Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

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

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

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

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

WRITING WITH AUTHENTICITY

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

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

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

HELP, HOPE & STIGMA

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

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

HUNTING & HOTDISH

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

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

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Valuing kids’ art June 20, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections on Juneteenth June 19, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEARY OF OATMEAL

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

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

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

JUST WANTING TO BE WELL

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

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

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

TIME TO CALM THOSE NERVES IN MY BRAIN

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

A THEORY, GUESS OR WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT

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

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

PHYSICAL THERAPY CONTINUES

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

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

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

WITH GRATITUDE

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

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reminded of the importance of farmers June 16, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Mary the tortoise goes missing June 13, 2023

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Missing tortoise poster. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

HOW DO YOU LOSE a tortoise? I don’t have the answer and didn’t call to ask. But on Faribault’s east side, Mary the tortoise has gone missing.

I spotted a sign recently for the disappearing reptile on the corner of Ravine Street and Sixth Avenue Northeast. I’ve seen many lost dog and cat posters in Faribault. But a tortoise? Never.

Of course, I instantly thought of the fable, “The Tortoise and the Hare,” in which the slow-moving but determined tortoise wins the race against the confident, boastful rabbit. While the hare naps, the tortoise keeps going. In the end, the loser realizes that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t have been so mocking of the tortoise. It’s a good lesson for anyone. It’s OK to be confident, but not at the expense of putting down others.

Back to tortoises. Many years ago, one showed up on our driveway on a summer afternoon. What a surprise. No one expects an errant tortoise on their property. A cat or dog, yes. But an over-sized reptile, no.

My brave brave second daughter scooped that tortoise up, despite my motherly warning not to do so (hey, I didn’t know how the reptile would react), and carried it back home across busy Willow Street. How our neighbor’s tortoise escaped and then safely crossed the street still baffles me.

Just like Mary. What happened to her? And where, oh where, has that not-so-little tortoise gone?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

While doing my therapy assignment, an uninvited dinner guest shows up June 9, 2023

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Kinda how my brain feels, broken and trying to piece itself back together. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

LIVING WITH CHALLENGING duo health diagnoses like mine of vestibular neuronitis and Meniere’s Disease means my life has altered considerably. Some days are good. Some days are bad. And others are a mix. I can never predict how I may feel on any given day.

But I’m determined to do the best I can to manage what has now become a part of living. My physical therapist, with whom I’ve met eight times already, has been a great support in providing brain re-training exercises and encouragement. My balance is better. My double vision is easing. My tolerance to noise is improving. Certainly not like I was pre all of this, but I’ll take any improvement.

These railroad tracks lead to The Depot Bar & Grill in the distance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

JUST DOING MY HOMEWORK

My last assignment from Ryan, my vestibular rehab therapist, was to get out into the real world, even dine at a restaurant. I took my homework and ran with it, maybe too far. Saturday morning Randy and I stopped at a garage sale and then went grocery shopping at two stores. By the time we reached the second grocer, which is considerably larger, noisier and busier than the first, I felt my symptoms flaring from the sensory overload. Oh, boy, how would I manage lunch with his sister?

With a bit of time before lunch, I closed my eyes, rested and tried to settle my hardworking brain.

Soon my sister-in-law Cheryl arrived and we were off to The Depot Bar & Grill, housed in an historic depot along the train tracks next to the river. It’s a lovely place with typically good food. I asked to be seated in a quiet area, explaining that I have sensory issues, especially with sound. I thought I could handle it. After all, I’d been training myself at home by listening to white noise city traffic, roaring waterfalls, crashing thunderstorms while moving my hands near my face. Enough practice and I was managing that noise symptom-free.

Dining tables are right next to the train track at The Depot. A train passed during a previous patio meal there. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

A WHOLE LOT OF TOO MUCH FOR MY BRAIN

But practice is not reality. As we settled at our lower level table with only two other dining tables in that section occupied, I thought, “This won’t be too hard.” But then, as more people filled the restaurant and the volume of conversations increased, I felt my head hurting, my eyes hurting, the constant roar of people’s voices making me feel worse and worse. Finally, I conceded that we’d have to move to the patio. It was too much for me. Our waitress was generously accommodating.

She warned us ahead of time that the cottonwood trees along the Straight River were dropping their fluffy white seeds. That they were. As the white fluff swirled and danced and fell upon our table, I felt like we were in a snowstorm. After our food arrived, Cheryl covered her plate with a napkin. I didn’t, nor did Randy. Fluff landed in my water. I still wasn’t feeling well.

I tried to hang in there, taking only small bites of my French dip sandwich, offering the chips (I’m avoiding salt) to my table-mates. I tried to shut out the conversation of the two women dining near us. But their voices, even though not really loud, sounded loud to me. I tried to engage in conversation with Randy and his sister, whom we haven’t seen in a long time. It was a lot for my brain to handle—juggling listening, talking, surrounding noise, visual of swirling white fluff, staff up and down the nearby steps, traffic sounds (thankfully no train).

A dead rattlesnake inside a case at Grizzly Canyon, an antique shop in Sleepy Eye. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

AN UNEXPECTED DISTRACTION

Then in the midst of this feeling awful and trying to get through this meal, I saw a long snake slither from across the railroad tracks, under the wrought iron fence and onto the patio. It slid toward the nearby empty table, under the chairs, briefly lifting its head as if to inspect. I wasn’t scared, just thankful it was not by us. The snake drew significant attention. Had I been feeling better, I would have pulled out my cellphone to take pictures. Others did, before the snake reversed and headed back toward the tracks, back toward the grassy river bank. A guy identified the snake as a gopher snake. I knew this was not a garter snake, as the women next to us said. I would have guessed rattlesnake, which shows how little I know about snakes. I know only that I don’t like snakes.

After that excitement, we continued with our meals, me mostly leaning my head into my hand in an effort to at least stay until the others finished eating. Finally, I said, “We have to leave.” My symptoms had flared out of control. I tried. And, if anything, I came home with an interesting story to tell about the uninvited dinner (technically lunch) guest down by the (former) train station.

FYI: The non-profit Vestibular Disorder Association, is a great resource to learn about vestibular disorders. Click here.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When a motorist loses control outside our house June 8, 2023

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Damage done to the boulevard. Our bedroom was in the direct path of an errant vehicle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

THE SQUEAL OF TIRES, followed by thuds, disrupted our almost-asleep state of being Tuesday evening. “What was that?” I asked Randy. I was more curious than alarmed.

We live along a busy street in Faribault. Odd and loud noises are not uncommon. But, on a week night at 11 pm, this did seem out of the ordinary. Randy waited a bit, then rolled out of bed to check. Curiosity will always get you. He saw nothing except a torn-up patch of boulevard grass outside our bedroom window. No vehicle in sight.

I asked if we should call the police. “What would they do?” Randy asked. He was right. We had nothing to report except the sounds and the displaced patch of lawn. The vehicle was long gone.

Black marks on the pavement show how the vehicle veered out of the traffic lane toward and over the curb. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

Morning shed more light on the situation. Black tire tracks curved toward the curb next to the boulevard. It is likely accurate to assume that a driver was going too fast down Tower Place (the hilly side street by our corner lot) and lost control while turning onto Willow Street. Oops. Should have slowed down and stopped at the bottom of the hill. We’re just thankful he/she did not continue on, plowing into our bedroom.

If I was a forensic investigator, I could determine the make and model of the vehicle based on this part left behind on the damaged lawn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

This is not the first time we’ve dealt with vehicle-related issues on our property. A tire once fell off a car and rolled down the hill, slamming into the side of our house, just missing the gas meter and pipe. Other times vehicles have jumped the curb on icy streets. One landed half-way across our side yard, taking out the stop sign on the way.

Lawn litter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2023)

While outside examining the lawn damage and tire tracks Wednesday morning, I happened upon a rectangular box tossed on the grass near the stop sign. It was an empty box once containing 2.0 grams of Sunset Sherbert hybrid distillate disposable vape. Pluto Labs, THE FUTURE OF CANNABIS, LIVE RESIN, the box read. I don’t pretend to know much about cannabis, except that the Minnesota legislature recently approved the use of recreational marijuana. But that doesn’t take effect until August 1.

Then I flipped the box to read that this was a SCHEDULED 1 CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE… THE INTOXICATING EFFECTS OF THIS PRODUCT MAY BE DELAYED UP TO TWO HOURS. THIS PRODUCT MAY IMPAIR THE ABILITY TO DRIVE OR OPERATE MACHINERY, PLEASE USE EXTREME CAUTION.

It made me wonder. Did the out-of-control driver toss this empty box from his/her vehicle just before rounding the corner and then slamming into and jumping the curb onto our lawn? The dots seem to connect.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling