Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Time passages September 26, 2014

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I recently started collecting alarm clocks and now have four, three Westclox and one General Electric.

I recently started collecting alarm clocks and now have four, three Westclox and one General Electric.

NEVER HAVE I BEEN MORE COGNIZANT of the passage of time than during this past year.

I can’t pinpoint a precise reason for this deep sense of time fleeting. Rather, a combination of life events has spawned this feeling.

A year ago, my eldest married. Although she graduated and left home 10 years ago and her sister two years later, only two years have passed since my youngest started college. He’s in his third year now, his second in Boston. He spent the summer there, too, working. I haven’t seen him in three months, won’t see him for another three.

I miss him and the girls—their closeness, the hugs, the conversation, the everything (almost) that comes with parenting children you love beyond words. Too many days I wish only to turn back the moments.

I wish again to be that young mom, with issues no bigger than the occasional two-year-old’s tantrum or the snarky teen or a kid I can’t rouse from bed or the picky eater. But when you’re handling such challenges, they seem ominous and big and looming. Ridiculous.

If only we knew.

Granted, I am, as the old adage says, “older and wiser.” But such wisdom comes via life experiences that color hair gray. Or maybe not solely. Time does that, too.

I am now the daughter with a mother in a nursing home, my father in his grave for nearly a dozen years. A friend noted the other day that he never saw his parents grow old to the age of needing his care. And I wondered if that was good or bad and then I didn’t want to think about it anymore.

I am now so close to age sixty that I feel my fingers reflexively curving around the numbers.

Which brings me to today, my birthday.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Part II: Inside the artsy Rancho Deluxe Z Garden in Mason City September 25, 2014

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A PRECISE WORD EDLUDES me to describe the Rancho Deluxe Z Garden in Mason City, Iowa.

A sign welcomes visitors to this unofficial, privately-owned Mason City sculpture garden.

A sign welcomes visitors to this unofficial, privately-owned Mason City sculpture garden.

Rather, I must choose a list of words for this half-acre garden created by local Max Weaver: quirky, odd, unique, creative, unbelievable. And, yes, even a bit weird.

See for yourself in these images snapped during a recent visit to 500 Second Street Northeast:

While touring here, you certainly will ask yourself about the meaning of many objects and displays.

While touring here, you certainly will ask yourself about the meaning of many objects and displays.

An outside the fence view.

An outside the fence view.

I really liked this circular garden art placed next to ornamental grass.

I really liked this circular garden art placed next to ornamental grass.

An eclectic mix.

An eclectic mix.

boat

An “air boat.”

I simply love this repurposing of 4,000 pound cement blocks as canvas for art.

I simply love this repurposing of 4,000 pound cement blocks as canvas for art.

Love this message in a maze of blocks.

Love this message in the maze of blocks.

Even old signage proves artful.

Even old signage proves artful.

One of my favorite sculptures features wheel covers.

One of my favorite sculptures features wheel covers.

The garden even includes a veterans' memorial.

The garden even includes a veterans’ memorial.

More projects and/or space for future expansion spotted through bars on the property.

More projects and/or space for future expansion spotted through a barred barrier on the property.

FYI: Click here to read my first post about Rancho Deluxe Z Garden.

Please check back next week for more stories from my visit to Mason City.

Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

One quirky sculpture garden in Mason City, Iowa September 24, 2014

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YOU LIKELY WILL NOT FIND this Mason City attraction listed on any official tourism website.

The official sign marking this unofficial sculpture park in Mason City.

The official sign marking this unofficial sculpture park in Mason City.

But Rancho Deluxe Z Garden, a quirky sculpture garden created on a half-acre of land in this northeastern Iowa community, is precisely the type of homespun arts spot that draws my interest.

An overview upon arriving at Rancho Deluxe Z Garden.

An overview upon arriving at Rancho Deluxe Z Garden.

If not for Mason City resident, blogger and friend, Beth Ann Chiles, though, I likely never would have visited this community, thus missing out on Max Weaver’s creative oddity located at 500 Second Street Northeast. Beth Ann knows me well enough to know I would want to visit the Rancho while visiting her.

