Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Celebrating my birthday with history & art September 27, 2024

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

NOT EVERYONE WOULD CELEBRATE a birthday by exploring historic ruins and then capping the day by creating art within an historic context. But then I am not everyone.

This week, on my closing-in-on-seventy birthday, I took a day trip to Wasioja and neighboring Mantorville. Randy and I packed our picnic lunches and then hit the road east in late morning. No need to rush and get going too early at our ages.

After a brief stop at a Kenyon thrift shop, which smelled strongly of natural gas, we made a quick exit. But not before warning the shopkeeper that he needed to check on the odor immediately. And don’t turn on a light switch, although the lights were already on, we advised. (The shop was still standing on our return route home.)

Blueberry pie. not from County Seat Coffee Shop. I didn’t photograph that pie piece. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

GOING BACK IN TIME

I digress. In Wasioja, we discovered aged ruins and historic buildings, many connected to Minnesota’s involvement in the Civil War. I was aware of the Civil War recruiting station, but not some of the other sites. I’ll write more on our visits to Wasioja and Mantorville in future posts.

However, I should note now that Randy and I enjoyed slices of homemade blueberry and strawberry/rhubarb pie at County Seat Coffeehouse in Mantorville. It was, after all, my birthday. No sweet treat awaited me at home.

Back home by late afternoon with me feeling a bit tired after being on my feet all day (remember that broken right toe, which makes walking a tad more challenging), I put my feet up. Randy napped.

A promo for a 2022 talk by Mica Anders at the RCHS. (Promo credit of RCHS)

STEPPING BACK IN TIME WITH MICA ANDERS

And then, less than two hours later, we were off to the Rice County Historical Society for an interactive historical presentation by St. Paul genealogist and artist Mica Lee Anders. She was presenting on early (1850-1900) African American residents of Rice County. I’m always up to learning more about the history of this place I’ve called home for 42 years.

Anders made the entire event hands-on engaging by asking attendees to create flower mosaics that will honor the legacies of early African Americans. The flowers will be installed as public art at gravesites in Faribault and Northfield.

Not being especially artistic beyond creating with a camera and with words, I felt initially tentative about the whole idea. But Anders quickly put me at ease, explaining how to go about the process of creating mosaic flowers from glass tiles. We grabbed cupcake tins then scooped tiles in assorted shapes (mostly round) and colors (blues, greens, oranges and yellows) into individual holders. From there, we designed within a donut shape printed on paper. Later, we would transfer our designs onto sticky mesh.

As a perfectionist, I sorted my tiles by size and color before beginning to create. Part of me wanted to pause and take notes on everything Anders was sharing. But art won over being a journalist for the evening. I created. I listened. I asked questions. But I didn’t jot down a single word.

I heard about the success of those early African Americans who lived here. The barber. The young man who would become a doctor. The college grad. But I learned, too, of efforts to hide racial identity. Yet, races intermarried. And, said, Anders, Faribault was a welcoming place to those African Americans who settled here early on. To hear that pleased me greatly. Faribault has not always been a welcoming place for people of color.

The flower mosaic I created. Anders will finish the work. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

CONNECTING HISTORY & ART

Anders’ passion for history, genealogy and honoring the legacies of African Americans in southeastern Minnesota via her research and now her public art project coursed through the meeting room where a small group of us created colorful mosaics. It felt good to be part of something like this, a tangible way to honor those who came before us, who likely faced more struggles than I will ever know.

My mosaic was well thought out. I don’t usually randomly do anything. I used orange and yellow tiles in the outer two rings of my flower to represent the sun. The next ring featured blue round tiles representing the sky—dark blue for stormy days, lighter shiny blue for happier days. I finished my flower with an inner ring of green tiles representing the earth, growth, place.

The birthday cards I received, displayed on a vintage family dresser in my dining room. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

THANKFUL

Thus I began another year of life. Learning. Creating art. Honoring. Celebrating. And feeling incredibly thankful for all the people who care about me. From greeting cards to an audio message, from texts to emails to calls (including a singing of “happy birthday”), I feel cherished and loved.

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FYI: Mica Anders will host more workshops in Rice County (including in Northfield) to talk about early African Americans in southeastern Minnesota and to create flower mosaics. I encourage you to participate. Her project was made possible in part by Springboard for the Arts’ Rural-Urban Solidarity Initiative.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Smokey the Bear still igniting fire prevention in Minnesota & beyond September 25, 2024

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Smokey the Bear is incorporated into interpretive signage at Paul M. Thiede Fire Tower Park by Pequot Lakes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2021)

FOR 80 YEARS, Smokey the Bear has delivered the same core message of fire prevention. In 2001, the US Forest Service updated Smokey’s long-running “Remember, only you can prevent forest fires” to “Only you can prevent wildfires.” But YOU has always centered Smokey’s directive to all of us. We, yes, we, hold a responsibility to prevent wildfires.

This interpretative sign at the fire tower park reminds visitors of who causes fires and their responsibility to prevent them. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2021)

That’s important to remember as Smokey celebrates his 80th year of igniting fire prevention efforts on a national scale. He officially turned 80 on August 9, marking the longest running public service campaign in the country. Who doesn’t like, and recognize, Smokey the Bear? And remember his message to us about fire.

Smokey, before he morphed into an anti-fire campaign spokes-bear, was a real bear. A cub injured and orphaned in a 1950 New Mexico wildfire. That’s the story anyway.

I admit I didn’t think all that much about wildfires until recent years, when smoke-hazed skies began occasionally blanketing Minnesota. Even here in southern Minnesota, the smoke from Canadian and western wildfires sometimes affects air quality. When I hear and see media reports about wildfires out West, I wonder how people manage to breathe, how they cope with the ongoing threat of fire, the death and destruction.

The Paul M. Thiede Fire Tower stretches high among the pines. It is no longer used to spot fires. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2021)

We’re not immune here in Minnesota, with most wildfires centered in the northern forested regions of our state. But occasionally, the Twin Cities metro and other areas experience out-of-control fires. Early this past March, for example, firefighters battled a massive blaze near Waseca (25 miles southwest of Faribault) that destroyed nearly 2,000 acres and injured three. Smokey’s cautionary words need to be heeded by all of us no matter where we live.

Visitors can climb the 100-foot high Paul M. Thiede Fire Tower and other fire towers in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2021)

I am most cognizant of fire, though, when staying at a family member’s cabin in the Brainerd Lakes area. Dense pine forests, scrub grass, dried pine needles and more seem sufficient fuel for a wildfire. There are no campfires on windy days. Not for Randy and me.

This sign is posted along Crow Wing County Highway 3 south of Crosslake in Mission Township. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Then there’s Smokey, or at least a Smokey the Bear sign along Crow Wing County Road 3 south of the cabin by the Mission Township Hall and Fire Station 1. The sign ranks the daily fire danger and also advises that burning permits are required in the area.

Inside this gift bag are tiny plastic bears for the taking in honor of Smokey’s 80th birthday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

During a recent visit, I noticed more. Smokey held a HAPPY BIRTHDAY gift bag with an attached note to “Help yourself to a tiny bear!” I reached inside the bag and pulled out a tiny blue plastic bear and a tiny green bear for my grandchildren. Later, I schooled them about Smokey the Bear and wildfires. They loved the mini bears.

Birthday wishes for Smokey. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

A hand-printed “Happy 80th Smokey” paper sign also hangs below Smokey’s feet, partially covering PREVENT WILDFIRES. Smokey is celebrating his birthday throughout 2024. He’ll be in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, at the lighting of the US Capital Christmas Tree…

A vendor grabs lunch and settles in next to a bear mount he’s selling at a barn sale in rural Medford several years ago. Live bears were seen near Medford, south of Faribault, this past summer. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Like the injured cub of the 1950 New Mexico wildfire, bears roam the woods of central and northern Minnesota and sometimes venture south. A bear was spotted at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault and farther south this past summer.

Scat identified as from a bear cub. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Before leaving the cabin recently, Randy found berry-laced scat along the driveway that looked suspiciously like bear poop. I sent a photo to my brother-in-law. Jon confirmed this was scat from a cub. A mama bear and three cubs were sighted at the cabin in June, certainly not the first bear sightings in the Crosslake area. I wasn’t surprised by Randy’s discovery, although unsettled. I like the imaginary 80-year-old Smokey the Bear. But if I encountered a real Smokey, I doubt I would pause to wish him a HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Nope, I’d pretty much be outta there.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A letter to my granddaughter on her birthday April 4, 2024

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Izzy’s birthday cake with fruit spread between layers and topped with fresh fruit (her choice of cake) was delicious. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)

My dearest Isabelle,

As you turn eight, I want you to know how very much I love you. I love you beyond words. And that says a lot given I’m a wordsmith.

You have brought me such joy. To feel your hugs, to scamper up the stairs to your bedroom to see your latest treasures, to listen to you excitedly talk about the latest Magic Tree House (or other) book you’re reading, to watch a video of you as a roaring lion during a school play, all are cherished moments.

My granddaughter, Isabelle, photographed when she was about 17 hours old. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2016)

From the day you were born, I learned a new definition of love: granddaughter.

I love being your grandma. I love when you ask me to sit next to you at family gatherings, as you did at your recent birthday party dinner. I loved sitting next to you while playing BINGO at your brother’s preschool family BINGO night, even if you whined a bit because you weren’t winning. And you really really really wanted a prize.

One of my favorite photos: Grandpa and grandchildren follow the pine-edged driveway at the lake cabin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2020)

I especially enjoy our time together each summer Up North at a family lake cabin. Taking nature walks. Sitting on the dock, feet dipping and kicking in the water. Eating ice cream at a shop in town. We are making memories that I hope will last you a life-time. Simple memories that center on family togetherness. On love.

Photographed at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

In your short life, you have traveled farther than I have in my sixty-seven years. Your world is wider, bigger, broader. You live in a diverse neighborhood. Your best friends are boys. You are learning Spanish already as a second grader. I am grateful for all of these. Your world is open wide. And you embrace it.

For a while, Izzy was into PJ Masks. I remembered this character, Owlette. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

You swim. I can’t. You roller skate. I did. You try to teach me the characters in the latest whatever interests you. I fail to remember the Paw Patrol pups and now Pokemon characters. I’m doing better at dinosaurs. But mostly it’s too much for Grandma to keep straight. Too much.

One of my favorite art pieces created by Izzy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2023)

But it doesn’t matter, Izzy. What matters is that I love you and you me. You are my daughter’s daughter. Her first-born as she was mine. The April day you were born eight years ago opened my heart to a new kind of love. Deep and full and beautiful beyond words.

Happy eighth birthday, my darling Isabelle!

With love,

Grandma

Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The unwanted birthday gift has its day March 6, 2024

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An amaryllis begins to bloom. (Photo credit: Amber Schmidt)

THE BOXED BULBS on an end cap at a big box store caught my eye, as intended. I worked briefly as a grocery store clerk back in the day when cashiers read and punched prices onto cash register keys. I learned then all about moving products by strategically placing them on the end of a shelf row.

So here I was, falling for the age-old marketing gimmick of pushing impulse purchases. But on this day, I was thankful for that end cap display of boxed amaryllis bulbs. This would make the perfect birthday gift for my soon-to-be 5-year-old grandson. Or so I thought.

On Isaac’s birthday in early January, we gathered to celebrate. As Isaac opened his gift stash, it was obvious he liked some presents more than others. That’s the thing about kids his age. They can’t hide their honest reaction, their true feelings. He loved the LEGO sets, the sticker book, the… But when he pulled the boxed bulb from the gift bag, Isaac promptly tossed it aside. Not set the box on the carpet, but threw it. Not even an explanation from Grandma about planting the bulb which would flower in big, beautiful red blooms changed his mind. He didn’t care.

I should back up a minute and explain why I thought this would be a good gift for my grandson. Last spring I gave several packets of seeds to the grandkids. Spinach, carrot and flower seeds, which my eldest daughter planted with her son. He took an interest once the seeds sprouted and the plants grew. Amber called him “Farmer Isaac.”

The farm girl in me felt encouraged. My grandchildren, who live in a sprawling new housing development in the south metro, are far-removed from their rural heritage. It’s important to me that they understand their agrarian roots. Randy and I grew up on crop and dairy farms—farms with large gardens from whence came most of our food. Youth like Isaac and his sister, Isabelle, need to know that food originates on farms, not grocery store shelves. As preschoolers, they loved to dig in the dirt at our house. I would hand them shovels and the dirt would fly. Kids need to touch the earth, splash in mud puddles, gather sticks and pine cones and leaves and do all those activities that connect them to the land. And make their hands dirty.

Emerging amaryllis. (Edited photo; Photo credit: Amber Schmidt)

But now here was this dormant amaryllis bulb all ugly and brown and not looking at all like anything that would ever grow. But, once potted, grow it did. When the first green leaves emerged from the massive bulb at the end of January, Isaac suddenly took an interest. “You better take a picture to show Grandma,” he instructed his mom.

Isaac loves space, puzzles, art and now amaryllis. (Photo credit: Amber Schmidt)

A few weeks later, the first of several flowers bloomed. And there was Isaac again in a photo, right elbow learning on the kitchen island by sheets of paper for his next art project, left hand on his world atlas, jigsaw puzzles and that once dormant amaryllis bulb now blooming in the foreground. His smile was wide, his happiness evident. The amaryllis had its moment. Big. Bold. Beautiful red. No longer tossed aside. Finally and fully appreciated by the birthday boy.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When the birthday boy says the darndest things January 10, 2024

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A video features episodes of the TV series. (Image sourced online)

ANYONE WHO IS A GRANDPARENT will tell you it’s the best. That includes me, grandmother of two. Grandparents have all the fun of parenting minus the everyday challenges of raising children. We are also witness to much, sort of like observers of “Kids Say the Darndest Things.” Remember that original long ago TV series by Art Linkletter in which he interviewed kids and they answered quite honestly, hilariously?

Recently, my grandson celebrated his fifth birthday with a small party that included Randy and me (his other grandparents live in Arizona), his paternal aunt and uncle, and his older sister and parents. His other aunt and uncles live too far away.

Isaac starts opening gifts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted, edited photo January 2024)

As we gathered in the living room to watch Isaac open his gifts, I felt the love that enveloped this little boy. He was so excited as kids are wont to be about birthdays. But then if I had a pile of gifts at my feet and I was only five, I might get excited, too.

Tearing into the packages, Isaac didn’t hide his feelings. When he opened a space sticker book from Opa and Oma, he stopped and was about to start sticking stickers…until his mom politely reminded him that he should open his other gifts first. It was clear he loved the sticker book.

Last spring Isaac and his mom planted flower seeds including zinnias, like these grown by my friend Al. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2019 used for illustration only)

But he didn’t love the red amaryllis bulb I gave him to plant. In fact, Isaac tossed the box to the side while I hastily tried to explain to him what was inside. “I don’t like flowers!” he said, this the boy who last summer seeded flowers, tended flowers, delighted in every bloom and earned the name Farmer Isaac. Maybe my grandson will change his attitude when the amaryllis blooms in about two months.

He also tossed aside a pom pom animal craft kit. He loves doing arts and crafts and goes through so many colored magic markers that Crayola should have a rewards program for his parents.

Thankfully Isaac liked the thick pack of multi-colored construction paper and the 3-in-1 space shuttle LEGO set Randy and I gave him. Before we left the party, he’d already assembled the shuttle and told me I should give all of his Uncle Caleb’s LEGOs to him. Alright then. I would need to clear that with my son.

It was Caleb’s gift, though, that had all of us erupting in laughter. Not because it was anything unusual or humorous. Rather, it was simply cash in a card. Isaac ripped open the envelope, pulled out the substantial monetary gift and flew out of the room and upstairs to his bedroom, bills clutched tightly in his hand. No one was going to get his money.

Isaac’s colorful birthday cake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2024)

And then there was the bakery birthday cake, chocolate and frosted in bold hues, as vivid as any frosting I’ve ever seen. Isaac wanted blue frosting accented by a rainbow of colors to match the Numberblock theme of his party. “Numberblock” is an animated children’s series that teaches kids math skills via adventures. I’ve never seen it. My grandson, a math whiz, has and also has the toys spun off from the show. Ask him a math problem and he can likely solve it. I’m not talking simple addition and subtraction, but rather multiplication and other math problems well beyond his just-turned-five years. Did I mention that his dad is a math major and an actuary?

Back to that blue cake. The blue coloring of the frosting was much darker than Isaac’s mom expected. As we forked the heavily frosted cake into our mouths, our lips, tongues and teeth turned blue. The birthday boy never complained. But there was some quick wiping of teeth by adults and of the kitchen counter before the blue dye stained surfaces.

Hours after we left the party, my daughter texted with a message from Isaac. “I forgot to tell the birthday comers thank you,” he told his mom. Awwww. Melted this grandma’s heart, negating the tossed amaryllis “I don’t like flowers!” moment. Kids truly do say the darndest things.

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TELL ME: I’d like to hear a “kids say the darndest things” quote from you. Let’s laugh this morning.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Birthday blast off minus this astronaut January 11, 2023

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Isaac posing with his solar system birthday cake. Note the diagram in front of him, the design he and his mom created before making the actual cake. Besides space, Isaac loves art and math and geography and…he’s only four. (Photo credit: Amber, image edited)

EVEN UP UNTIL THE EVENING PRIOR, I held hope that I could join the mission. But it was not to be.

I missed my grandson Isaac’s space-themed fourth birthday party on Saturday because I was still sick with a nasty cold*. Oh, how I wanted to be there for the celebration. But I knew in my heart of hearts that I couldn’t in all good conscience expose anyone to this virus. So I hugged Randy goodbye, told him to have a good time and broke down crying.

Until that moment, I didn’t fully realize how much I had been anticipating this gathering of family to celebrate a little boy’s big day. Not any little boy. But my beloved grandson. To miss his party proved beyond disappointing.

I busied myself during party time by taking down Christmas decorations, reading, compiling a grocery list for Randy, basically doing whatever to distract myself from the celebration unfolding 35 minutes away.

Occasionally Randy and Isaac’s mom, our daughter Amber, would text a photo. The space-themed table décor. The space-themed gifts Isaac loved, including a fleece blanket from Eclectic Alliance in Faribault. And the space-themed birthday cake Amber created with the input of her son who is an expert in all things solar system. I’m not exaggerating.

Amber used this photo of her brother Caleb’s solar system birthday cake as a guide in creating Isaac’s cake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2001)

It was the cake, though, that meant the most to me, even if I wasn’t there to eat it. Earlier in the week Amber requested a photo of her brother Caleb’s long ago solar system birthday cake. The bakery where she typically buys her kids’ cakes was temporarily closed, thus she would need to make Isaac’s cake.

This photo shows a page in an altered book created for me by my friend Kathleen (following my mom’s death a year ago). This page is dedicated to the birthday cakes mom made. That’s me at age two with my clown cake. That’s my mom, late in life, to the left. And to the right is the vintage cake design book that inspired Mom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

I was thrilled. I grew up with my mom making all of my birthday cakes, the designs often chosen from a “Baker’s Coconut Animal Cut-Up Cake” booklet. I followed the tradition, crafting my three kids’ birthday cakes*. And now this was continuing into the third generation, albeit maybe for just one year. Time will tell.

Together, Amber and Isaac designed the solar system birthday cake—a round cake (the sun) ringed by cupcakes (the eight planets). Isaac had strong opinions about colors and lay-out. Uncle Caleb texted from Indiana that when he celebrated his seventh birthday with a solar system cake, there was one more planet. Pluto.

In the end, I got Mars, set aside especially for me per my request. Randy also brought home three slices of sun and left-over pizza. When I bit into Mars, I tasted the sweetness of the cake and the love that went into creating it. I may have missed the actual party, but my loving family texted messages (“The presents were a hit”) and photos during the party and then saved some cake for me. In the absence of presence, I was still included in the mission of a special little boy blasting off into another year of life. We have lift-off!

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

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*I tested negative for COVID twice. Symptoms differed from COVID, but I wanted to be certain. Note, if you’re sick, please stay home, because you will make someone else (like me) ill.

*My two daughters on several occasions made their younger brother’s birthday cakes when they were all still living at home. There’s an eight-year age gap between youngest and oldest.

 

Thinking of Mom on her birthday May 24, 2022

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My mom celebrates her 82nd birthday at Parkview Home in Belview, Minnesota, in May 2014. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2014)

THE FIRSTS ALWAYS prove the hardest. And today marks a first. Today would have been my mom’s 90th birthday, had she not died in January.

I miss her. Sometimes believing she is truly gone feels impossible. A lot of that has to do with COVID—of seeing so little of her during the pandemic and then attending her funeral in the absolute height of omicron. Like so many other families with elders in long-term care, with loved ones who passed during COVID, the loss is compounded. Closure seems elusive in the absence of community comfort.

But I don’t want to dwell on that. I want to focus instead on my mom, a woman of deep faith, humble, kind…and such a gift to me.

I think back on her birthday in May 2014, shortly after she moved into the long-term care center which became her home for the remainder of her life. Randy and I drove the 2.5 hours to visit her, bringing with us a homemade chocolate cake and several jugs of lemonade. A few extended family members joined us to celebrate.

I took a photo of Mom as she gazed upon that rectangular cake, nine candles blazing, sprinkles scattered atop the homemade chocolate frosting. She looks content, pleased. That I could bring her joy on her 82nd birthday still makes me smile.

On Monday I smiled, too, as Mom’s sister Rachel and her husband, my Uncle Bob, stopped to see me en route back to their Missouri home after a visit to Minnesota. As Rachel and I stood in the driveway wrapping our arms around each other in the tightest hug, I felt a moment of fleeting sorrow mixed with comfort. None of my mom’s siblings attended her funeral due to COVID concerns, health issues and/or distance. I was thankful for their decision, although I knew it had to be difficult for them not to say goodbye to their sister. As my godmother and I hugged upon her arrival, I felt Mom’s presence. There was an undeniable moment of shared grief.

Later, after I served lunch, I grabbed a bag of gingersnap cookies from the kitchen counter to pass around. Mom’s favorite. I’d baked a batch awhile ago and froze some. When Mom lived at Parkview, I made gingersnaps for her every Christmas.

Today, May 24, I think of gingersnaps and birthday cakes and multiple memories that remind me of the mom I loved, still love. And miss. Oh, to sing “Happy birthday!” one more time.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The happiest of birthdays for a 3-year-old (& his family) January 4, 2022

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A special order rainbow birthday cake from Sweet Kneads by Farmington Bakery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

OH, TO BE THREE AGAIN. To see the world through a preschooler’s eyes. To view the world with unbridled excitement. To find wonder and excitement…in a rainbow birthday cake.

This past Saturday, I watched as my grandson Isaac focused on his beautiful rainbow-themed birthday cake crafted by Sweet Kneads by Farmington Bakery in Farmington. After posing for countless photos, he rested his arms, elbows bent, on the kitchen island and admired the work of culinary art at eye level. Isaac, encouraged by his mom (my eldest), chose a rainbow theme because he attends early childhood class in the “Rainbow Room.”

Shortly thereafter Isaac leaned over the counter, watching as his dad sliced into the cake, cutting the first thin piece for the birthday boy. Nearby, his older sister hovered. Soon we all savored the layered chocolate cake with strawberry filling.

There would be no blowing out candles in this pandemic year.

The stack of birthday gifts. Isaac noticed that I failed to put bows on the ones I gave him, far right. I won’t forget again. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

Afterwards, we gathered in the living room to watch Isaac open his stack of gifts. I love how he first opened each card, not simply as a precursory gesture, but because he genuinely wanted to see the special wishes for him. He delighted in Mickey Mouse, three monkeys… But, by far, the greatest hit proved to be the musical “3” card with its happy birthday song. All gift unwrapping paused as he opened the card. Closed. Reopened. Celebratory music filled the room.

Isaac’s mom helps him open a card. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2022)

Finally, gift opening resumed. With lots of help from Isabelle. This year Isaac didn’t mind; next year he may. Among the gifts—a mini lantern to take to the “brown house” (Isaac’s label for an extended family lake cabin; his party location was listed as “the blue house”), a sensory exploration kit, puzzles, a sprawling farm play set, a suitcase and more. The “more” includes clothes from his other grandparents. I especially like the gold plaid flannel shirt. When you live in Minnesota, you can never have enough flannel. Even when you’re three.

What joy-filled hours we spent with the birthday boy. Randy and me. His uncle from Indiana, back in Minnesota for the holidays. His California grandparents and uncle and aunt now permanently relocated to Minnesota. His parents and sister. Only Isaac’s aunt and uncle from Wisconsin could not attend. Family embraced the birthday boy in a circle of love. To have those who love this little boy the most together to celebrate him swelled this grandma’s heart with endless happiness. What a joyful way to begin 2022.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

From flowers to cayenne peppers, a birthday celebration October 1, 2021

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A beautiful birthday bouquet from my eldest daughter and her family. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.

I RECENTLY CELEBRATED a milestone birthday and I’ve never been happier to turn another year older. Gone is my absurdly high monthly health insurance premium of $1,245 (with a $4,250 deductible), replaced by affordable (and usable) Medicare coverage. And now I’m also eligible for the Pfizer booster vaccine. Yeah. Here’s to turning sixty-five.

Walking through the prairie at River Bend toward the woods. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.

I didn’t celebrate my birthday with great fanfare or the usual birthday treat of dining out. (Even though vaccinated, I continue to be cautious and careful in these days of COVID-19.) Rather, Randy and I hiked across the prairie and woods at River Bend Nature Center, a treasured place to connect with nature in Faribault.

Omelet and hashbrowns, along with watermelon from the Faribault Farmers’ Market, comprised my birthday brunch. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.

Afterwards, I enjoyed a delicious brunch prepared by Randy. We dined al fresco on our patio at a card table draped in one of my many vintage tablecloths.

Then, in the afternoon, we spent time with our eldest daughter, her husband and our precious grandchildren at their home. I appreciated the grilled burger and vegetables with my favorite, cheesecake, for dessert. A wonderful way to celebrate.

The only thing that would have made my birthday even better would have been the presence of our second daughter, her husband and our son. But they called from southeastern Wisconsin and northwestern Indiana and that brought me joy.

Thank you to those who sent cards, this one from my second daughter and her husband. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.

Some friends and extended family also texted wishes. I got greeting cards, too.

Gladioli from The 3 Glad Girls. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.

And flowers. Randy purchased a clutch of gladioli at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. And when he presented them to me with a “Happy birthday!” while I was chatting with Andy Webster of MEG’S Edible Landscapes, Andy took note. “It’s your birthday?” he asked.

“Well, not today, but tomorrow,” I told him.

Smoked cayenne peppers gifted to me by Andy of MEG’S Edible Landscapes. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.

Then he scooped a baggie of smoked cayenne peppers from the table. “Happy birthday!” Andy said with a smile. Now if that wasn’t the sweetest gesture from a young man who lives on his dream rural acreage in the Sogn Valley, runs his business and is working on a horticulture degree from Oregon University.

Andy’s genuine passion for MEG’S Edible Landscapes showed in his pitch and his personality. He is a genuinely warm and engaging person. To summarize, Andy sells a mobile system for growing vegetables like peppers, basil, beans, lettuce, carrots and more in bags that you can easily pick up and move. It’s ideal, he said, for someone like me without garden space. If enthusiasm and knowledge make for business success, then Andy is certain to succeed.

His unexpected birthday gift of those smoked cayenne peppers touched me in a way that resonated deeply. In these challenging times, I needed that affirmation of an unexpected act of kindness. What a great way to begin my next year of life.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections on my mom’s birthday May 24, 2021

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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My sweet mom, featured on the Parkview Facebook page in May 2020.

THIS POST CELEBRATES my mom, who turns 80-something today. She likely will never read this. She can’t see well enough to read nor would she likely fully comprehend. But, none-the-less, I feel compelled to honor her with my words.

She’s proven such an inspiration to me. In my writing. In the way I live my life. In who I am. Her name, Arlene, is even part of my identity as her first-born daughter.

I recognize that, as time passes, our memories often skew and we see loved ones through rose-colored glasses. But my view of my mom remains consistent, unchanged. She is the definition of kindness. Of the mindset, “if you don’t have anything good to say about someone, then don’t say it.” Those weren’t just empty words. She followed them and advised us, her six children, to do the same.

The only photo I have of my mom holding me. My dad is holding my brother, Doug.

Mom, as busy as she was with raising three sons and three daughters on the farm, always found time to serve. In church. In the American Legion Auxiliary. At Red Cross blood drives. Wherever she was needed. Her selflessness is admirable.

I sometimes wonder what dreams she gave up. She attended business college in Mankato and worked for awhile before marrying and then settling into her role as farm wife and mother. I know the six of us occasionally tested her patience. I know she worked hard—washing clothes in a Maytag wringer washer, tending a large garden, preserving food, endless cooking and baking…

The old farmhouse to the left, with the “new house” in the background. That’s my sister Lanae standing on the front steps.

And I also know of one particular dream which became reality for my mom in 1967. For years I watched as she paged through house-building plans printed in booklets procured from the local lumberyard. She dreamed of more space for her growing family. Space expanding beyond the 1 ½-story wood-frame farmhouse with three small bedrooms, an oil-burning stove in the middle of the living room, a dirt cellar and no bathroom. Eventually, my parents built a new house and I can only imagine my mom’s relief and gratitude.

It’s not that Mom really cared all that much about material possessions. But having more room and something like an indoor bathroom made life easier. More comfortable.

The birthday cake booklet from which we chose animal cake designs. This copy was gifted to me by a friend.

We didn’t have much growing up. But, because of Mom, we didn’t realize that. On our birthdays, she would craft an animal-shaped cake design chosen from General Foods’ BAKER’S COCONUT ANIMAL CUT-UP CAKE booklet. There were no gifts. Not until I grew older did I understand our poverty. But we didn’t experience poverty in love. Even though this was an era when parents didn’t openly express love in hugs, kisses or words, I felt loved. Cherished. Cared for.

Today, as I reflect on my childhood, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for my mother and how she raised me to value faith and family. To respect others. To speak kindly. To serve.

Arlene’s 1951 Wabasso High School graduation portrait.

I feel grateful to still have her in this world, even as aging and health have changed her. Many times, beginning with a viral infection of the heart nearly 40 years ago, followed by open heart surgery, we wondered if she would make it. Too many times we, her family, were called to her bedside when she was not expected to survive. During uncontrollable bleeding, pneumonia, a fall that broke her neck and landed her in a trauma unit. I recall her comment after one hospital stay. “I guess God wasn’t ready for this stubborn old lady yet.” She was right. There’s a reason Mom is still here, even while wheelchair bound, tethered to oxygen, fading before our eyes.

She is still here to love. To cherish. And, on this her birthday, to honor with words of gratitude.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling