Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Focusing on the stats & stories of domestic abuse & violence in Minnesota October 17, 2023

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Lights glow purple on the Rice County Government Services building in Faribault in recognition of Domestic Violence Awareness Month. The moody sky fits the topic, the arrow on the pavement (from my perspective) pointing to hope, a way out of an abusive relationship. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

BEVERLY BOARDED THE GREYHOUND BUS, battered suitcase in hand, journal and hastily grabbed clothes zippered inside. She felt worn down. Exhausted. On this day, she chose to leave, to flee her husband’s physical, emotional and verbal abuse. As Beverly walked down the aisle to her seat, her mood lightened. But then she spotted Thomas approaching the bus, face flashing anger, clenched fists threatening.

This anthology, featuring Minnesota writers or those with a connection to Minnesota, includes my short story about domestic abuse. (Book cover image sourced online)

This account of domestic abuse is fictional. I wrote the story, “Evidence,” which recently published and received an honorable mention in Talking Stick 32, Twist in the Road, a Minnesota-based anthology of stories and poetry. Even I don’t know how Beverly’s story ends. Will Thomas bust through the doors of the bus, hunt down his wife? Kill her?

Every day across Minnesota and beyond, scenarios like Beverly’s unfold in real life. The faces and places and circumstances differ. But the threat is real, as real as my fictional version aimed to not only provide a suspenseful read but also to raise awareness about domestic abuse.

A promo for the “2022 Homicide Report.” (Source: Violence Free Minnesota Facebook page)

October marks Domestic Violence Awareness Month. And that began in Minnesota with the release of the “2022 Homicide Report: Relationship Abuse in Minnesota” by Violence Free Minnesota. The report states that “at least 24 people were killed due to intimate partner homicide in 2022.” A further break-down of that shows at least 20 women and one man died from intimate partner violence and at least three bystanders/intervenors also died. Their ages ranged from 13 to 66. They lived in all areas of Minnesota from rural to urban.

Margie Brown Holland (my former neighbor’s daughter) and her unborn daughter, Olivia, were murdered in 2013 in an act of domestic violence. Information about Margie was displayed on a t-shirt as part of The Clothesline Project exhibit I saw in Owatonna in 2015. This exhibit is available for display through Violence Free Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2015)

While statistics and summaries matter, it is the stories which make the greatest impact. This report includes those, along with photos of nearly every homicide victim. Those stories begin on page 47, well into the 66-page report which is packed with powerful information that really should be read by every adult.

I focused my attention first on Chandra Lanae Pelch of nearby Medford. The 18-year-old was shot six times by her boyfriend in a murder-suicide on June 3, 2022. While the profile on Chandra is short, it is enough to break my heart. She leaves behind an infant son and loving family and friends.

I was also drawn to the story of Isaac Jon Hoff, 13, stabbed to death by his mother’s boyfriend, now serving 17 years in prison for his murder. It’s another heartbreaking case of domestic violence, of a woman attempting to defend herself, of a man grabbing a knife from her hand, of a son stabbed as he stood behind his mother. They were under an order of protection against their attacker. Isaac, who was described as “spunky, big-hearted and loved,” managed to call 911. He died later at the hospital. Isaac was from small town Olivia in southern Minnesota.

And then there’s Kimberly Ann Robinson, 41, who was found dead from a gunshot wound and blunt force trauma injuries on the side of a road in Rochester. Her boyfriend has been charged in her murder. She was a mother of three.

An excerpt from the 2016 book “She Stays” by HOPE Center Director Erica Staab-Absher explains why a woman stays in an abusive relationship. (Text copyright of Erica Staab-Absher)

Each story in this report deserves attention, for each person lived and loved and was loved. None were to blame for their horrific deaths, just like Beverly in my fictional story did nothing to deserve the physical and emotional abuse inflicted upon her by her husband. Domestic abuse, at its core, is about power and control. Too often, people ask, “Why didn’t she just leave?” That, in essence, shifts blame to the victim. This report explains “why” in “VICTIM’S ATTEMPT TO LEAVE THE ABUSER.”

The “2022 Homicide Report” does a good job of revealing the “whys” and of expanding on domestic abuse/violence-related topics within the legal system, racial disparities, healthcare, economic abuse, public/workplace violence and more. The report also includes recommendations in each of those target areas. One section even makes recommendations to the media about covering domestic violence.

Inspirational and honoring words are embedded in a mosaic honoring Barb Larson, killed in an act of domestic violence at her workplace, the Faribault Area Chamber of Commerce and Tourism, on December 23, 2016. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

In the all of this, in the awfulness of these 24 deaths in Minnesota in 2022, we can all learn, grow our compassion, support and understanding, begin to recognize the warning signs of domestic abuse. There is hope and help available through advocacy groups and organizations, shelters and more. But it takes courage to seek help while under the power and control of an abuser. In my fictional story, Beverly found that courage on the day she grabbed her battered suitcase with her documenting journal zippered inside and boarded that Greyhound bus. But did she survive? The truth is, I don’t know.

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FYI: Talking Stick 32, Twist in the Road includes not only my fictional story about domestic abuse, but four other fictional short stories and two poems on the topic. Particularly powerful is the poem “At the Cafe” by Mary Scully Whitaker in which the author and a waitress witness emotional abuse and threats of violence against a woman, then intervene. The anthology, published by the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc, is available through Amazon.

If you are a victim of domestic abuse, know that help is available. Have a plan in place to leave safely, recognizing that leaving an abuser is a particularly dangerous time. You are not alone. And you are not to blame.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Light a candle in honor of the little ones October 15, 2023

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An empty buggy parked in a field of sunflowers was part of the IRIS Sunflower Garden planted in Faribault for the first time this summer. It offered a quiet place to contemplate, to grieve, to honor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2023)

TO LOSE A CHILD, whether in utero, to stillbirth, to SIDS or some other disease, illness or tragedy is to experience profound grief. It is unfathomable, yet reality for too many. It is heartbreaking and gut-wrenching and painful beyond words.

The IRIS house is located in central Faribault near downtown and near the Rice County courthouse and government services building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

This evening at 7 pm, Faribault-based Infants Remembered in Silence (IRIS) hosts a Wave a Light Gathering to honor the memories of those children lost too soon, whether pre-birth, in infancy or in childhood. October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. People around the world are invited to light a candle honoring those children in a collective show of love, support and care.

This moving sculpture defines the front yard flower garden of IRIS, where iris are currently blooming. Hearts will be placed inside the cradle this evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Locally that will happen at the IRIS office, 218 Third Avenue. The Faribault event includes the sharing of poems, songs and readings plus the placing of hearts in the empty cradle of the on-site bronze statue, “I Knew You In The Womb.” Attendees should arrive with candles and with hearts (with the names of lost little ones written thereon). Those hearts will be added to IRIS’ permanent collection.

More iris bloom in a side garden of IRIS. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

IRIS, a non-profit which started in my community, has grown to a world-wide outreach. It supports, advocates, educates, serves, comforts and much more and is truly an invaluable resource for anyone grieving the loss of an infant, a child.

Sunday morning two roses lay inside the otherwise empty cradle of the IRIS sculpture. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

So this evening, light a candle. And if you see blue and pink lights lighting a public structure like the 35W bridge, the Lowry Avenue Bridge or the IDS Center, all in Minneapolis, think of the sweet babies, the darling children, the dear little ones lost, and, oh, so loved.

FYI: For more information about IRIS, click here.

To read my earlier post about the IRIS Sunflower Garden, click here.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Bison: History, cultural importance, a film & a poem October 12, 2023

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Minneopa State Park near Mankato is home to 30-40 bison fenced on 325 acres of primarily prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

THEY ARE MASSIVE BEASTS, once roaming the American Great Plains by the millions. They are bison, also called buffalo, today numbering some 370,000 in North America. Most are raised as livestock. But some 31,000, or eight percent, are part of conservation herds, including right here in Minnesota. Such herds are designed to protect wild bison and preserve their genetic diversity.

Interpretive signage about bison overlooks the prairie at Minneopa State Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

An upcoming documentary, “The American Buffalo—A Story of Resilience” by awarding-winning filmmaker Ken Burns, and my own recently posted poem about bison prompted my renewed interest in this animal. Burns’ 4-hour film airs in two parts, at 7 pm on Monday, October 16, and on Tuesday, October 17, on PBS. His documentary traces the history of bison, their importance in Native peoples’ lives and culture, their near extinction, and efforts to bring them back.

Bison up close while driving through Minneopa State Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

My connection to bison began decades ago with childhood visits to Ramsey Park (in Redwood Falls), now also more appropriately called Cansayapi Park. Cansayapi in the Dakota language means “where they marked the trees red,” the traditional Minnesota River valley homeland of the Dakota. The Lower Sioux Indian Community is located near nearby Morton with an enrolled membership of 930 of the Mdewakanton Band of the Dakota.

A map, posted in Minneopa State Park, shows the prairie and historic bison territory in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

Given the region’s rich Native heritage, the presence of a small group of bison in the Ramsey Park Zoo seems fitting. I recall rushing to see the buffalo there, both excited and intimidated by their massive hulk. Today I’m not so much afraid as respectful of their size and their importance in Indigenous Peoples’ culture.

A sculpture of White Buffalo Calf Woman, part of Indigenous culture, displayed at the 2011 Mankato City Art Walking Sculpture Tour. Artwork by Lee Leuning and Sherri Treeby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2011 by Audrey Kletscher Helbling)

One need only look back in history to see how invaluable bison were to these original inhabitants of the prairie, the plains. Bison provided food, shelter, clothing and more to Indigenous Peoples. They also held spiritual and cultural significance. Bison were considered kin, respected by those who respected Mother Earth.

Bison at Minneopa State Park watering hole. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

And then the white man came in the 1800s, overtaking the land, nearly driving bison to extinction as they hunted and slaughtered the animal primarily for their hides.

Blue Mounds State Park in rural Rock County, Minnesota, is home to 80-90 bison, although I did not see them when I visited the park in 2013. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)

And so the story of bison is not only one of past atrocities in American history, but also one of personal history for me with those fenced bison in Minnesota’s largest municipal park, known as “The Little Yellowstone of Minnesota” for its beautiful natural topography seemingly like Yellowstone National Park. Yellowstone, the one in Wyoming, is home to nearly 6,000 bison.

A sign along the prairie’s edge at Minneopa State Park informs about bison in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

In my youth, I didn’t understand the importance of bison in Native culture. I simply delighted in seeing them in the zoo at then Alexander Ramsey Park in my native Redwood County. Neither did I recognize how offensive the name of the park I loved as a child—Alexander Ramsey Park. Alexander Ramsey served as our first territorial governor and then as the second state governor of Minnesota during the US-Dakota War of 1862. He offered a bounty to anyone who killed a Dakota person and called for Indigenous Peoples to be driven out of Minnesota.

This 67-ton Kasota limestone sculpture stands in Reconciliation Park in Mankato. It symbolizes the spiritual survival of the Dakota People and honors the area’s Dakota heritage. The park is the site of the largest mass hanging in U.S. history. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

With that backstory and an understanding of a period in Minnesota history marked by hatred and injustices, I paid homage to bison in a poem now gracing a sign in Mankato. Mahkato, a Dakota word which means “blue earth,” was the site of the largest mass execution in the United States on December 26, 1862. Thirty-eight Dakota, sentenced to death in sham trials for their roles in the US-Dakota War, were hung in Mankato.

My poem posted along a recreational trail in Mankato. (Photo credit: Kay Herbst Helms)

I wanted to honor the original inhabitants of Mahkato, the bison, the Native culture, the land. And so I wrote “The Mighty Tatanka,” using the Dakota word for bison. My poem was selected for inclusion in the Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride and is posted on a sign in West Mankato.

The Mighty Tatanka

Tatanka trips from my tongue
like the steady beat of horse hooves
pounding the prairie
in pursuit of massive beasts.

Bison. Honored. Sacred to the Dakota.
Source of life and food and shelter.
Once roaming, grazing, stampeding
this land upon which I stand.

While my poem is succinct, limited by wordage requirements in the poetry competition, I’d like to think “The Mighty Tatanka” is powerful. It holds not only the rhythm of carefully selected words, but a story. A story of bison, of Indigenous Peoples, of a way of life, of a culture. It holds, too, honor for the land and of those who first inhabited, and respected, it.

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FYI: My poem is posted on a sign along the West Mankato Trail near the intersection of Owatonna Street and Blue Earth and Sylvia Streets in West Mankato. You can listen to me read my poem by calling 507-403-4038 and entering 406.

Noted Minnesota wildlife photographer Jim Brandenberg’s (right in video) work, including this image of bison, is featured in a gallery bearing his name in Luverne, near Blue Mounds State Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)

To see Minnesota Bison Conservation Herd bison in Minnesota, visit Minneopa State Park near Mankato, Blue Mounds State Park near Luverne, the Minnesota Zoological Garden, Oxbow Park & Zollman Zoo by Byron, and Spring Lake Park Reserve Bison Prairie in Dakota County.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

 

First frost in Faribault October 10, 2023

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Flowers were covered to protect them from frost Monday morning at The River Church, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

FROST LAYERED WINDOWS of the neighbor’s 1970s Ford Gran Torino Monday morning. Frost also skimmed roofs, spotted lawns, nipped uncovered plants.

October 9 marked the first light frost in Faribault, a clear indication of winter’s impending arrival.

There was a time when I would have raced around the evening before a predicted frost, covering plants with old sheets. The desire ran strong to extend autumn by keeping outdoor flowers and other plants alive. No more. I no longer plant flowers in pots like I once did given the cost and work. Rather, I rely on primarily perennials to splash color and greenery into my yard.

Cyclamen. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Only the oregano, rosemary and cyclamen, which I winter over, needed protection from Monday’s below freezing temps. So Randy carried those pots into the garage in the dark of Sunday evening.

Monday morning we arose to that first frost, turned on the furnace for the first time this fall, then slipped on our jackets, stocking caps and gloves and headed to Central Park for our morning walk. City employees were already there, shortly after 8 am, loading picnic tables and park benches onto a trailer and pick-up truck bed for winter storage.

Across the street, a lawn service company edged the sidewalk of grass at an apartment complex, making for easier snow removal come winter.

Across the street from the apartments, blankets and tarps draped flowers and plants at The River Church.

In the brilliant sunshine of this cold October morning, we walked away from and around Central Park, pausing to chat briefly with a Korean War veteran shoving his walker along the sidewalk. It’s part of his morning routine. He was an engineer in the war, tasked once with building a bridge in Korea. His brothers also served in various wars. All came home.

Home. On this day this veteran shared how he misses his lake home, how his children convinced him to move into cooperative senior living housing by the park. He shouldn’t have listened to his kids, he said, sadness tinging his voice.

Enjoying a summer concert at Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2020)

Change. It can be tough. Randy and I continued on in the inevitable change of seasons. Past the band shell, where seniors and others once settled onto park benches, picnic tables and lawn chairs for summer concerts. And then back to the van for the drive home in the bright sunshine.

The backyard maple, still mostly green in early October. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Back home I pulled laundry from the washing machine, carted the basket up the basement stairs, opened the door to the boldness of October, to the backyard maple still mostly green. It’s been an odd autumn of up and down temps which messed with fall colors.

I unwound the clothesline, then began clipping laundry on the line. Methodically. Placing heavier items like bluejeans in the full sun. Soon my fingertips felt the cold—from the cold morning and the dampness of the cold clothes.

And then, when I finished, I stepped inside the garage, carried out the pots of oregano, rosemary and cyclamen into the balminess of 40-degree temps.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A look at Taopi, plus an overview of failures, injustices & war in Minnesota October 9, 2023

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Just inside the entrance to Maple Lawn Cemetery, a sign directs visitors to Taopi’s gravesite. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

MY GOAL WAS SIMPLE—to write a piece honoring Indigenous Peoples’ Day. My focus, I initially decided, would be on Taopi, a member of the Little Crow Band of the Mdewakanton Dakota Tribe. Taopi is perhaps best known in Faribault, where he lived for a while and is buried. A small Mower County town near the Iowa border also honors him in name. But my writing expanded beyond Taopi.

Taopi’s grave, and that of his daughter, are easily spotted via the propped poles. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

Recently I visited Taopi’s gravesite at Maple Lawn Cemetery. My interest piqued. I wanted to learn more about this Dakota leader and his importance in my community and in Minnesota history. His place in history connects to the US-Dakota War of 1862, a war all too familiar to me. My native Redwood County, where the Lower Sioux Agency was located, centered that deadly, short-lived conflict between white people and Native Peoples.

Now, viewing this war through a lens not tinted primarily by a white perspective, I understand the injustices. Decades ago, when I wrote a high school term paper on the war, I admittedly wrote a biased, unbalanced report based on biased, unbalanced research sources.

With time and maturity came the realization of the great injustices done, first when the US government acquired Indigenous Peoples’ land at a seemingly low cost and then failed to honor those treaties. The treaties opened nearly 24 million acres to white settlers. It was the Natives, the original inhabitants of this land, who found themselves cheated of government annuities, starving, pushed off their land and confined to strips of land along the Minnesota River. That includes the Wahpekute, a small band of the Dakota who lived in south central Minnesota, including the Faribault area. I live just below a Faribault city park called Wapacuta.

An exhibit at the Rice County Historical Society Museum. Artifacts from Indigenous Peoples are also displayed in cases. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

At the time of the US-Dakota War of 1862, Taopi was in the thick of all of it as a “farmer Indian,” the name tagged to Native Peoples who opted to farm, adapting the ways of the white man in occupation, dress and sometimes religion. He lived near the Lower Sioux Agency, relocated to a reservation there following the Treaty of Mendota in 1851. Those who continued with their hunting and fishing culture were known as “blanket Indians.” Taopi assuredly felt the animosity of his own people for the lifestyle and other choices he made.

A woodcarving of Taopi by noted Faribault artist Ivan Whillock is for sale in the Rice County Historical Society Museum’s gift shop. One is also displayed in a museum exhibit on Taopi. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

I can only imagine the pressure Indigenous Peoples experienced as white settlers moved into the area. The change, at times, had to feel overwhelming. Life would never be the same. Long-time homelands were lost, tradition and culture endangered. And so Taopi and others adapted, likely accepting that change was inevitable.

The gravesite of Taopi and his daughter, Cornelia Whipple Taopi (named after Cornelia Whipple, married to Bishop Henry Whipple). (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

But one thing that remained constant with Taopi was his focus on peace. He opposed the war and was a leader in the Dakota Peace Party. He is credited with saving the lives of many.

Yet, at war’s end, Taopi found himself caught—disliked by his peoples, who considered him a traitor, and disliked by whites holding a deep animosity toward any Native person. In Faribault, though, he had a friend in Bishop Henry Whipple, a strong advocate for First Peoples, and in town founder Alexander Faribault. Eventually, Taopi and other Natives moved onto land owned by Alexander Faribault, living under his protection on a bluff overlooking the Straight River. Taopi died in 1869. In 1895, the Indigenous Peoples of Faribault were displaced once again, moved to the Lower Sioux Reservation. They had always existed on the fringes in Faribault, never fully-accepted by most residents while under the protection of the bishop and town founder.

Dana Hanson’s “Father’s of Faribault” (left to right, Alexander Faribault, Taopi and Bishop Henry Whipple) featured on a bench along Central Avenue in downtown Faribault. The same artwork hangs inside Buckham Memorial Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

And so that is a brief look at Taopi, whose gravesite I visited. His presence remains visible elsewhere in Faribault. He’s featured in an exhibit at the Rice County Historical Society Museum. A “Fathers of Faribault” portrait of Taopi, Bishop Whipple and Alexander Faribault by Dana Hanson hangs at Buckham Memorial Library. Just a block to the north, that same artwork graces an historic-themed bench. Taopi was, most assuredly, a man of importance in local and state history. I will remember him primarily as a man of peace in a time when peace was decidedly elusive.

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© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Sources: The First Cathedral, an Episcopal Community for Mission by Benjamin Ives Scott and Robert Neslund; the Minnesota Historical Society website; and the Rice County Historical Society Museum’s Taopi display.

 

In Seaforth: Celebrating books, art & people October 4, 2023

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Promo for Saturday’s event, courtesy of Elizabeth Johanneck.

THEY ARE LONG-TIME FRIENDS. Friends who grew up together, who have a history of experiences and stories and of being there for one another. And they are both authors of books rooted in rural Redwood County, the land which shaped and grew them and their enduring friendship.

On Saturday, October 7, Twin Cities resident Elizabeth “Beth” Johanneck, author of If You Can’t Make it to Heaven, at Least Get to Seaforth—The Monica Stories and Then Some, and Granite Falls resident Cynthia “Cindy” Bernardy Lavin, author of the children’s book I Think I’ll Call You Annie: Based Upon a True Story (which Beth illustrated), return to Seaforth, population 77, for a 1-4 pm event sure to draw lots of interest.

The C4th Bar hosts the afternoon activities, which include a meet-and-greet (1-3 pm) with the authors and Monica Pistulka Fischer, prominently featured in Beth’s collection of short stories and art from the Seaforth and Wabasso areas. Books will be available for purchase.

Event promo courtesy of Elizabeth Johanneck.

But there’s much more planned than a book signing and time to chat with the long-time friends. The event also includes a hayride and self-guided tour of St. Mary’s Cemetery just northwest of Seaforth. Attendees can visit the gravesites of locals included in both books.

Image sourced online.

Back at the bar, Cindy, a retired elementary school teacher, will read her book about Seaforth’s most famous pig and offer a pig art project for kids.

The original painting of “Seaforth Main Street,” featured here on the cover of Beth’s book, will be on display at Saturday’s celebration. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)

Art is an important part of this celebration as art is an integral part of Beth’s book. Her book includes the only printed collection of selected paintings by her grandfather, Arnold Kramer, dubbed “Minnesota’s Grandpa Moses.” He documented early to mid 1900s rural life and scenes, creating an historical agrarian treasure of some 400 paintings upon his retirement from farming. His original painting, “Seaforth Main Street,” which graces the cover of Beth’s book, will be displayed at Saturday’s celebration.

The C4th Bar is also honoring Kramer and several other Seaforth residents (and one pig) with special drinks: “The Grandpa Moses” for folk artist Arnold Kramer; “The Angie” for business owner Angie Bergen; “The Monica” for Monica Pistulka Fischer; and “The Annie” for Dana and Connie Dittbenner and Annie the Pig. “The Monica” and “The Annie” are non-alcoholic drinks. Hot chocolate and make your own s’mores will also be available.

No event is complete without music. The celebration features the live music of Cowboy Dave Gewerth.

It will be quite an afternoon in Seaforth. I can almost envision the scene of a packed bar, of Beth and Cindy mingling, of glasses raised, of stories shared, of memories made. That’s the thing about small towns, especially—you may leave, but you remain forever connected to the place, the events, the people. Like Beth and Cindy, long-time friends who on Saturday return to their roots to celebrate publication of their books, but, more importantly, Seaforth and its residents.

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FYI: To purchase If You Can’t Make it to Heaven, at Least Get to Seaforth—The Monica Stories and Then Some, click here. (Also available through Barnes & Noble and independent bookstores, including Chapter Two Bookstore in Redwood Falls.) To read my review of the book, click here.

To purchase I Think I’ll Call You Annie, click here. Also available at independent bookstores and Barnes & Noble.

Disclaimer: I edited and proofed the manuscript for Beth’s book. My poem, “Her Treasure,” is printed in the book as a companion piece. Beth, Cindy and I attended Wabasso High School together, graduating with the class of 1974. Beth and I were also lockermates.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Lutefisk, bars, kolacky, horseradish & more October 3, 2023

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Across the cornfield stands Vang Lutheran Church north of Kenyon and home to an annual lutefisk supper. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2011)

IN THIS SEASON of church dinners, I am reminded of an event I covered decades ago as a young reporter fresh out of Minnesota State University, Mankato, with a journalism degree. My editor assigned me to write about and photograph the annual Lutefisk Dinner (or maybe it was supper) at Bernadotte Lutheran in Bernadotte, an unincorporated community northeast of New Ulm.

Having heard a few things about lutefisk—cod soaked in lye—I was in no hurry to undertake this assignment. But work is work and I eventually headed to this rural church to get the story. I don’t recall all the details from that late 1970s introduction to lutefisk. But I do remember a hardworking crew of volunteers, enthusiastic diners packing the church basement and my first taste of this Scandinavian seafood. A generous dose of melted butter made lutefisk, which reminded me of warm Jell-O, palatable. Sorry, Norwegians.

A sign promoting Vang’s 2014 Lutefisk & Meatball Supper. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

Lutefisk dinners remain popular in Minnesota’s Scandinavian enclaves. Like Vang Lutheran, rural Dennison, hosting a Lutefisk and Meatball Dinner on Wednesday, October 11, starring lutefisk and Norwegian meatballs with gravy plus fruit soup, lefse and Norwegian pastries. On Saturday, October 14, First Lutheran in Blooming Prairie is also serving a Lutefisk and Meatball Dinner. Except their meatballs are Swedish (what’s the difference?). Sorry, folks, all three dine-in seatings at First Lutheran are sold out, proving just how popular lutefisk dinners are in these parts. The Blooming Prairie lutefisk dinners have been around since 1934.

Bars. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

BARS & BARS, NOT TO BE CONFUSED

This got me thinking about ethnic and unusual foods some of us love and others of us don’t. For example, this past July while vacationing in the central Minnesota lakes area, I came across turkey gizzards and pickled eggs prominently displayed on an end cap at a Crosslake grocery store. You couldn’t pay me to try the gizzards, priced at $12.49 for 16 ounces. But I’d give pickled eggs a try. Apparently there’s a market in Paul Bunyan country for these delicacies. And in some Minnesota bars, not to be confused with the bars we Minnesotans eat.

Ah, bars. They hold two definitions. I recall my native-born California son-in-law’s confusion about bars. It took a bit of explaining for him to understand that bars, besides a place to imbibe, are also, in Minnesota, a sweet treat that is not a cookie, cake or brownie. But similar, made in a cake pan and cut into squares.

Prune kolacky ready to bake at Franke’s Bakery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2013)

KOLACKY OR SAUERKRAUT

Then there are kolacky, a Czech pastry unknown to me until I moved to this region. It was at Franke’s Bakery in nearby Montgomery, self-proclaimed “Kolacky Capital of the World,” that I first tasted this dough into which prunes, apples, raspberries, blueberries and other fruit or a poppy seed filling are folded. Kolacky are so popular in this Czech stronghold that Franke’s baked nearly 1,800 dozen of the treats for the annual town celebration, Kolacky Days, in July. That’s a whole lot of kolacky, like nearly 22,000.

Me? I prefer a Bismarck oozing with custard. And, yes, I am German, which might also explain my love of sauerkraut. Henderson, where my paternal great grandparents settled upon arriving in America, celebrates Sauerkraut Days annually. And, yes, there’s a sauerkraut eating contest. I grew up eating homemade sauerkraut fermented from cabbage grown in our large garden. My grandma made kraut and my dad thereafter.

Homemade horseradish in jars. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2012)

HOW ABOUT HORSERADISH OR COTTAGE CHEESE PIE?

Dad also made horseradish, a tradition which continues in my extended family today, 20 years after his death. Horseradish seems an acquired taste. Not everyone likes a condiment that burns nostrils, clears sinuses, waters eyes, nips the tongue. But I do.

And once upon a time I also ate SPAM, a canned meat made in Austin, Minnesota, and wildly popular in Hawaii. I liked it in Pizza Burgers—SPAM, onion and American cheese ground in a hand-cranked meat grinder and then canned chili (without beans) stirred in. I haven’t quite figured out the “without beans” in chili. Mom made and spread the mix on homemade bun halves, broiled until the cheese bubbled. Yum. I no longer eat SPAM. Or Jell-O. Make that red Jell-O with bananas, a staple of extended family gatherings many decades ago.

On the shelves at Reed’s Market in Crosslake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Food, in many ways, connects to memories, traditions, heritage. You won’t find me eating peanut butter on pancakes or Cottage Cheese Pie, food oddities my husband brought into our marriage. I don’t much like pancakes and I’ve never made the Helbling signature pie. Nor have I made my mom’s favorite pie, Sour Cream Raisin. But I love cottage cheese and I eat Raisin Bran cereal. Just don’t ask me to eat turkey gizzards. Or lutefisk. Once was enough for this writer.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Spotlighting cancer in the light of hope October 2, 2023

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:06 PM
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Purple spotlights transformed trees to shades of purple. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

IN THE EARLY EVENING DARKNESS of Faribault’s Central Park, on an unseasonably summery September Saturday, I felt enveloped in a magical world of autumn leaves sparkling purple. The setting seemed surreal, magical, enchanting. And the feeling felt hopeful.

Musician Steve Huber performed first followed by Joe and the Mechanics in the Central Park Bandshell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

I was among hundreds gathered for the first-ever Light of Hope Celebration to recognize those lost to cancer, those battling cancer, those who’ve survived cancer…and those of us who love (d) them. Purple spotlights shone on trees centering the park, creating a serene, yet celebratory, scene while musicians performed in the bandshell, speakers spoke and kids engaged in activities just for them.

An autumn-themed luminary for a cancer survivor. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

My focus, though, was on the hundreds of luminaries lining the sidewalks that edged and crisscrossed this central community gathering spot. I walk here daily, among the towering trees and scampering squirrels. The din of traffic, the presence of others, the locations of St. Vincent de Paul and the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour across the streets are all reminders that Faribault truly is about community. We need one another. And I felt, at this event, a strong sense of community, of coming together, of leaning on one another.

Gathering to talk, to listen to music, to celebrate. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

I felt such love as I hugged the local x-ray tech who did my recent mammogram. I assured her my results were good. She and I have a history, meeting several years ago in the hospital ER when I broke my wrist. I hugged others, too, whom I haven’t seen in a while. It felt right, to reach out and encircle these individuals who, at some point, have been there for me, whether personally or professionally. And if my cousin and a friend, who are currently undergoing chemotherapy for aggressive, advanced breast cancer, had been there, I would have held them close in prolonged hugs also.

I saw so much love written upon luminaries by those who lost loved ones to cancer. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

Twenty years ago I was on the receiving end of many hugs as I stood inside my hometown church, St. John’s Lutheran in Vesta, embracing family and friends at the death of my dad. He died of esophageal cancer and other health issues. At the cemetery, I wrapped my arm around my mom, shaking with cold and grief on that brutal winter day. She was a breast cancer survivor.

Many family—including my husband, a sister and sister-in-law—and friends have survived cancer. Many family—including a dear nephew and aunt—and friends have died of cancer. And today many in my circle are battling cancer, including a much-beloved cousin, a brother-in-law and a dear friend. Cancer is brutal and awful and horrible. And it seemingly spares no family.

A beautiful hope sign suspended in the center of the park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

But there is hope. In the support of others. In events like the one on Saturday organized by the Light of Hope Cancer Foundation with a mission “to empower local cancer patients and families to focus on treatment and healing by providing immediate and practical financial support while advocating and fundraising for research, education and cancer prevention.” There is strength in a supportive and caring community.

A survivors’ tent, right, offered survivors of cancer a place to gather, celebrate and enjoy cake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

And there is hope, too, in knowing options are available for treatment. That is also personal for me as my uncle, Dr. Robert M. Bowman, developed the drug Letrozole (Femara), approved by the Food and Drug Administration in 1998 to treat certain types of breast cancer in post-menopausal women. Today, as my retired chemist uncle lies in hospice suffering from Parkinson’s, his wife, my beloved Aunt Dorothy, tells me how grateful Robin feels for having created a life-saving drug. He gave women hope.

I shot this scene shortly before leaving at 7:45 pm. So beautiful…the luminaries, the trees morphed purple by spotlights. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

As I walked among the hundreds of luminaries, first in the light of early evening and then in the darkness, I remembered, grieved silently, contemplated, celebrated… And I felt hope. Strong, beautiful, powerful hope.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The centenarian, the seamstress & the tortoise September 27, 2023

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:03 PM
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Audrey Kletscher Helbling and Mickey Nelson inside The Junk Monkey. (Copyrighted photo by Randy Helbling, September 2023)

IN THE EVERYDAY MOMENTS of life, I often strike up conversations with strangers given my innate desire to hear their stories, to connect, to learn, or simply to show I care. Through such encounters, I’ve met the most delightful individuals.

THE CENTENARIAN

Take Mickey Nelson, 103, of Clarks Grove.

“You’re 103?” I overheard the question, edged with disbelief, while recently browsing a local vintage, collectibles and treasures shop. That was enough for me to pause and head to the front of the store to meet this centenarian engaged in conversation with shopkeeper Theresa.

When I spotted Mickey, I understood why Theresa sounded so incredulous. Mickey looked not a day over 80. His smile, which reached his eyes, exuded positivity, joy. And then I heard his story, realizing I’d heard it three years earlier.

Mickey is, in every way, extraordinary. In 2020, he walked 100 miles in his small southern Minnesota community to celebrate his 100th birthday. He didn’t walk just to walk. Mickey walked for a purpose, to raise money for the Salvation Army. And he raised a whole lot—$115,000, his daughter Michelle said.

I was beyond impressed by this WW II veteran and his generosity. Mickey remembered the bread lines during the Great Depression. That sparked his 100-mile mission to gather monies for Salvation Army food assistance during COVID-19. A similar effort by an aged veteran in England, who walked 100 laps in his garden during the pandemic and raised $30 million for Britain’s healthcare system, also proved motivating for Mickey.

On this day, I felt honored to meet Mickey, whose story was broadly shared in the media in 2020, the reason it was familiar to me. I decided right then and there that I wanted my photo taken with this celebrity, a remarkable man not only for his generosity of spirit, but also for the spirit of joyfulness he exudes.

Virginia Malecha displays two of her tote bags, among creations she was vending at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)

THE SEAMSTRESS

The same can be said for Virginia Malecha of Millersburg, whom I met while enjoying a pork burger during a recent event at the local co-op. She, like Mickey, exudes joy. And she, like Mickey, is generous. Virginia has sewn 200 cloth bags for patrons to use at the Northfield Public Library. As we talked, I learned that this seamstress has been sewing since age nine. She clearly enjoys the craft, stitching totes from recycled materials (such as clothing and duvets) and from her fabric stash collected through the decades.

Virginia invited me to stop at the Faribault Farmers’ Market to view more of her creations, including dish towels she machine embroiders, scrubbies and more. Two days later, I did just that. I was impressed by this kind, generous and friendly woman. She not only sews, but also taught herself to play the concertina and raised her family on a dairy farm (another connection given I grew up on a dairy farm). I asked to take her photo. I wanted to remember her beautiful smile and how she, like Mickey, inspired me. And it all started with a conversation over burgers in a co-op parking lot.

Not a tortoise, but a turtle, which is nearly as slow as a tortoise. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2020)

THE TORTOISE

And then there was the recent afternoon I met Paul (whose last name I never got) in the same park where Virginia vended her wares. He was walking, just like my husband and me. Randy and I were, however, going at a much faster pace. That led to a humorous moment, when Paul called us the hares, himself a tortoise. But, I reminded him, the tortoise wins the race.

On this day, though, I truly was the winner given the conversation that followed. We chatted a bit about retirement and other topics. But even before Paul mentioned that he was a retired Lutheran pastor from New Richland now relocated and living across the street from the park, I recognized his compassion. He listened as I shared about my neurological health issues caused by a virus in early January. His wife, he said, suffered a traumatic brain injury. Her challenges in many ways mimic mine. I felt, in that moment, understood, uplifted and incredibly thankful for this caring man.

Like Mickey and Virginia, we connected in an everyday moment of life. And I am the better for having met the three of them—the centenarian, the seamstress and the tortoise.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

No more VR roller coasters for this graduate September 26, 2023

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2016)

CUE “POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE.” Wednesday, September 20, marked graduation day for me. After six months of vestibular rehab therapy at Courage Kenny Rehabilitation Institute in Faribault, I graduated.

It was a milestone day for me in managing the neurological issues I’ve faced following a *viral infection in early January. Twenty-one therapy sessions later and I’m much-improved. Not cured. Not fixed. Not all better. I’ll never be the same as I was pre-virus. But, through targeted therapy exercises, a lot of hard work and simply easing back into life, I’ve built my tolerance for everyday experiences. I can better handle sensory input. I can walk without feeling unbalanced. I can manage beyond sitting in a room with the curtains drawn to shut out light, windows closed to keep out noise.

I still have challenging days. I still struggle. But I am in a much better place than even a month ago.

And so I graduated. Not because I wanted to leave Courage Kenny and my incredibly knowledgeable, supportive and caring therapist. But Ryan and I mutually agreed that I was ready. And so he asked, on that final day together, whether he should cue “Pomp and Circumstance” on his laptop, the same laptop he used to introduce me to virtual reality roller coasters as part of my therapy. I told him we could pass on the music. And I am happy to pass on roller coaster rides.

But I did bring celebratory homemade carrot cake cupcakes with homemade cream cheese frosting. Ryan laughed when I walked through the door carrying that box of cupcakes to share with the Courage Kenny team. When I’d asked the week prior if we would have graduation cake, he said only if I brought it. So I did, along with a thank you card and homemade chocolate chip cookies for this professional who worked tirelessly to improve my health. I always felt like we were a team.

And now, like any new graduate, I hold the knowledge and tools that will help me handle daily living. I participated in class (kinda hard not to when you’re the only student). I did the assigned homework each week. I followed through by getting back into the real world, sometimes failing in my efforts, sometimes succeeding. I’ve done my best, through tears and discouragement and struggles, to rise above the challenges. And now I’ve graduated. Onward.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

* Even though I self-tested negative twice for COVID in January, my primary care doctor believes I had COVID, the cause of my multiple, ongoing neurological issues.