The freaky portrait I captured.

The freaky portrait I captured.

So off we drove, aiming for this sculpture garden at the end of a dead end street on a hot and humid Sunday afternoon in late August. We weren’t the only ones there. A photographer was doing a senior photo shoot in a spot apparently popular for such portraits.

The garden features an abundance of bikes.

The garden features an abundance of bikes.

Another suspended bike...

The other side of the suspended bike.

Signatures of Ragbrai 2014 participants who stopped here.

Signatures of Ragbrai 2014 participants who stopped here.

And this summer, participants in Iowa’s Ragbrai, an annual bike ride across the state, toured the Rancho, a stop documented in signatures upon a cement block. The garden features bikes suspended from trees, fences and elsewhere, incorporated as works of art, making this Ragbrai visit especially appropriate.

Randy found his way inside the castle.

Randy found his way inside the castle.

Beth Ann and I, cameras in hand, meandered through the garden while my husband, Randy, clipped along. The Rancho calls for a slow study and multiple times walking through the garden to take in every detail. I expect I missed much, even at my snail’s pace. And, noted, Beth Ann, the garden is ever evolving.

Do loiter here. Especially take time to look at the many 3 x 3-feet painted cement blocks weighing 4,000 pounds.

Do loiter here. Especially take time to look at the many 3-foot square painted cement blocks weighing 4,000 pounds.

From signs to hub caps, bikes, dolls, license plates, rocks, statues, wheels, painted cement blocks and more, this garden presents an eclectic mix of stuff artfully placed on this plot of land.

I'm always a little creeped by misplaced dolls.

I’m always a little creeped by misplaced dolls.

You just have to see Rancho Deluxe Z Garden to believe this almost indescribable place. If you appreciate odd and quirky and art outside the box, then head for Mason City and Max Weaver’s unique sculpture garden.

BONUS PHOTOS:

Love this flower arcing above the garden.

Love this flower arcing above the garden.

More stuff suspended from trees.

More stuff suspended from trees.

Love the vibrant colors and the art painted on a cement block.

Love the vibrant colors and the art painted on a cement block. As I understand, the painted art has been created by many local artists.

Will you always understand what you see? Nope. Bowling balls in a bathtub...

Will you always understand what you see? Nope. Bowling balls in a bathtub…

FYI: Check back tomorrow for more photos from this sculpture garden.

If you like quirky places, consider also touring the “antique theme park” at Hot Sam’s Antiques, rural Lakeville, Minnesota. Click here to read about my visit there two years ago.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A teaser trailer to Mason City, Iowa, attractions September 23, 2014

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IOWA. We Minnesotans joke about our neighbor to the south.

“What’s in Iowa?”

“Why would you ever want to go there?”

Well, my fellow Minnesotans and anyone who has ever shunned Iowa, there are many reasons to visit this Midwestern state. Iowa is about much more than the slogan, “Fields of Opportunities,” bannered on a Welcome to Iowa sign as you cross the border aiming south.

You'll see lots of farms as you drive through Iowa, including this one off Interstate 35 just across the Minnesota border.

You’ll see lots of farms as you drive through Iowa, including this one off Interstate 35 just across the Minnesota border.

Yes, you will see an abundance of endless fields and lots of barns. Northeastern Iowa is even designated a Silos & Smokestacks National Heritage Area celebrating agriculture.  But you’ll also discover charming river towns and other interesting attractions, too.

Welcome to Mason City, a community of some 28,000 in northeastern Iowa.

Welcome to Mason City, a community of some 28,000 in northeastern Iowa.

We’ll start our journey off Interstate 35 just across the border in Mason City, home of my friend, Beth Ann Chiles, who blogs at It’s Just Life. Beth Ann welcomed my husband and me into her northeastern Iowa community, touring us around town on a hot and steamy August Sunday afternoon. Yes, we were practically dripping sweat. But, it was a great tour and a wonderful day and overnight spent with a friend whom I cherish.

Friend and blogger Beth Ann, right, was our personal tour guide in Mason City.

Friend and blogger Beth Ann, right, was our personal tour guide in Mason City.

Here’s a sneak peek from my visit to Mason City:

This sign does not point to downtown Mason City, but rather to a quirky and interesting attraction.

This sign does not point to downtown Mason City, but rather to a quirky and interesting attraction.

Any guesses as to what this might be?

Any guesses as to what this might be? Photographed in the heart of downtown Mason City.

My husband kicks back in an historic building that draws lots of interest.

My husband kicks back in an historic building that draws lots of architectural interest.

Not just any old street corner in any old neighborhood.

Not just any old street corner in any old neighborhood.

Check back for a closer look at these attractions as we tour Mason City before journeying toward the eastern border of Iowa.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A bone-chilling evening at Elko Speedway September 22, 2014

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SHELTERED INSIDE THE HOSPITALITY and bar area under the grandstand of Elko Speedway, I watched the storm move in, trees swaying, rain rushing race fans indoors.

After the early evening rain, fans began filing into the grandstand in the

After the early evening rain, fans began filing into the grandstand.

My husband and I had just arrived at this south metro speedway and settled inside with an evening meal, compliments of NAPA Auto Parts (Randy’s employer), when the rain arrived. I was thankful to be warm and dry, awaiting the now delayed start of the NAPA sponsored 6th annual Thunderstruck 93/11th annual Thunder Car Nationals races.

I was clueless as to the meaning of Thunderstruck and Thunder Car then and still am now. I’m not a racing enthusiast. But, given our evening out was free and I’d been to the races here only once, and years ago, I was game.

A view of trial runs, before darkness fell and photographing on-track action proved futile.

A view of trial runs, before darkness fell and photographing on-track action proved futile.

Now I remember why I haven’t been here in a long time. Racing is not my thing, especially when sitting on wet bleachers, a cold wind slicing across the speedway with the temp hovering in the high 50s. We could see our breaths. I shivered and pulled myself as deep inside my hooded sweatshirt as possible. In short, I was miserable. And I suppose that was partially my fault for failing to realize the temperature would plummet following the rain.

My husband enjoys racing. At least we remembered to bring ear plugs.

My husband enjoys racing. At least we remembered to bring ear plugs.

We watched four races, their start delayed by the wet track, before I semi pleaded with my husband to leave. And we did, at 9 p.m., long before the end of the races and the evening fireworks display and the ice bucket challenge to raise monies for ALS research.

Ear plugs of muffs are a must to protect your hearing.

Ear plugs or muffs are a must to protect your hearing.

All the while there, I attempted to interest myself in the speeding cars circling the track. I just could not get into the races.

Instead, I focused on the people:

Elko Speedway, couple

The ring bearer danced and stood by as the couple, married at Elko Speedway, was photographed.

I was as much interested in the bride as the shirt worn by the professional photographer.

I was as much interested in the bride as the shirt worn by the professional photographer.

the couple married at the speedway where the groom raced;

The ring bearer was especially interested in the NAPA truck, peering inside and trying the door.

The ring bearer was especially interested in the NAPA truck. He tried the door and peered inside.

the dancing ring bearer with the black and white checkered pillow, preschoolers clamped in sound-deadening ear muffs; a newbornish baby folded inside fleece; the woman in front of me easing into a second sweatshirt;

A quick shot of the Elko mascot.

A quick shot of the Elko mascot.

fox mascot roaming the grounds; race officials leaning over the track, arms flailing flags; guys carting buckets of ice-cradled beer cans into the grandstand.

And I wondered, how can you drink beer on an evening as blasted cold as this?

Musical entertainment is also sometimes part of the racing entertainment package. Champions Drive-In Theater is also located on the speedway grounds for outdoor movie showings.

Musical entertainment is also sometimes part of the racing entertainment package. Champions Drive-In Theater is located on the speedway grounds, too, for outdoor movie showings.

And I wondered why I was there, getting kicked in the butt by the guy behind me (no apology), sitting on rain-puddled bleachers, leaning into my husband for warmth, shivering and then shivering some more.

I distracted myself—scanned the ads plastered along the racetrack. End Zone Bar & Grill, JEGS.com, NAPA Know How, ethanol… Minnesota Congressman John Kline’s advertising presence here dominates.

con

Fans waited in lines at the concession stand, left. To the right is the bar and hospitality area under the grandstand.

For awhile it worked, this attempted diversion. When we finally exited the grandstand, warmth began returning to my too still too long body. We paused to warm ourselves at a campfire, a nice feature at this speedway. The facilities, although I have nothing with which to compare them, seem top-notch. Lines were long, though, at the concession stand.

Lots of racing merchandise inside the Speed Zone.

Lots of racing merchandise inside the Speed Zone.

We ducked inside the Speed Zone. Race fans packed this building crammed with racing merchandise. My husband spotted a $60 Elko Speedway sweatshirt. “You could have bought one of these,” he suggested. A little too late. Not that I would have purchased a racing sweatshirt anyway, but it would have cut the cold of a bone-chilling evening at the racetrack.

Sweatshirts were the attire of choice Saturday evening. for those fans smart enough to wear them to the track or purchase them at Speed Zone.

Sweatshirts were the attire of choice Saturday evening. for those fans smart enough to wear them to the track or purchase them at Speed Zone.

HOW ABOUT YOU? Have you ever been to car races? Are you a fan? Or are you, like me, simply unable to interest yourself in cars that circle round and round a track? Perhaps I need to give racing one more try, on a warm and sunny summer evening…

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My prize winning poetry: rooted in rural Minnesota September 19, 2014

LAST SATURDAY I SHOULD HAVE BEEN in northern Minnesota reading my poem, “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn,” at a book release party.

Should have been mingling with other writers at Blueberry Pines, between Park Rapids and Menahga, at lunch, during a writer’s workshop and during readings from The Talking Stick Volume 23, Symmetry.

But, instead, I was cleaning my mom’s house in preparation for putting it on the market. It’s a matter of priorities and setting aside one’s own desires to do what must be done.

While others were enjoying the fellowship of many fine Minnesota writers, I was scrubbing walls and woodwork and floors and holding back tears.

Turek's Auction Service, 303 Montgomery Ave. S.E. (Highway 21), Montgomery, has been "serving Minnesota since 1958." Daniel Turek, Sr., started the third-generation family business now operated by Dan, Jr. and Travis Turek. They sell everything from antique vases to real estate.

Turek’s Auction Service, 303 Montgomery Ave. S.E. (Highway 21), Montgomery, has been “serving Minnesota since 1958.” Daniel Turek, Sr., started the third-generation family business now operated by Dan, Jr. and Travis Turek. They sell everything from antique vases to real estate. Photographing this auction barn last winter inspired my poem.

Oh, yes, I would much rather have been in the Minnesota northwoods reading my prize winning poem. Margaret Hasse, who’s published four collections of poetry, awarded “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn” second place, selected above 89 other poems for that honor.

She wrote:

“I loved how you turned a humdrum occasion of bidding on antiques in an old barn into a closely observed and luminous occasion. The writer John Ciiardi once wrote that close and careful observation can “leak a ghost.” The surprise of your poem was the elevation of a commercial or material enterprise into a spiritual gathering—with a fellowship, liturgy, reverent respect, and people who commune. The ending—visual and concrete—was just right. The poet Franklin Brainerd wrote a poem something to the effect, “in a world of crystal goblets, I come with my paper cup.” There’s something both unpretentious and appealing about “sipping steaming black coffee from Styrofoam cups.”

TS 23

 

I can’t publish the actual poem here. To read it, you’ll need to order a copy of The Talking Stick 23, Symmetry. I’d highly recommend doing so. This anthology features 91 poems, 23 pieces of creative nonfiction and 15 works of fiction from some outstanding Minnesota writers or writers with a strong connection to our state.

The Talking Stick, published annually by the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc, holds a strong reputation, evidenced by the more than 300 submissions from 159 writers. Another one of my poems, “The Promised Land,” and a short story, “Eggs and Bread,” also published in this volume.

Last year I earned honorable mention for my short story, “The Final Chapter.” And before that, my poem, “Hit-and-Run,” also garnered honorable mention.

Such awards reaffirm one’s skills as a writer.

Cornfields snuggle up to one side of Vista's church yard. It's the most beautiful of settings.

Cornfields snuggle up to Vista Evangelical Lutheran Church in southern Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

And recently, also in northern Minnesota, my poem, “Hope of a Farmer,” was selected as a Work of Merit by judges at the Northwoods Art and Book Festival in Hackensack. That poem I can publish here. Like nearly every poem I pen, this poem is rooted in rural Minnesota.

Hope of a Farmer

In the slight breeze of a July afternoon,
when ninety degrees and humidity press upon me
at the edge of a corn field stretching into forever,
memories rise and shimmer like heat waves.

I see my father’s work laid out before him—
first, seeds dropped into rich black soil,
next, corn rows carefully cultivated,
then fervent prayers for timely rain.

And I remember how he hung onto harvest hope,
to the promise of golden kernels
brimming grain wagons that swayed
and rumbled to the Farmer’s Co-op Elevator.

This the wind-blown corn leaves whisper
while stalks rise toward the prairie sky,
reaching, reaching, reaching
toward the heavens like the faith of a farmer.

Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Whirlwind weekend of activity & emotions September 18, 2014

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HAVE YOU EVER FELT just so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that you wish you could lie down and sleep for years?

After three weekends of traveling to southwestern Minnesota for family and other events and to clean my mom’s house, I am exhausted.

This past weekend my husband and I put 475 miles on our van crisscrossing the state and also the roads of Redwood County.

The beautiful handcrafted LFL donated to my hometown of Vesta.

The beautiful handcrafted Little Free Library donated to my hometown of Vesta in 2012 and installed outside the Vesta Cafe. There are also shelves of donated books inside the cafe for locals to read in this community without a  city library. I donated two boxes of my mom’s books.  Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

Saturday morning saw us exiting Faribault by 6:45 a.m. for the nearly 2 ½-hour drive to my hometown of Vesta. By the time we arrived around 9:15 a.m. to drop off books for the Little Free Library at the Vesta Cafe, I was already yawning. And we hadn’t even started cleaning at Mom’s house, a process which would take five hours on this Saturday. But I’d already been awake since 5 a.m.

One of numerous banners displayed in the farming community of Belview.

One of numerous banners displayed in the farming community of Belview. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

By 2 p.m., we were headed 12 miles north and east to Belview to see Mom in the nursing home. Randy cat napped on her bed while I perched on the seat of Mom’s walker and visited with her.

Our weekend travels took us deep into southern Minnesota farm country.

Our weekend travels took us deep into southern Minnesota farm country.

Then we aimed south for the 45-minute drive to my brother and sister-in-law’s rural Lamberton home. Randy suggested I nap, and I tried. But even the hypnotic rhythm of travel and the warm sunshine streaming through the van windows were not quite enough to lull me asleep. It was the emotional upheaval of the day that kept me awake.

Me, left, with two of my best friends from high school, Margie and Sharon.

Me, left, with two of my best friends from high school, Margie and Sharon, at our 40th Wabasso High School class reunion.

A quick shower and change at my brother’s house and we were back on the road driving toward Wabasso for my 40th high school class reunion. We partied until nearly midnight and I managed only a fitful night of sleep before rolling out of bed at 7:30 a.m.

Nearing the other end of the 35W bridge.

We crossed the Interstate 35W bridge on our way home. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

We were on the road by 9:30 a.m. driving north and east toward rural Wyoming, Minnesota, for a sister-in-law’s 50th birthday party. About two-thirds of the way into the 3 ½-hour drive, I started whining like a kid, “Are we there yet? I just want to get there. I hope there’s some food left. I’m hungry.” The crankiness kicked in about the same time we rolled into heavy metro area traffic.

My husband, bless him, understood. He understood that stress and lack of sleep had morphed me into an overtired and crabby wife.

We arrived at the birthday girl’s home to find plenty of delicious food awaiting us. I pasted a smile on my face. After a few hours of visiting and relaxing in the sunshine of a perfect autumn afternoon, we took down the tent we lent to the party host, loaded it into our van and headed south to our next destination—the home of our eldest daughter and son-in-law.

My eldest daughter, Amber, and her husband, Marc, pose in front of the home they recently purchased in a Twin Cities suburb. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

My eldest daughter, Amber, and her husband, Marc, in front of the home they recently purchased in a Twin Cities suburb. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

About a half hour later we arrived, unloaded the stuff we’d hauled from my mom’s house, and soon settled into a comfortable spot on the sofa, me with a much-welcomed soothing glass of wine. For a few hours we savored our time with Amber and Marc and our son-in-law’s parents visiting from California.

Full stomach, a little wine…and that sleepy feeling drifted over me again, before we were out the door on the final stretch home. One hour to Faribault. Darkness descending. Headlights beaming too bright in my tired eyes. Rain falling. Wipers swiping. Home at 8:15 p.m. Finally.

Then, unpacking.

What a whirlwind weekend, crammed with too much of everything. Too much time in the van. Too many activities. Too much emotion. Too little sleep.

And we didn’t even make two other events—a book release party in northern Minnesota where I was to read my winning poem and a barn dance fundraiser.

I am beyond exhausted. Drained. Physically and emotionally.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Wabasso High Class of 1974 celebrates 40 years since graduation September 16, 2014

FORTY YEARS AGO, my Wabasso High School graduating class voted “Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road” as our class song.

But our senior class advisers nixed the choice and “We May Never Pass This Way Again” became our theme song instead.

We never were a class to follow the norm, to keep quiet, to go along with whatever the adults desired. We were outspoken teens—some more than others—challenging authority, growing into adulthood in the turbulent early seventies. Kids who’d just missed sending our male classmates off to fight in Vietnam.

The Wabasso High School Class of 1974 fortieth year reunion.

The Wabasso High School Class of 1974 fortieth year reunion group photo. That’s a teacher seated in the front row, right. I’m in the back row near the middle with the pink, white and black striped shirt. Photo by Randy Helbling.

This past Saturday we gathered at the community center (and then moved to the Roadhouse Bar & Grill) in the southwestern Minnesota prairie town of Wabasso to reminisce about our school days and to celebrate the 40th anniversary of our graduation in May 1974.

Forty years. How do four decades pass that quickly?

WHS reunion pic 7 and 8

Maybe we haven’t grow up so much. Or perhaps it’s just that we still like to have fun.

So much has changed, yet so little. We’ve grown up and reached the point in our lives when we realize life is too short, that the years we shared are worth celebrating.

In responding to questions for a reunion book I helped pull together, nearly every single classmate wrote that the best thing to happen to them since high school was getting married and having children. There was not a single answer like “I’m rich, live in a mansion and run a Fortune 500 company.” Not a single person placed wealth or career above family.

One other question—What has been the most influential book you’re read since high school?—also garnered a single most popular response—the bible. Many classmates wrote of their spiritual growth and the importance of God and faith in their lives.

On the right are the three of us from Vesta who attended the reunion.

On the right are the three of us from Vesta who attended the reunion. Micki, Dallas and I grew up on farms within a mile of each other. That’s a V, for Vesta, that we’re shaping with our hands in the top image.

This was, by far, the best class reunion of all I’ve attended. And I believe I’ve missed only two.

We mingled and laughed and talked about our kids and grandkids (those who have them) and all sorts of things and simply had a really good time. There was no cornering off of friends, no division, none of those issues that seem to plague classes even decades later.

How many classmates can cram into a photobooth, left, and four members of the reunion committee, right.

How many classmates can cram into a photobooth, left, and four members of the reunion committee, right.

As one of my 88 classmates noted, we were always a class that got along. He’s right. At one point Saturday evening, we crammed as many people as possible into a photo booth (New Ulm-based Up All Night Photobooth) contracted for the event. I was an initial naysayer on the photo booth. But I’d recommend it. The photo sessions got us out of our chairs and totally mixing it up.

My husband and I pose for a photo that I told him will be our Christmas card. In the photo to the right is Lindsey, right front, whom I have not seen in 40 years. He promised to return for the next reunion.

My husband and I pose for a photo that I told him will be our Christmas card. In the photo to the right is Lindsey, right front, whom I have not seen in 40 years. He promised to return for the next reunion.

I saw classmates I have not seen in 40 years. And, yes, I had to sneak a sly peek at several name tags to identify people. But for the most part, I recognized my 29 classmates and the single teacher in attendance.

One classmate told me I still looked the same. I took that as a compliment. Obviously, he didn’t notice the gray hair, the creases in my face or the pounds added since I was a hip hugger, mini skirt, hot pants, go-go boot wearing teenager.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Stopping in Iowa September 15, 2014

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THERE ARE STOPLIGHTS and then there are stoplights.

Stoplights in Dubuque, red

I could not believe the number of stoplights at this intersection in Dubuque, Iowa. Crazy.

You better know where you’re headed when you encounter this intersection in this major metro area just across the Mississippi River from Illinois.

Stoplights in Dubuque, green

We were aiming for the downtown, one you will definitely want to visit if you appreciate historic architecture.

Love, love, love this old river town, which my husband and I explored on a recent get-away. I know, who goes to Iowa, you ask, especially if you are a Minnesotan. We did, on our way to our final destination in Galena, Illinois, another historic river town.

Iowa presented some sweet moments and interesting discoveries, all of which I will share in upcoming posts. Our southern neighbor may bill itself as offering “fields of opportunities.” But, thankfully, this state presents more than fields. Even this prairie farm girl tired of all the corn and demanded finding a faster four-lane route aiming east toward the river and hills.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The faith of my forefathers September 12, 2014

A view of Immanuel from the church balcony. The pews, the chancel furnishings and the stained glass windows from the old church were incorporated into the new church.

A view of Immanuel Lutheran Church, Courtland, from the balcony. The pews, the chancel furnishings and the stained glass windows from the old church were incorporated into the new sanctuary. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

I love to tell the story,
’twill be my theme in glory,
to tell the old, old story
of Jesus and his love.

Katherine Hankey

IT SEEMED A FITTING HYMN sung by the Men’s Choir during a recent Sunday morning worship service at Immanuel Lutheran Church, rural Courtland, Minnesota.

Male voices blended in perfect harmony, a soothing symphony of the aged song that transcends time, a hymn as powerful today as it was for past generations.

Karl Jr. and Anna Bode, their nine children and a daughter-in-law. That's by grandpa, Lawrence (originally spelled Lorenz) in the front row in the white dress.

Karl Jr. and Anna Bode, their nine children and a daughter-in-law. That’s my grandpa, Lawrence (originally spelled Lorenz), in the second row in the glasses.

And the past prevailed on this Sunday, a day set aside for a reunion of the descendants of Karl Johann Bode, Jr. and his wife, Anna (Dallman).

The Karl Jr. and Anna Bode siblings, including my grandfather, Lawrence, right front.

An old photo of the Karl Jr. and Anna Bode siblings, including my grandfather, Lawrence, right front.

My husband and I were there, representing my mom and our siblings—the daughter and grandchildren of Lawrence and Josephine Bode.

A historical sign outside of Immanuel Lutheran Church, east of Courtland, Minnesota.

A historical sign outside of Immanuel Lutheran Church, east of Courtland, Minnesota.

Fitting Scripture read:

Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you.

Deuteronomy 32:7

Beautiful aged stained glass windows highlight the sanctuary.

Beautiful aged stained glass windows highlight the sanctuary.

My Bode forefathers left a strong legacy of faith, evident in this very church they helped found in 1859 after moving from Illinois to Minnesota. Stained glass windows from the old church have been incorporated into the new, a visual connecting today’s generation to those before them.

The symbolic bouquet.

The symbolic bouquet.

Red roses in a stunning altar bouquet honored my great grandparents. Nine yellow roses represented each of their children, Herman, Alma, Otto, Paul, Emil, George, Lawrence, Carl and Ervel.

The Bode cousins pose for a photo at the reunion.

The Bode first cousins pose for a photo at the reunion.

I am proud to be a part of the Bode family, a family still firmly standing upon a foundation of faith.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling