Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Celebrating a memorable milestone birthday September 29, 2026

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Some of the many birthday cards I received, including a watercolor floral, right, painted by my friend Valerie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)

I REACHED A MILESTONE birthday recently. I didn’t celebrate in any big way. Birthdays have become for me almost like any other day. Yet, my closest loved ones assured that I would experience some memorable moments.

My birthday bouquet from the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)

Let’s start with the morning of my birthday. Randy, per my “I would like a caramel roll for breakfast” word drop the evening prior, delivered on that. He also picked up the loveliest mixed bouquet of dahlias and other flowers from the Faribault Farmers’ Market. My birthday was off to a great start.

The rest of the day was low key with grocery shopping, protesting (I could have done without the obscene words shouted at us and the vehicles threatening our safety), a library visit, a walk between rain showers and then, for supper, take-out from The Twisted Chicken. The owner, when I told him my new age, proclaimed that no way did I look fill in the blank here. He even asked an employee to guess my age. Her answer of 55 was way off. I laughed. Whether they were messing with me or not doesn’t matter. They made me feel good.

Video chats with my second daughter and the 20-month-old grandson in eastern Wisconsin and another with my son and his girlfriend in Boston added to my birthday happiness. Above anything, I want to connect with family on my birthday.

My hand-quilled birthday card crafted by young women in rural Vietnam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)

Earlier in the week, the Boston couple sent me a birthday card handcrafted in Vietnam. It features a clutch of reddish orange flowers created by rolling and gluing strips of kishu paper into a design via the art of quilling. This card, representing resilience, hope and the power of creativity, as noted on the back, will soon be displayed as art in my home. I love the piece and the from-the-heart messages the two wrote inside.

My family knows me well and how much I appreciate the arts. And cards. When my birthday card arrived from Wisconsin, it included abstract art by my toddler grandson. That immediately went on the front of my fridge.

Not to be outdone by their much younger cousin, my other two grandkids, ages seven and ten, gave an impromptu concert the following day for Randy and me. Surprisingly, it did not include the Happy Birthday song, but rather a short song the granddaughter wrote and then songs her younger brother is playing as he starts piano lessons. I couldn’t have asked for a more enjoyable concert.

The interior entry to Escapology in the Burnsville Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)

The music followed my biggest birthday adventure, joining my eldest daughter and her family at Escapology in Burnsville where we tried to find a missing treasure in the game “Lost City.” We did an escape room several months ago at Copper Cat Escape Games in Brainerd and enjoyed it immensely. So we thought we’d try again. Although we found the treasure and escaped the room in Burnsville with several minutes to spare, it was not easy. We needed help along the way. I also struggled to see in the dimly-lit rooms. And all of us struggled to decipher markings. This experience won’t dissuade me from doing an escape room again though.

I joked with the Escapology game master that the treasure chest should have held chocolate coins. I expect my daughter was thinking, “I’m sure glad I got Mom a bag of dark chocolate sea salt caramel candy.” That’s exactly the sweet treat I found along with a handful of family photos when I opened a gift bag afterwards at her house.

I blow out candles on my slice of birthday cheesecake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2026)

We gathered in the kitchen for my favorite dessert, cheesecake, among festive birthday decorations. I even had candles on my slice of turtle cheesecake as my family sang “Happy birthday!”

Family and friends, via cards, texts, video chats, art, music, flowers, treats and an escape room adventure, made this milestone birthday memorable. I felt, and still feel, incredibly loved.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on Alexander Faribault upon his June 22 birthday June 17, 2026

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The Alexander Faribault house, a historic site owned by the Rice County Historical Society. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED since I toured the nondescript wood-frame house built by Alexander Faribault in 1853. Multiple times a week I pass by this house which sits along busy Minnesota State Highway 60 in downtown Faribault. It’s become so much a part of the local landscape that I don’t even notice the building which was briefly home to Faribault and his family. But it’s an important part of local history given Alexander Faribault founded the town in 1855.

A promo for the upcoming birthday celebration features a photo of Alexander Faribault. (Promo credit: Rice County Historical Society)

On Monday, June 22, Alexander Faribault will be celebrated at a free birthday open house from 5-6:30 p.m. in his former home at 12 First Avenue Northeast. Born 220 years ago in 1806, Faribault died at age 76 in November 1882.

Attendees at the upcoming birthday celebration can learn a whole lot more about Faribault, the town and the house from staff and volunteers with the Rice County Historical Society. I’m always up to learning more about the city I’ve called home since 1984.

This sculpture of Alexander Faribault with a Dakota trading partner stands in Faribault’s Heritage Park near the Straight River and site of Faribault’s trading post. It sits atop the Bea Duncan Memorial Fountain. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I know the basics about Alexander Faribault, a licensed fur trader who first established a trading post along the Cannon River in 1826 or 1827, depending on your information source. He was only twenty years old. He grew his business throughout the region, trading with the Wahpekute, a band of the Dakota, and moving his trading post to the confluence of the Cannon and Straight Rivers, current-day Faribault.

A mural on the former Erickson Furniture business features Alexander Faribault against the backdrop of the city’s historic viaduct. The “bridging” theme fits Faribault the man and Faribault the city. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I imagine for Faribault, who was French Canadian and Dakota, developing trading partnerships with the Dakota proved easy given his understanding of the people, their language and culture. But later that same relationship proved challenging for him. Some locals, after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862, no longer appreciated his friendship with the Dakota and his willingness to shelter some of them on his farm.

This scene in downtown Faribault reflects our community’s diversity. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Back then, just like today, this community has not always been accepting of others. In the 1860s, the Dakota were targeted. Today it is the Somali community. It’s disheartening when history repeats itself, when differences in skin color, food, culture and language separate us. Alexander Faribault, as a mixed blood who embraced the Dakota, surely witnessed and felt the challenges of injustices and discrimination.

Children gather around a pinata at an international festival in Faribault. It is one of my favorite award-winning photos. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

My community has certainly made progress in welcoming all to our city. Yet, we could do better. I still hear derogatory comments about our Somali neighbors, worsened by the current political climate. I still hear derogatory comments about our Hispanic neighbors, made worse by current immigration policies. We are all, unless Indigenous or descendants of slaves, of immigrant roots, something people often forget.

An overview of Alexander Faribault’s gravesite in Calvary Cemetery on the west edge of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Alexander Faribault wasn’t “from” here. He was born in Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin. But he came here, established a fur trading business and eventually founded the city of Faribault. By all accounts, he was kind, generous and compassionate and served in many capacities from interpreter to territorial legislator to school board member to postmaster. I’m sure he had his flaws. We all do. But it seems Alexander Faribault did his best to build a strong and inclusive community that has grown into the diverse city of today. I think he’d appreciate a legacy of diversity.

A snippet of the words written about Alexander Faribault on a memorial marker at Calvary Cemetery, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

On a 1958 marker at the entrance to Calvary Cemetery where Alexander Faribault is buried, these words are written about him: Race or creed did not color his judgments. He saw in every man the image of God and thereby the possibility of making this a better place in which to live.

Those seem necessary and profound words for all of us to read. Especially today.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Boss Baby, aka Everett, turns one January 21, 2026

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Everett and his Boss Baby-themed birthday cake. Photo intentionally cropped to only show a portion of Everett. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2026)

I OCCASIONALLY CALL HIM “darling Everett.” His parents sometimes call him “Sweet Pea.” He is my grandson Everett, who recently turned one and whose birthday we celebrated in Madison, Wisconsin, on Sunday.

For one day, he was also “The Boss Baby.” That 2017 movie themed Everett’s party with watching the film a prerequisite for party-goers. Everett likely could have cared less whether he was a birthday boss. He did, however, look adorable in his upper management tuxedo style onesie worn for photos only. The size two suit was too small and couldn’t be bottom snapped onto his nearly 30-pound lengthy body. So off it came shortly after the party began.

Everett has been above average in size since birth. His wide chest and 10-pound birth weight complicated his delivery with my daughter nearly dying due to severe postpartum hemorrhaging that required three units of blood. So, yes, this party brought back memories of Everett’s difficult birth and how thankful we all are that his mama survived.

Everett gets messy eating his birthday cake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2026)

Here was this beautiful baby boy a year later strapped into his high chair fisting a thin slice of a custom made Boss Baby three-layer cake, all eyes on him. As we—parents, maternal grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousins and a family friend—gathered round to sing “Happy birthday,” Everett took it all in. And I felt the love that comes with celebrating someone you love deeply and widely.

Next to Everett’s birthday banner, his mama hung photos she took each month to document his growth during his first year of life. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2026)

I know I am biased as Everett’s grandma. But he is one cute baby with a head full of blonde curls. He was born with dark, straight hair. In the past year, this one-year-old has grown and changed so much, as babies do. Everett began walking on his birthday and by party day moved with confidence. His new-found skill brought many a smile.

Guests played a customized BINGO game created by Everett’s mom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo January 2026)

It was a joy-filled afternoon for all nine of us gathered on a cold January afternoon in eastern Wisconsin to celebrate Everett. We laughed, took lots of photos of the birthday boy while he ate his cake and sort of opened gifts. We played Everett BINGO, a customized game that tested our knowledge of the birthday boy. He could have been a Felix or a Cora. Ceiling fans once mesmerized him. His favorite Pokemon is Pikachu, according to his two young Minnesota cousins.

These are the memories I hold now of my grandson’s first birthday party, the memories I carried back to my southern Minnesota home a four-hour drive away. I miss Everett already. I also missed out on holding and cuddling him because he would have none of that. From anyone. He’s become a mama and daddy’s boy in the presence of anyone mostly unfamiliar to him, dear family or not. That was hard on me. I wanted to scoop Everett into my arms, hold him, read to him, do all those things grandmas do with their grandbabies. I recognize this as a phase because Everett’s mama was the same way at this age.

For now I hope frequent video calls will grow Everett’s trust of me. His oldest cousin Izzy, 9, has an even better idea: Move closer to family. If only The Boss Baby would make an executive decision to relocate hundreds of miles west to Minnesota. Or at least far western Wisconsin. The Minnesota division of his company would appreciate that immensely, thank you.

© Copyright 2026 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