Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Bullying in Minnesota: In the news again & a look back January 22, 2015

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WHO AMONG YOU has been bullied?

If I could see you all, I expect many a hand would rise.

Both my arms would be waving wildly, high above my head. Me. Me. Me.

That bullying occurred more than 40 years ago. Yet, it feels like yesterday when my junior high classmates picked on me and other kids from a nearby farming community. We, apparently, did not meet their standards given our rural addresses outside the county seat.

Countless days I arrived home from school in tears. Crying over mean words. Crying and wishing with all my might that things would change or that I would never need to return to that school.

A teacher who also bullied students added to my angst as did other teachers, who simply looked the other way.

These horrible memories flash to the forefront because of a bullying incident in Minnesota that is, today, big news. News because the father of the girl being bullied created a YouTube video that shows just how mean bullies (and their parents) can be—mean as in using the “N” word against the father’s African American daughter. Click here to read background on this bullying case and to watch the father’s video.

You would think in the year 2015, with all of the discussion on bullying, all of the awareness, all of the laws, that bullying would not exist. Wishful thinking. All the talk and rules in the world will not close mouths that speak words of hatred and racism and just plain meanness. Yet we need to keep trying.

What to do. There’s no single solution. I wished back in the late 1960s that my parents would have done something—anything. But that can backfire, too, make the bullying worse.

When our son was bullied as in being spit on, pinched, pushed and kicked by a classmate, my husband and I met with his teacher. Her response: Befriend the bully. Are you kidding? Place the responsibility for solving the problem on our elementary-aged son and not hold the bully accountable? Not going to happen. Eventually we pulled our son from the school.

Recently, I was shouted at during a meeting. I sat there stunned, struggling to hold back tears. Soon thereafter I left, unable to suppress my emotions. But this time the reaction was different. Concerned individuals approached me, assuring me that I didn’t deserve the verbal attack for asking a legitimate question.

After the meeting, the man who launched those angry words at me apologized. He phoned again early the next morning to apologize. I accepted both apologies.

If only every case of bullying ended that way, with a sincere apology, acceptance of responsibility and determination to change.

That would be hoping for Utopia.

A snippet from a sign at the International Peace Garden, Nerstrand Elementary School, Minnesota.

A snippet from a sign at the International Peace Garden, Nerstrand Elementary School, Minnesota. The sign and garden do not specifically address bullying. Rather the Peace Garden advocates peace and getting along, despite our differences. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

Yet, I can take my experiences and find some good therein. Because I was bullied, I am a more compassionate, caring and empathetic person, championing for others. I may have been that way without the bullying. The qualifying word would be “more.”

I can use my words in a positive way to affect change, to show others I care, really care. As we all know, words are powerful.

Now it’s your turn to speak. Please share your thoughts on bullying.

FYI: To learn more about bullying prevention, click here to reach the Pacer Center’s Kids Against Bullying website. And then click here to reach the site for teens.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

And the winner of the down comforter is…

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The prize: a toasty warm white down comforter, left, with a green duvet cover, right.

The prize: a toasty warm white down comforter, left, with a green duvet cover, right.

I WISH I HAD MORE than one down comforter with duvet cover to give away.

But I don’t. So Virginia, who coordinated with me on the give-away of bedding she no longer needs because she lives in warm and sunny Arizona, and I chose a winner. One.

Drum roll….

Merri McElderry penned the winning entry. This Minnesotan’s poem best met our request for entries that were creative and proved a true need for Virginia’s king-sized down comforter.

Here’s Merri’s poem:

If I could win this downy gift,
It surely would make me feel less adrift,
In icy wind and blowing snow,
It would I am sure uncurl my toe,
And I would fall on unfrozen knees,
Giving thanks to God, for miracles such as these.

Merri, please claim your prize by commenting on this post with your mailing address. (Your address will not be published.) Congratulations.

Thank you to all who entered and to Virginia for her generosity. She is making a difference.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In Appleton, Wisconsin: Focusing on homelessness via the Little Red Wagon January 21, 2015

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Little Red Wagon movieWHEN CHURCHES PRACTICE what they preach, they make a noticeable impact in the world.

When individuals do good, they also make a difference.

This Saturday The Mission Church will impact Appleton, Wisconsin, with a free screening of the movie, Little Red Wagon, based on the true story of Zach Bonner. In 2005, the then 7-year-old founded the Little Red Wagon Foundation, a nonprofit that helps underprivileged kids, focusing on those who are homeless. Just a year earlier, he’d canvassed his Arkansas neighborhood with his little red wagon gathering items for survivors of Hurricane Charley.

Zach, who now lives in Florida, will be in Appleton for the 10 a.m. Saturday, January 24, screening at Valley Value Cinemas, 2165 South Memorial Drive, and for a reception following at The Mission, 314 North Appleton Street. Movie attendees are invited to afterward walk the two miles from the movie theatre to the church, thus visually and publicly raising awareness of homelessness.

Now, you’re likely wondering how I know about this movie event 300 miles from my Minnesota home. Well, my second daughter, Miranda, lives in Appleton and attends The Mission Church. She phoned recently all excited about the Little Red Wagon. I’m not surprised. Twice after Hurricane Katrina, she traveled to New Orleans to assist with clean-up. She’s a young woman with a big heart and a passion for helping others.

So even though this project is not happening in my main readership area, I couldn’t turn down my daughter’s request to publicize this cause.

In addition to the movie showing and the Q & A with Zach, The Mission Church has been collecting small toys, activity books, socks, mittens, sample-size toiletries, food and more to fill 300 “Zach Packs,” bags measuring 14 by 17 inches. These will be gifted to area homeless children through Harbor House (which serves victims and survivors of domestic abuse) and Homeless Connections (an organization helping the homeless in the Fox Valley region), Miranda says.

If you live in eastern Wisconsin, I’d encourage you to attend this Little Red Wagon event in Appleton on Saturday. If you can’t be there, like me, I suggest you check out the Little Red Wagon website by clicking here. The nonprofit accepts monetary donations for its projects. Or take action in your own community.

Watch the movie trailer by clicking here. As the narrator says, “In every one of us there is the power to do great things.”

All we need to do is act.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Peters Billiards sign January 20, 2015

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TRAVELING THROUGH THE CROSSTOWN area of Minneapolis along Interstate 35W, I note the Peters Billiards sign flashing bright on the side of an earth-toned building.

 

Billiards, edit 1

 

You can’t miss it.

Pool cues and racked balls define the signage, leaving no doubt that this family-owned business sells pool tables and accessories. I appreciate such specific graphic signage that’s colorful, clear and concise.

Behind that sign there’s a history that stretches back to 1957, according to the company’s website.

Inside, you’ll find Greg Peterson, one of the world’s leading experts and collectors of antique billiard tables. Some of those tables are displayed here.

The business restores pool tables, even offers a custom line created by co-founder Ken Peters.

All of this I learned because that interstate side sign grabbed my photographic attention.

Well done, graphic designer.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

For the love of cheese curds January 19, 2015

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I’M A BIG FAN of local mom-and-pop restaurants. I prefer to eat at a place that’s distinctly home-grown as opposed to chain anything.

The Curdy Stop, Redgranite, Wisconsin.

The Curd Stop, Redgranite, Wisconsin.

On my last trip through central Wisconsin, I spotted a new eatery, The Curd Stop, in Redgranite, west of Oshkosh. I love the name of that community and how Wisconsin State Highway 21 curves right through the town.

How the building looked as an ice cream shop. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo, May 2014.

How the building looked as an ice cream shop. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo, May 2014.

In the past, the lavender hue of an ice cream shop, once housed in this building, always grabbed my photographic attention.

The Curdy Stop up close.

The Curd Stop up close.

But this time I noticed the building had been repainted a muted brownish red and was sporting signs about cheese curds. That’s so Wisconsin.

Time did not allow my husband and me to stop at The Curd Stop this trip. But, after checking out the eatery’s Facebook page, I’m determined that we will dine there sometime.

The menu promises farm to table fresh food that’s locally sourced.

For example, on Fish Fryday, you can dine on freshwater Lake Michigan yellow perch from Two Rivers, one of my favorite Wisconsin communities.

Order up The Curdy Classic and you’ll get locally sourced beef with Wisconsin artisan cheese tucked inside and melted on top.

Given the name, you can expect most menu items to include cheese curds or some form of cheese. And I do love cheese.

The restaurant promises that “all menu items are handcrafted fresh, not frozen.” Just how I like my food.

“Wisconsin never tasted so good,” according to The Curd Stop.

If any of you readers have dined at The Curd Stop in Redgranite, I’d love to hear.

Do you have a favorite home-grown eatery? Tell me why and give them a shout out here.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Minnesota Faces: Layton Fossum January 16, 2015

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Portrait #3: Layton Fossum, the ultimate optimist

Layton Fossum posed for me at the August 2010 Cancer Stroll.

Layton Fossum posed for me at the August 2010 Cancer Stroll.

When I met Layton Fossum 4 ½ years ago at the American Cancer Society Straight River Stroll, I looked into the face of an optimist.

The rural Northfield man, despite a difficult struggle with neck and head cancer (the words he used), was upbeat and positive, living life to the fullest.

It was obvious, from looking at him, that he’d been through a lot, that cancer had taken a physical toll. He had no facial nerves on his right side. He’d undergone reconstructive surgery on his drooping face. He’d lost the hearing in his reshaped right ear. Gold weighted his right eyelid.

But Layton didn’t dwell on any of this.

He lived. And he lived a good life. A joyful life.

Layton died on Monday at age 52, losing his long battle with cancer. He will be buried on Saturday.

But his positivity lives on. In condolences posted on the Benson & Langehough Funeral Home website, friend after friend writes of an upbeat man of faith with a beautiful smile, a great sense of humor, a generous and enthusiastic spirit, the type of person we all wish we could be, but likely aren’t.

My favorite comment comes from the folks at Full Service Battery & Salvage in Farmington. (Layton collected and sold scrap metal besides working numerous other jobs.) They wrote:

Layton was our favorite customer. His positive energy always blasted through our doors like hope! You couldn’t be down with Layton around. We will miss him!

That we should all blast through life with hope, like Layton.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts on mass transit in Minnesota: memories & more January 15, 2015

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MY EAST COAST COLLEGE son enthuses about mass transit, specifically about the T in Boston. It’s his go-to form of transportation if he’s not walking or unicycling.

The lack of wide-spread mass transit in Minnesota frustrates him. As I see it, cars, cost, lower population, and a much larger geographical area all factor into less public transportation availability here than out East.

I’ve reminded him that many a compact East Coast state would fit inside Minnesota’s borders. We don’t have nearly as many people living here as there.

The light rail heads toward the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

The light rail heads toward the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

To be fair, mass transit exists in Minnesota’s larger communities and cities with bus service and, in the Twin Cities metro, light rail. And even in rural areas, limited bus service is available in some counties.

Decades ago, when I visited my Aunt Rae and Uncle Bob each summer, riding the Greyhound bus solo from my Uncle Harold’s gas station along Highway 19 in Vesta in southwestern Minnesota all the way to downtown Minneapolis, I experienced big city mass transit.

An excited nervousness jittered through me as Rae and I boarded a Minneapolis city bus to wherever she wanted to take me. To the Munsingwear warehouse to sort through piles of fabric. Or maybe downtown to view an art exhibit. Specific destination details mostly elude me now all these decades later.

But the wonderment of wheeling along narrow city streets, the bus pulsating to a stop, door swishing open, passengers boarding, remains with me. To be young and in the big city hustle far from corn and soybean fields and bellowing cows opened my eyes.

I saw beyond rural. I saw the possibilities. Another life. Another world.

Not that I ever fell in love with the big city. But riding the bus through Minneapolis sparked something inside me. A yearning for art galleries and music and museums and architecture. A library. An appreciation for people who didn’t look like the German Lutherans and Catholics back home. An almost dizzying awareness of noise and lights and motion. And tall buildings.

Vehicle traffic and light rail meet at this oddly configured intersection near the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

Vehicle traffic and light rail meet at this oddly configured and confusing intersection near the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

I wonder if, today, a young girl from outstate Minnesota boards the Metro Blue Line (light rail) with her parents, perhaps headed to Target Field for a Twins game or to the Mall of America, and feels the same thrill I experienced decades ago riding the bus through the streets of Minneapolis.

Does she imagine the possibilities, study the faces, note the traffic, delight in her destination, desire to explore more of the city? Or is she overwhelmed by it all, wishing only to leave?

FYI: The Minnesota Department of Transportation has a statewide rail plan for an inter-city passenger rail line running from the metro to my community of Faribault and perhaps farther south. This proposal is in the early discussion stages. Click here to learn more.

Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Sleepy Eye: the man behind the name January 14, 2015

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WHEN I LIVED AND WORKED in Sleepy Eye for six months in the early 1980s, I didn’t fully appreciate this southwestern Minnesota community.

Mostly, I was too busy laboring away at my more than full-time job as a newspaper reporter and photographer for The Sleepy Eye Herald-Dispatch. Anyone who’s ever worked as a community journalist understands that the profession demands much time, energy and an endless skill set. Basically, I didn’t have a life outside of work.

Now that I’m much older and long ago realized that life should be about more than a profession, I realize what I missed. I may have covered the people, places and events of Sleepy Eye well. But I didn’t really notice. I didn’t take time to personally value sense of place.

A passing shot shows Chief Sleepy Eye's image painted on the water tower.

A passing shot shows Chief Sleepy Eye’s image painted on the water tower.

Like most small towns, Sleepy Eye possesses unique characteristics, most notably its name. The community is named after Sleepy Eye, a long ago chief of the Lower Sisseton Dakota. You’ll spot his image on the water tower, on the town’s welcome sign, on the public school website (the school mascot remains the Indians) and probably additional places.

Sleepy Eye seems to take positive historical pride in its name. And it should.

Painted on the sign, under the image of Chief Sleepy Eye, are these words: "Made possible by OSE member Willie of Kansas."

Painted on the sign, under the image of Chief Sleepy Eye, are these words: “Made possible by OSE member Willie of Kansas.”

On my last pass through Sleepy Eye en route to my hometown area further to the west, I noticed a painting of Chief Sleepy Eye on the side of a downtown building. The sign was strategically placed by a stoplight. So I snapped a quick frame while waiting for the light to turn green.

Later, studying the details of that image and after some Googling, I learned that Ish Tak Ha Ba is Chief Sleepy Eye’s name in his native Dakota tongue. And I discovered that an Old Sleepy Eye Collectors Club exists, focused on preserving Sleepy Eye antiques, memorabilia and collectibles.

One of these times traveling through Sleepy Eye, I am going to stop and explore. And this time I will really see the place I once called home. See and appreciate.

IF YOU KNOW SLEEPY EYE well, what are some must-sees there? Remember, I’m always seeking out the lesser-known, the unusual, the treasures.

Wherever you live, tell me what you would like visitors to see in your community.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A give-away: Win a down comforter January 13, 2015

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IF YOU LIVE in a cold weather state like me, where winters can be brutal and staying warm presents a challenge, I’d like to help.

Or more accurately, one of my readers, Virginia, would like to help.

The prize: a toasty warm white down comforter, left, with a green duvet cover, right.

The prize: a toasty warm white down comforter, left, with a green duvet cover, right. Photo courtesy of Virginia.

Virginia lives in Arizona. She has a king-sized down comforter that she can’t use because, well, Arizona is too warm. She wanted to gift the white comforter and accompanying green duvet cover to me after reading my recent post, “How I deal with some of winter’s challenges here in Minnesota.” I had complained about staying warm at night. Her king-size comforter, though, would be way too large for my full-sized bed.

That's Virginia, our generous donor, on the left.

That’s Virginia, our generous donor, on the left with children from Mexico, where she volunteers with Liga International, The Flying Doctors of Mercy. Virginia photographs the work Liga (means “League” in Spanish), a non-profit, does in Mexico providing free health care and education to the people there. For more information, go to ligainternational.org.

Then I had this thought. Maybe Virginia would be willing to give the warm bedding to someone else. I pitched the idea. She agreed.

Thus The Great Down Comforter Give-Away.

If you would like to win a gently-used (like half a dozen times) down comforter and duvet cover that Virginia will ship to you at no cost, then read on. Note that the bedding was used in a smoke-free home. Virginia has a cat, but the cat has not been on the comforter and she will have the bedding cleaned.

Here are the contest rules:

1) Will ship only within the United States, and preferably to a cold weather location.

2) Enter by submitting a comment on this post. You must state, in a maximum of five sentences or less, why you want to win this comforter. Hint: Judges (Virginia and I) are looking for creative answers that prove a true need for this bedding.

3) Entry deadline is noon Central Standard Time on Monday, January 19, 2015. The winner will be announced in a post published here on Thursday, January 22, 2015. The winner must reply with name and mailing address by Sunday, January 25, 2015, via the comments box to secure the prize. This information will not be published.

4) Members of my or Virginia’s immediate or extended families are not eligible to enter.

There you go. Enter The Great Down Comforter Give-Away. Now.

#

Thanks to Virginia for her kind and generous spirit.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Back to Boston January 12, 2015

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FRIDAY, 10:30 p.m.

I switch off the lamp. Two clicks. Pull the plug on the Christmas tree lights. Fold the fleece throw.

Then I step toward the couch, wait there until he looks up. He removes headphones, clamps his laptop closed. His arms reach up. Mine extend down. We pull each other close. Linger.

Tears edge my eyes. I cannot bear this moment, this final goodnight hug. He leaves tomorrow. After 23 days at home in Minnesota for holiday break.

I did a photo shoot of the son when he was back home in Minnesota. This was shot at the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf in Faribault.

I did a photo shoot of my 20-year-old son when he was back home. This was shot at the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf in Faribault.

I want to snapshot this moment, hold it forever in the memory of my soul. The scent of him. The brush of his curls against my face. The love between a mother and son.

Already I miss him.

 

SATURDAY, 3:05 p.m.

The son in the front passenger seat, his suitcase and other baggage rests next to me.

The son in the front passenger seat, his suitcase and other baggage next to me as we head to Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

I am seated behind my husband, our son to his, to my, right in the front passenger seat. Beside me rests his backpack. His suitcase leans against the door, butting a cardboard box crammed with board games and other stuff he’s taking back to Boston.

A side mirror on our van reflects traffic along Interstate 35.

A side mirror on our van reflects traffic along Interstate 35.

The Interstate miles roll by. We are mostly silent. Until my thoughts tumble into words. “It’s OK to call me sometimes.”

He turns toward me. “I know.”

In the rearview mirror, I glimpse my husband’s smile. He and the son exchange a look.

Crossing the Minnesota River Valley on Cedar Avenue.

Crossing the Minnesota River Valley on Cedar Avenue.

Soon we are bridging the Minnesota River, skirting the Mall of America, nearing the airport. Airliners roar a reminder of departure.

Fort Snelling Cemetery lies to the right as we near Terminal Two.

Fort Snelling Cemetery lies to the right as we near Terminal Two.

Signage points us toward Terminal Two. We pass by Fort Snelling National Cemetery, seemingly infinite rows of white tombstones unfolding before me. Sorrow. Tears. Sadness. Mothers missing sons.

The road curves. We are there, pulled to the curb. Door slid open. Suitcase out. Box out. We’re all out and then the son reaches inside for his backpack, hoists it onto his narrow shoulders.

Then he is between us, stretching his arms around us. Three into one.

Tears slide down my cheeks as he turns away, pulling his box-topped suitcase into the terminal.

Already I miss him.

A plane flies out of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

A plane flies out of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport late Saturday afternoon.

 

SATURDAY, 8:40 p.m.

Credits roll across the television screen. I turn my face into the corner of the sofa. Crying at the movie. Crying because I want my son home. Crying because I wonder where time goes and why our children must leave.

I turn toward the Christmas tree, lights blurring through the tears. Scent of honeysuckle from a burning candle perfumes the room. The furnace kicks in. I dry my eyes on the cuffs of my sweatshirt.

I pick up my cell phone, reread his messages.

5:35 p.m.: I’m on the plane.

6:52 p.m.: I arrived in Chicago.

He’s not even to Boston yet.

Already I miss him.

 

SATURDAY, 10:21 p.m.

My cell phone buzzes.

I click on the text message: Just landed in Boston.

 

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling