laugh. Mom would be proud that I’m following her thrifty example.

A paint-by-number winter scene painted by my Great Grandma Anna and currently displayed in my home for the holidays. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

If you were to step into my home, you would find lots of vintage. I have collections of vintage glassware, which I use daily; vintage tablecloths, pulled out whenever I have dinner guests; and vintage art (including paint-by-number), displayed throughout my home.

My vintage early 1970s vinyl with two songs by Bob Dylan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

And then there’s my vinyl collection including a recording of a young Michael Jackson of The Jackson 5 singing “I’ll Be There” in a high-pitched voice. I got that record as a Christmas gift in 1970. Likewise my vinyl of heartthrob David Cassidy making his case in “I Think I Love You” with The Partridge Family. I can still belt out the words as that love song blasts on a garage sale turntable. And not to be forgotten, Minnesota native Bob Dylan with his ballad “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” That’s especially timely with the Christmas release of “A Complete Unknown,” a movie about Dylan. Yes, I like vintage.

Gathering with extended family in my home for a Thanksgiving dinner around George and Clara’s table many years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

My dining room table, of unknown vintage, came from George and Clara’s home, purchased at George’s farm auction after he passed. The couple lived a few sections over from my childhood home near Vesta. For the past four decades plus, my family has gathered around that large oval wooden table with the graceful, curved legs. We’ve shared thousands of meals, talked and laughed and, yes, even cried. Kids did their homework there. Grandkids drew. Tabletop dings mark memories.

The 1960s amber glasses purchased for my mom and which I now have and use daily. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Perhaps that’s the appeal of vintage. The memories. Vintage connects me to my past or to loved ones. When I drink from textured amber glasses, I think of my mom. The glasses were purchased at Marquardt’s Hardware Store in Vesta as a Mother’s Day gift for her sometime in the 1960s. They are a tactile reminder of Mom, who died in January 2022.

My Aunt Rachel crafted and gifted this to my mom in the 1960s. Now I have the tree and hang it in my home at Christmas. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The handcrafted pinecone Christmas tree, which my beloved Aunt Rachel made for my mom in the 1960s, now hangs in my home each December. In the dining room, within view when dining at George and Clara’s table.

The Shiny Brite Christmas Angel Band, vintage 1960s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Atop a vintage chest of drawers (one my dad and his older brother used as children) in my living room, six plastic angels gather as part of the Shiny Brite Christmas Angel Band. My brother Doug and I bought the tiny figurines for Mom at a hardware store in Echo. A Christmas gift sometime in the 1960s.

Vintage outdoor holiday decorations like this were for sale at “Vintage Christmas in the Barn.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Vintage. Whether viewed inside or outside a barn in Cannon City, in my home or in a local shop, these goods of bygone days spark memories, ignite joy, remind me of the passage of time. Will my adult children or grandkids care about any of this after I’m gone? Maybe. But I expect they will wonder why Mom/Grandma kept all this old stuff. Perhaps they will choose a piece or two to keep as a memory of me. And then they will box up the rest, wondering who the heck David Cassidy is and why I needed all those vintage tablecloths and drinking glasses and what’s with this pinecone Christmas tree?

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Regarding the latest school shooting: “Enough is enough,” says Madison police chief December 16, 2024

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I’ve been to Madison, Wisconsin, many times, taken many photos there. This is one of my favorites, taken along a bike trail in the Atwood Neighborhood on Madison’s east side. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

SHORTLY BEFORE I SAT down to write a blog post earlier this afternoon about not mailing Christmas cards this year, I checked my local newspaper’s website and read this headline: “5 dead, others injured in a shooting at a private Christian school in Wisconsin.” Then I clicked on the story.

In the second paragraph, I read that the shooting happened in Madison, Wisconsin, where my second daughter, who is eight months pregnant, and her husband live. A moment of fear pulsed through me. Miranda delivers mail in Madison. In reality, the likelihood of her working a mail route near Abundant Life Christian School at the time of the shooting seemed slim. Yet, I didn’t know where the school is located or where her routes take her. And it is a lack of information that can lead the mind to places you don’t want to go.

So I googled and found that the school sits on Madison’s east side, an area familiar to me since my son lived and worked on the east side of the capitol city for awhile. Next, I texted Miranda on a family group thread. Yes, during her work day. She had just learned of the shooting. And, yes, she was OK, and delivers mail on the west, not the east, side of the city. But, she noted, a co-worker’s child attends Abundant Life.

My heart broke. Not only for that child and parent, but for all the children, families and staff connected to this K-12 school along East Buckeye Road. They have been forever traumatized.

The initial report of five dead, as shared by law enforcement, proved incorrect. As I write this, a teacher, a teenage student and the teen suspect are dead. Six other students were injured, two with life-threatening injuries. My heart hurts for those families, especially.

As I watched an afternoon news conference led by Madison Police Chief Shon F. Barnes, himself a former teacher, tears trickled down my face. Grief rose. And the words of the chief and other officials who stood before the media sounded all too familiar. Just different faces, different voices in a different city on a different date in time.

“Enough is enough,” said the police chief in three succinct words that likely summarize how many of us are collectively feeling. Gun violence in our schools, anywhere, is unacceptable.

On this day, answers to many questions about the shooting in Madison remain unknown as the investigation begins. But I think we can all agree that something needs to change. I don’t have answers on how to prevent this from happening again in some other school. And it seems no one else really does either as these shootings continue. But it’s not for a lack of trying—by controlling access to schools, by offering more resources to help troubled students, by pushing for gun reform…

On this Monday, only 10 days before Christmas, the people of Madison are experiencing the unthinkable tragedy of a school shooting. They are a community collectively reeling and grieving, searching for answers. I feel for my daughter’s co-worker, for her child and for every single student, teacher, staff and family connected to Abundant Life Christian School.

Suddenly the fact that I’m not sending out Christmas cards this year just doesn’t seem all that important.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Connecting past to present via my “Charlie Brown” Christmas tree

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Me, in the red jumper, with my siblings Doug (back) and front, left to right, Monica, Brian and Lanae on Christmas Eve 1964 in our childhood home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

NOSTALGIA SHAPES my Christmas tree choice, as I expect it may yours. I want a tree that is short-needled, imperfect, leaning toward Charlie Brownish. That type of unshaped tree is the tree of my childhood Christmases on a southwestern Minnesota dairy and crop farm.

UPDATE: Ken’s Christmas Trees, 1407 Fourth St. NW., Faribault, has closed for the season. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

In the old 1 ½-story wood-frame farmhouse where I lived the first 11 years of my life with my parents and four of my five siblings (Brad wasn’t yet born, the new house not yet built), our Christmas tree sat on the end of the Formica kitchen table. The house was too small to put the tree elsewhere. An oil-burning stove occupied much of the tiny living room, which would be the usual spot to place a tree.

A touch of red at Ken’s Christmas Trees, which also sells wreaths and evergreen garland. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

I loved that the tree sat on the table, which was draped with a red-and-white checked oilcloth tablecloth matching the red-and-white checkered linoleum tile floors. Kitchen walls were painted yellow on top with some type of red-bordered gray wall covering below. A maroon Naugahyde rocker sat in front of the trap door leading to the dirt-floored cellar.

An overview of Ken’s Christmas Trees, located in a lot next to Jersey Mike’s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

In that setting, Dad placed our grocery store Christmas tree. On the kitchen table, on the end next to the window facing west. Imagine gathering there in the dark of December, Dad in from doing chores, Mom dishing up meat, boiled potatoes, gravy and a side vegetable to pass around. Homemade bread piled on a plate. Milk from our cows poured into cups. Meals during the holiday season held a bit of magic because of that tiny Christmas tree.

Tinsel sparkled in the glow of holiday lights. To this day, I drape tinsel on my tree even if it’s a bit of a hassle. I love the old-fashioned look, the memories connected to tinsel.

This paper Baby Jesus goes on my Christmas tree every year. It’s from the 1960s, from my Sunday School Christmas lesson. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I remember favorite ornaments, too. The wax lamb, which Mom cautioned not to hang too close to the heat of a bulb. The glittery gray dove. The mini white church with a red window, hung near a red bulb so the window glowed. The colorful vintage round ornaments that we handled with care lest they break, and some did. I have a few of those. And then the paper baby Jesus, nestled in a manger, and an angel robed in white. I have both, cut from Sunday School lessons and looped with yarn to hang from evergreen boughs.

My husband, Randy, accompanied by Ken’s son, carries our $37 tree to the van. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

When I shop for my Christmas tree each December, usually at Ken’s Christmas Trees in Faribault, these visuals guide me. I am, I suppose, attempting to recapture those Christmases of yesteryear. A time when, unencumbered by the responsibilities of adulthood, I experienced the absolute joy of the season. There were no worries—only that of remembering my line for the Sunday School Christmas service.

This cut-out of Ken Mueller stood at the tree lot in 2023. Mueller faced a major health crisis this past year, but has since recovered. His kids are now running the tree lot. It’s all about family with the Muellers, too. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2023)

Today I experience Christmas through my grandchildren, Isabelle, 8, and Isaac, almost six. Next Christmas another little one—my second daughter is due to deliver a boy in January—will add to the magic of the season. Kids have a way of infusing anticipation and unbridled joy into Christmas.

Shoppers search for the “perfect” tree, for them, at Ken’s lot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

When my core family (minus the pregnant daughter and her husband, who live 260 miles away) gather around my Charlie Brownish tree in the living room (not the kitchen) on Christmas Eve, I hope they feel the magic. The magic and joy that come in being together, especially with the son in Minnesota from Boston. Celebrating the birth of Christ. Celebrating family. Understanding that, no matter what tree decorates a home, it is the homecomings, the conversation and laughter that matter most. The love we feel for one another centers our family celebrations.

Our 2023 Christmas tree purchased at Ken’s tree lot and placed in a corner of our living room. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2023)

The tree is simply a decoration, a memory, a focal point. In the living room. Not atop the kitchen table.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling