Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Of birthday gifts, baseball & card collecting April 10, 2025

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My granddaughter’s 2024 birthday cake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2024)

RECENTLY, I WANDERED the aisles of a Big Box retailer searching for Pokemon cards. I needed a birthday gift for my granddaughter, who collects these popular trading and game cards. After walking aisle after aisle without success, I was about to give up. But then I spotted and flagged down a store employee who directed me toward the book section to the Pokemon and other cards.

I stood in front of the display scanning the packets, my eyes never landing on the word Pokemon. My frustration level was growing. I just wanted to be done with this seemingly fruitless search. I even asked a middle schooler to help me as he, too, perused the card merch. He directed me back to the toy aisles. Long story short, I eventually found the location of those coveted Pokemon cards on an end cap. The shelf was empty. There would be no new Pokemon cards for Izzy to add to her collection.

A feature I wrote in 1979 about brothers Mike and Marc Max and their collection of 7,000 sports cards was republished in the June 4, 2020, issue of The Gaylord Hub. I worked there as a newspaper reporter. Mike Max went on to become the sports director and anchor at WCCO-TV. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Kids have been collecting forever. Maybe not Pokemon cards, but something. Rocks. Beanie Babies. Stickers. Back in the 1960s, I collected “Lost in Space” trading cards featuring the popular sci-fi TV show. I have a few of them tucked away somewhere.

My 1959 Ted Williams baseball trading card, #80. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)

My brothers, though, collected baseball trading cards, which were once packaged with bubblegum. They valued the cards more than the gum. I have a baseball card, too. A 1959 Ted Williams, card #80 of 80. He was a left fielder for the Boston Red Sox and 1966 Baseball Hall of Fame inductee. I checked its value with a top end price of $89. But with creased corners, my Williams card is nowhere near that valuable.

(Promo courtesy of The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour)

Some cards are, though. And if you’re a collector, you know. This weekend, there’s an opportunity to source sports cards and memorabilia locally at the 2nd annual Sports Card Show from 9 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturday, April 12, at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour, 515 Second Ave. N.W., Faribault. The towering historic Cathedral is easy to find near downtown and across from Central Park.

A Montgomery Mallard races toward home plate during a baseball game at Bell Field, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Vendors will be setting up shop for the public to browse, trade and/or buy sports collectibles and memorabilia, according to show organizers. That’s from vintage to modern and includes autographed collectibles. I expect there to be a good turnout at the event as interest in sports and in sports merchandise remains as high as ever.

Ball and glove. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

How well I remember my older brother, Doug, listening to Minnesota Twins games on his transistor radio back in the sixties. How well I remember playing softball in the farmyard on summer evenings after the chores were done, used disc blades serving as bases. Doug always insisted on being Harmon Killebrew or Tony Oliva. There was no arguing with him. How well I remember the play-by-play action my brothers gave of our games. How well I remember the mini wooden souvenir baseball bat that lay atop Doug’s dresser. There was no touching that collectible.

Brackets posted at Bell Field, when Faribault hosted the state amateur baseball tournament in 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

All these decades later, I have minimal interest in baseball (except when my husband’s hometown ball team, the Buckman Billygoats, played in the state amateur baseball tournament). Many people, though, enjoy America’s favorite past-time and all that comes with it—like card collecting. Now, if you had a “Lost in Space” trading card, I’d be interested.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A whole lot of Irish in St. Patrick March 13, 2024

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Appropriate signage for a tavern in St. Patrick, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)

BEER, BASEBALL AND BLESSINGS. Those words define St. Patrick, an unincorporated place of bar, baseball field and Catholic church northeast of New Prague. With the approach of St. Patrick’s Day, now seems a fitting time to revisit this southern Minnesota burg, which I photographed in the summer of 2015.

St. Patrick Church of Cedar Lake Township. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)

I never stepped inside St. Patrick’s Tavern or onto Bonin Field, home of the St. Patrick Irish, on that summer day. Rather, I walked around St. Patrick Church of Cedar Lake Township and its adjoining cemetery. Church doors were locked.

St. Patrick’s church and cemetery.
St. Patrick’s Bonin Field, named after Father Leon Bonin, who brought baseball back to St. Patrick in the 1950s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)
Across the road from the St. Patrick cemetery sits St. Patrick’s Tavern. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)

The stately church sits atop a hill, the ball field at the base on one side, the tavern on the other. Pray. Play. And then congregate over a beer and a burger basket at the tavern. Or, on St. Patrick’s Day weekend, corned beef and cabbage downed with on-tap green beer, while supplies last.

Born in Ireland, buried in the St. Patrick Church of Cedar Lake Township Cemetery in southern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)
Bonin Field, home of the St. Patrick Irish. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)
The bar and restaurant in St. Patrick. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)

Even with the minimal time I spent in St. Patrick, I experienced its Irish heritage. It’s reflected on tombstones, in the very names of the church, ball field and bar. It’s reflected on signage. But mostly, it’s this feeling of sacredness, as if the patron saint of the Irish dwells here. In the pews. On the bleachers. Even, I expect, inside the bar. St. Patrick was, after all, a missionary.

St. Patrick’s steeple rises in the background, behind this cemetery angel. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)

And then there’s the sacred art. Crucifixes. An angel statue. Tombstones that hold names and history.

The Holy Family tucks into a corner of the grotto. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)
The beautiful face of Mary at the St. Patrick’s grotto. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)
The loving hand of Mary rests upon her son, Jesus, in this sculpture at St. Patrick’s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)

Aside the church, a grotto welcomes with the most hauntingly beautiful sculptures.

St. Patrick may seem like nothing more than a country church, just another rural bar and a baseball diamond to passing motorists. But it’s much more, worth the stop for a close-up look at a place rooted in Irish heritage.

More signage on St. Patrick’s Tavern. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2015)

Next road trip back here, I’ll pop into the tavern, order a brew and maybe a burger, and raise my mug to the Irish who settled here, claimed this land as theirs. Here in St. Patrick, place of beer, baseball and blessings.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Goodbye, Faribo Frosty, & welcome, spring April 6, 2023

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Faribo Frosty’s smile has turned to a frown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2023)

FARIBO FROSTY ISN’T RUNNING away with promises to return next winter. Instead, he’s melting in place, his once broad smile replaced by a frown.

But Faribault’s ginormous snowman, crafted by the Andy Hoisington family, may be the only one saddened by the 50 and 60-degree temps forecast for southern Minnesota beginning on Friday. I’m smiling and I expect many others are, too. It’s been an incredibly snowy winter with our seasonal snowfall total in the top three for Minnesota. This has been a forever winter.

In late February, Faribo Frosty was still smiling and making so many people smile. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2023)

And even though it saddens me to see rotund, 17-foot tall Faribo Frosty slimming down and eventually melting into a puddle, I expect he really will be back. The Hoisingtons have built and maintained an over-sized snowman for 18 years, their gift to the community and a reason to smile.

Snow and blowing snow defined areas of Minnesota earlier this week. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2020 used for illustration only)

I am smiling wide these days as the snow pack dwindles, revealing dormant grass. Everywhere I look, lawns are visible. Yes, snow still covers shaded areas and snow piles remain. But mostly, it’s beginning to look like spring here, which if you go by the calendar, it is. Tell that to the good Minnesotans who found themselves in yet another blizzard earlier this week.

Along the foundation on the south side of my house, tulips poked through decaying leaves even as snow fell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2019)

Here in southern Minnesota, rain, rather than snow, fell. Temps, though, stubbornly continue in the 30s with a raw wind. So winter coats are still the dress code of the day.

These tulips, a gift from blogger friend Paula (a native Minnesotan) in the Netherlands, popped color into my life in 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2020)

But winter is loosening its hold under pressure from the sun. Tulips and other spring perennials are popping through the soil in my yard. A few more weeks and they will blaze bold hues. And if I rooted around, I expect I would find crocuses emerging under a layer of leaf mulch.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

Another sure sign of spring are spring openers for the Minnesota Twins and the St. Paul Saints. The major and minor league baseball teams rescheduled their openers this week because of weather. No one really wants to sit in a stadium and watch baseball in 30-degree temps coupled with strong winds. But by the time the ball hits the glove late this afternoon (Saints) and on Friday (Twins), conditions should be comfortable, if not balmy by early April in Minnesota standards.

Crocuses emerge from leaf mulch. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)

So, yes, I think we’ve turned the corner. Faribo Frosty will need to accept that and graciously exit while promising to return again some day…long after the crocuses are done blooming.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A tale from Buckman, not of Billygoats but of a ballpark August 24, 2022

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Outside Bell Field in Faribault, two oversized baseballs flank the ballpark entry. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

AH, SUMMER IN MINNESOTA. It is, unequivocally, a season packed with outdoor activities. Like baseball. I’m not a fan. But many are.

Beautiful and historic Bell Field in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

A banner welcomes baseball fans. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

A section of the stands at Bell Field. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

My community of Faribault, along with neighboring Dundas and Miesville, is currently hosting the Minnesota Baseball Association State Amateur Tournament in Classes B and C. That means lots of teams and fans are in town on the weekend to watch baseball at Faribault’s Bell Field.

Brackets posted at Bell Field. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

My husband, Randy, was among the spectators Saturday evening when his hometown team, the Buckman Billygoats, faced the Cannon Falls Bears. In the end, the Billygoats defeated the Bears 7-1. They will be back at Bell Field at 4:30 p.m. Saturday to play the Luverne Redbirds.

Downtown Buckman, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2020)

Even though 48 years have passed since Randy left the family farm southeast of Buckman, he remains forever rooted to this small town in Morrison County in central Minnesota. He is connected to the baseball field there, just south of St. Michael’s Catholic Church. Not because he played ball. No, not that. There’s a story, though…

The playing field at Bell Field. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

In the summer of 1972, Randy joined a team of teenagers in painting a new outfield fence. When I write fence, I mean 4 x 8-foot plywood panels pieced together. The six teens went through lots of barn red paint, purchased in 5-gallon buckets.

Businesses advertise at Bell Field. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

Local businesses could pay to advertise. Randy and his co-workers, employed through a summer community action program for low income families, stenciled, then painted the business names onto the fence panels. Cindy and Marge traced the stencils, then they all (including Randy’s older sister Vivian) brushed the letters in with white paint.

Rules posted in a Bell Field dug-out. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

But as Randy tells the story, the owner of the local grocery store deviated from the plan and decided to craft his own bold advertisement. He removed the two centerfield panels, painted them green and stenciled his business name thereon. And, remembers Randy, those fence sections stuck out like… Exactly as intended.

Bell Field has its own version of Bottle Cap Stadium in its BEER CAVE. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

Randy holds other memories from that summer of working at the ballpark in Buckman. He remembers a homemade sign labeling the field as Bottle Cap Stadium. Somebody (he has his suspicions) picked up beer and bottle caps from the grounds, formed the identifying words from the caps and then nailed them onto plywood.

Bell Field is home to The Lakers, who just missed making this year’s tournament. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

He also recalls a sign tagging the ball field as “The Home of the Buckman Saints.” Whether the ball team was ever called the Saints is uncertain. But it makes sense given St. Michael’s Catholic Church and School just to the north.

On rainy days when the team of teens couldn’t work at the ballpark, they painted classrooms. Randy recalls the day he and the rest prepared to paint Mrs. Weber’s classroom. Rose Weber, mother of Minnesota author and forensic psychologist Frank Weber, was Randy’s fifth grade teacher and is likely related to current Billygoats player Aaron Weber. She chose pink and blue for her classroom. “Who picked these colors?” Reuben at the hardware store asked. Mrs. Weber was later called in to assess a section of newly-painted wall in her chosen color combo.

“She looked at it, didn’t like it and picked green and yellow, John Deere green and yellow,” Randy said. I can only imagine how those farm kids viewed the tractor colors chosen for the fifth grade classroom.

A baseball lodged in overhead netting at Bell Field. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

Circling back to the beginning…, if not for Randy’s attendance at the Buckman Billygoats’ baseball game last Saturday evening in Faribault, I never would have heard these stories from the Summer of 1972. Nor would I have learned this about my husband of 40 years: “You wonder why I don’t like to paint,” he said. “I was sick of painting that summer.”

Point taken.

More stories will be written at the state tournaments. Here’s hoping the Buckman Billygoats win on Saturday. If anyone knows where Randy can get a Billygoats t-shirt, please comment. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)

But, my sister-in-law Vivian noted, “We sure had a lot of fun!” Some Buckman ballpark-related stories shall remain unwritten…

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

February at the ballpark & I’m not talking spring training in Florida February 23, 2018

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ON A FEBRUARY AFTERNOON, sunshine heats the earth, slants shadows upon snow fallen fresh that morning. It is a rare day of respite from a too-cold winter in Minnesota and I am anxious to get outside.

 

 

So Randy and I hop in the Chevy and head toward Dundas, just south of Northfield. I want to walk in Memorial Park, home of the Dundas Dukes. Randy pulls the car into the riverside park, loops and stops on a snowy road next to a trail. We exit, tread with caution along a path, diverting off the icy route as needed to avoid slipping.

 

 

Passing the abandoned playground, I observe swings hung statue-still.

 

 

I note footprints through the snow leading to a Little Free Library. Used even in winter.

 

 

A short hike away, I step onto the foot bridge spanning the Cannon River.

 

 

I pause midway, focus on ruins of the Archibald Mill,

 

 

bridge shadows,

 

 

an open spot of water,

 

 

the river ribboning white between shoreline trees.

 

 

In the simplicity of this place, these scenes, I feel content. I am here with Randy, who appreciates the natural silence as much as me.

 

 

 

Overhead I watch a Delta airliner angling down toward the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. I wonder about those aboard. Would they rather be leaving than arriving?

 

 

Some 1,700 miles away in the warmth of Ft. Myers, the Minnesota Twins toss and catch balls, swing bats and practice in the sunshine of opening week of spring training. Here in Dundas, opening day is still months away. I imagine the bold orange seats and grandstands filled with spectators, the cracks of bats, the swish of baseballs when the Dukes meet the Hampton Cardinals here on April 29. I can almost hear the conversations and laughter that will soon fill this place.

 

 

I head back toward the car, tracking in the footsteps of those who, like me, dream. Of sunny summer days. Of baseball. Of walks in the park. And of rivers that run free of ice, free of snow, free of winter under a Minnesota sky.

© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A fitting quote as we heal from the baseball field shootings June 15, 2017

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This plaque marks a baseball player sculpture at Memorial Park in Dundas, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2014.

 

THREE YEARS AGO I photographed a plaque at Memorial Park Baseball Field in Dundas. It marks a woodcarving of a Dundas Dukes baseball player.

 

Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2016.

 

Today, the day after the shooting of House Republican leader Steve Scalise, four others and a gunman on a baseball field near our nation’s capitol, these words by John Thorn seem especially fitting. Thorn is the official historian for major league baseball.

 

My great niece Kiera painted this stone, which sits on my office desk as a constant reminder to hold onto hope. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

Now, more than ever, as attacks and tragedies like this continue in the U.S. and throughout the world, we need our spirits replenished, our hope restored, our losses repaired, our journeys blessed.

 

Batter up for the Faribault Lakers. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2016.

 

We must continue to play ball. Violence can change us. But it cannot steal away the freedom we hold dear.

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

 

Blessings, beer & baseball in St. Patrick January 18, 2017

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EDITOR’S NOTE: The following is a story from summer-time, season inappropriate. But, in the throes of a Minnesota winter, we need reminders that summer will return. In something like four months.

Across the road from the St. Patrick of Cedar Lake Township Catholic Church cemetery sits St. Patrick's Tavern.

Across the road from the St. Patrick of Cedar Lake Township Catholic Church and cemetery sits St. Patrick’s Tavern.

A BAR AND A CHURCH. It’s not an uncommon pairing in parts of rural Minnesota, in Catholic faith communities especially.

The bar recently changed ownership and became St. Patrick's Tavern.

The bar recently changed ownership and became St. Patrick’s Tavern.

Blessings and beer.

St. Patrick Catholic Church of Cedar Lake Township.

St. Patrick Catholic Church of Cedar Lake Township.

On a Sunday afternoon drive in the summer of 2015, my husband and I happened upon St. Patrick, an unincorporated burg in Scott County. There, upon a hill, sits St. Patrick Catholic Church of Cedar Lake Township. Out the front door and down the hill rests the bar, appropriately named St. Patrick’s Tavern. And on the back side of the hill lies the baseball field, St. Patrick’s Bonin Field. It’s named after Father Leon Bonin, a strong supporter of baseball in St. Patrick.

St. Patrick's Bonin Field

St. Patrick’s Bonin Field

Blessings, beer and baseball. How decidedly rural Minnesotan.

BONUS PHOTOS:

St. Patrick's Tavern in St. Patrick, Minnesota

St. Patrick’s Tavern is located at 24436 Old Highway 13 Blvd. in St. Patrick, Minnesota.

Cruising past St. Patrick's Tavern on a Sunday afternoon.

Cruising past St. Patrick’s Tavern on a Sunday afternoon.

More signage on St. Patrick's Tavern.

More signage on St. Patrick’s Tavern.

TELL ME: Do you know of any similar hamlets that offer blessings, beer and baseball. I’d like to hear your stories.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When a non-sports fan (me) takes in a Faribault Lakers baseball game August 2, 2016

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Bell Field in North Alexander Park, Faribault, Minnesota.

Bell Field in North Alexander Park, Faribault, Minnesota.

God is great, beer is good and people are crazy.

On Sunday afternoon at Bell Field in Faribault, the faithful—some drinking beer, some not—gathered to watch the Faribault Lakers take on the Montgomery Mallards as the preacher pitched and music blared mostly catchy country lyrics. Like Billy Currington’s tune about God and beer.

Fencing and netting obscure the field. But I was thankful for both to keep us safe.

Fencing and netting obscured my view of the field. But I was thankful for both to keep me safe.

I sat in the stands, taking it all in, more interested in people watching and the setting than the game. I’ve never pretended to be a fan of any sports. But I’ve wanted to attend a local Minnesota Baseball Association game this summer simply for the experience.

Father and son bond at the ball game.

Father and son bond at the ball game.

So when my nephew phoned and invited my husband to join him at the ballpark along with his 3-year-old son, I tagged along.

The roofed grandstand keeps fans cool.

The roofed grandstand keeps fans cool.

Admittedly, the high heat and humidity concerned me. To my relief, the roofed stadium provided shade and the wind breezed like a fan on low speed.

Matt Lane in pitching mode for the Faribault Lakers.

Matt Lane in pitching mode for the Faribault Lakers.

A later shot of Lane also pitching.

A later shot of Lane also pitching with focus and determination.

Lane's pitch speeds toward the batter.

Lane’s pitch speeds toward the batter.

Sharing a can of icy beer with Randy, I turned my attention to the field where the Rev. Matt Lane stood at the pitcher’s mound, focused and ready to crank up a pitch.

A number one supporter of the Lakers' pitcher.

A number one supporter of the Lakers’ pitcher, the reverend’s little girl.

To my left, his family and friends clustered, Lane’s preschool daughter in a blue shirt imprinted with her daddy’s surname. Lane, associate pastor at Peace Lutheran Church in Faribault, played college baseball and three years in the minor league.

A Montgomery Mallard races toward home plate...

A Montgomery Mallard races toward home…

...then slides into home plate.

…then slides into home plate.

I tried to follow the game. But I had a difficult time tracking the fast-moving baseball and anticipating the action. I’ll never be a sports photographer. I get too distracted by nuances like the violent throw of the bat by a batter who’s just struck out or by concern about the runner lying on the field, his pride, not his body, injured.

On either side of the announcer's box, I saw barn swallows swoop under the roof.

On either side of the announcer’s box, I saw barn swallows swoop under the roof.

Other details also garnered my attention such as sparrows nibbling dropped popcorn, teenage girls licking red suckers, barn swallows swooping under the roofline, the thunk of a pop-up ball slamming the metal roof, a boy roaring a toy car across bleacher seats, Elton John belting Crocodile Rock (one of my favorite 70s songs) over the ballpark loudspeaker, kids wrangling behind the Mallards’ dug-out for a foul ball knowing they’ll get a free Freezee pop for returning the ball…

My 3-year-old great nephew watched the game for awhile.

My great nephew watched the game for awhile and then got distracted by whatever distracts a 3-year-old.

Just in case a ball came our direction...and a ball to play with.

Just in case a ball came our direction…and a ball to play with.

The score wasn't looking too good as the game moved in to the final innings.

The score wasn’t looking too good as the game moved in to the final innings.

I was distracted, too, by my adorable great nephew dwarfed in his Minnesota Twins shirt and red Elk River baseball cap. Landon soon joined the Lane kid crew in tossing and chasing a ball, enough busyness—along with munching popcorn and sharing Skittles—to keep him content to the bottom of the seventh inning. By then, the Lakers trailed far behind the Mallards, eventually losing 10 -2 in a regional play-off game.

Heading back to our vehicle in the parking lot, I stopped to photograph this pick-up from an area dairy farm.

Heading back to our vehicle in the parking lot, I stopped to photograph this pick-up from an area dairy farm.

As the eighth inning began, some fans left and we soon joined them. Will I attend a local baseball game again? Maybe. But next time I’d like to check out the Dundas Dukes.

BONUS PHOTOS:

Batter up for the Faribault Lakers.

Batter up for the Faribault Lakers.

And the batter swings.

And the batter swings.

The Montgomery Mallards dug-out.

The Montgomery Mallards dug-out.

My great nephew watched the game for awhile.

My great nephew watched the game for awhile.

I had no clue what any of the ump's hand signals meant.

I had no clue what any of the ump’s hand signals meant.

I always appreciate an iconic scene of fans in the stands.

I always appreciate an iconic scene of fans in the stands.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My Minnesota childhood memories of Harmon Killebrew May 18, 2011

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“BATTER UP!”

His voice cracked like the whack of wood against leather as I stepped up to the plate, bat handle vise-gripped in my hands, feet planted in packed gravel next to the rusted, cast-off disk from the disk harrow.

As my oldest brother lobbed the ball toward me, I swung, and as was typical of me, missed. I was aiming to hit the ball toward the barn and milkhouse at the edge of the farm yard, our ball field.

Almost every evening, as the sun inched lower in the prairie sky toward the greening fields of early spring and then into the hot, humid days of tasseling corn, my siblings and I traded chore gloves for softball gloves. “Let’s play ball,” we’d yell in unison.

And then the arguing would begin. “I’m Harmon Killebrew,” my oldest brother hollered, the name flying off his tongue with the speed of a fast pitch.

No matter how loudly the rest of us protested his call, we struck out. He was the eldest. If he wanted to be Killebrew, then he would be Killebrew.

We assumed the roles of other 1960s Twins greats like Tony Oliva and Rod Carew.

But we all wanted to emulate Killebrew, to swing the bat, to watch the ball powerhouse toward the barn roof, maybe even sail as far as the silo room or the cow yard beyond, well out of reach of our siblings’ outstretched hands.

Such are my memories of the Twins’ home run slugger.

I’ve never been to a Twins game, never met Killebrew, don’t watch or listen to baseball.

Yet, upon learning of Killebrew’s death, a twinge of melancholy swept across me as I thought of those pick-up farm yard softball games, the baseball cards my brothers collected and the static of my eldest brother’s transistor radio broadcasting a Twins game in the 1960s.

For all the sibling bickering over who would pretend to be Killebrew or Carew or Oliva, those post chores games score among the home runs of my rural Minnesota childhood.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hit one out of the cornfield for the Minnesota Twins October 8, 2010

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Montgomery Orchard celebrates the Minnesota Twins' 50th anniversary with a Twins logo corn maze.

 

HEY, ALL YOU APPLE-LOVING Minnesota Twins fans, if you want to test your Twins knowledge and your navigation skills, head to Minnesota’s version of The Field of Dreams at Montgomery Orchard, like I did last weekend.

Just a note here, before I tell you more about this opportunity. Please do not mistake the previous apple reference for any endorsement of The Big Apple-based New York Yankees.

Montgomery, Minnesota, orchard owners Scott and Barb Wardell clearly love the home team as they’ve created a six-acre corn maze in the shape of the Twins emblem. But that’s not all. They’ve developed a trivia game that challenges maze visitors to answer questions about the Twins at home plate; first, second and third bases; the pitcher’s mound; short stop; and right, center and left fields, depending on the selected maze route.

Since I don’t exactly like mazes, having once survived a terrifying mirror maze at Arnolds Park in Lake Okoboji, Iowa, during my teen years, I opted for the short Be-A-Mazed half-hour route. Fortunately, my husband agreed to lead me through the cornfield because I possess minimal map reading skills or sense of direction or knowledge of The Twins.

 

My husband leads the way through the short corn maze route. If you get lost and think you can just follow the corn rows to get out, forget it. The corn is not planted in straight-shot rows.

 

But my 24-year-old daughter and three of her friends, who had driven down from Minneapolis for the afternoon and who are the ultimate Twins fans, along with my teenaged son, opted for the longer maze with far more winding trails and far more trivia questions. At least one of the four women had brushed up on Twins trivia. I wondered, though, why none of these Twins fanatics were wearing Twins attire.

 

My oldest daughter, left, and three of her friends drove down from Minneapolis to navigate the maze, pick apples and rave about the homemade hot dogs from Edel's Meat Market, an on-site vendor.

 

Who am I to talk, though? I probably should not admit this. But since I am an honest person, I will reveal that, except for the World Series games in 1987, I have never watched an entire professional baseball game on television or ever attended one. I am the rare individual who really does not care about sports. I had come to the orchard corn maze simply because I wanted to see my daughter.

While I was there, I decided to exert some effort toward answering the Twins trivia questions. The problem, however, is that nearly everything I know about baseball history is limited to names—Harmon Killebrew, Tony Olivia and Rod Carew. I learned about those players decades ago from my eldest brother who listened to the Twins games on his transistor radio and who insisted on being Harmon Killebrew whenever we played farmyard softball.

I figured that long-ago role-playing and sportscasting would be helpful in the maze trivia contest. Plus I do know a bit of current trivia: Joe Mauer plays for the Twins. Yup, I figured “Mauer” might be the answer to at least one question.

But, after reading the first set of questions at home plate, I realized I’d never win this game.

Here’s the first rookie question I faced at home plate: Which of the following Twins legends are not in the Baseball Hall of Fame?  a. Harmon Killebrew  b. Tony Olivia  c. Rod Carew  d. Kirby Puckett

I had no clue. None. Nada. Strike one.

So, I moved on to the All-Star question: What American League catcher holds the record for the most All-Star selections?

I suspect if I knew the definition of “All-Star” that would help considerably. Strike two.

Heck, I may as well go for the Hall of Fame question: Name three Minnesotans that grew up to catch for the Twins.

Uh, yeah, so like I have no idea what positions Harmon or Tony or Rod played. Not even Joe, although I think he’s a catcher but I would need to verify that.  Sorry, Joe. Strike three. I’m out!

After that I decided to forgo the trivia and concentrate on getting through, and more importantly out of, the corn maze. As my husband and I wound our way along the rock-hard dirt path that twisted through the towering dried corn, I repeatedly asked if he knew where we were going. He said he did and I trusted that he did, although a few times I wished aloud for bread crumbs to drop along the path.

Or perhaps leaving a trail of peanuts and Cracker Jacks would have been more appropriate.

 

The Twins trivia questions are posted at baseball positions in the corn maze.

 

 

My husband climbs to a platform in the midst of the cornfield.

 

 

From the elevated platform, you get a bird's eye view of the corn maze and the countryside. Montgomery Orchard is donating $1 of each maze admission to the Twins Community Fund.

 

 

After completing the maze, head to the orchard to pick apples.

 

 

Or you can head to the store for pre-picked apples, local honey, jams, jellies, Cortland caramel apples and more. Peruse the wagon full of pumpkins from a neighboring farm on your way there.

 

 

You can choose from bags of apples lined up on the store porch. The orchard grows 13 apple varieties.

 

 

Musicians entertain inside and outside the store, depending on the weather.

 

 

Down in the pole shed, visitors can help make apple cider during a 2:30 p.m. daily demonstration.

 

FYI: Be-A-Amazed corn maze is located at Montgomery Orchard about an hour south of the Twin Cities and just south of Montgomery one mile east of the intersection of state highways 99 and 13 along highway 99. Regular orchard hours are from 1 – 6 p.m. Friday and from 10 a.m. – 6 p.m. Saturday and Sundays. (Check the Web site for Be-A-Mazed-At-Night dates.)  Last corn maze admission is taken at 4:30 p.m. and reservations are recommended for large groups. Cost is $6.75 for ages 11 through adult; $5.50 for ages 4 – 10; and free for those under four.

In addition to the maze, apple picking, cider making and entertainment, Montgomery Orchard offers a 1 1/4-mile nature hike through the prairie. A free adopt-a-tree program is also available for youth.

Click here for info about Edel’s Meat Market, which serves those delicious (according to the Minneapolis residents) hot dogs and homemade brats.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling