Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Lost somewhere among the jack pines of northern Minnesota September 23, 2024

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Once we got west of Pine River, we were driving in unfamiliar territory. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

I FOLLOWED THE PRINTED directions as the phone squawked them aloud. We were about 15 miles west of Pine River, turning off County Road 2 (in whatever county) onto Minnesota State Highway 64.

My eyes moved down the paper, scanning for the next turn after three miles on the state highway. Take a left onto 12th St SW, Randy had written. He jotted the directions just for me because he knows I like the route mapped on paper.

“I hope it’s not gravel,” I said, noting the street, not county road, wordage

No sooner had the words popped from my mouth than the phone directed us left onto 12th Street. Randy steered off the highway. Onto gravel. Then the phone ceased barking. Our cell service had dropped.

Randy stopped the van after I protested. “I don’t want to drive on 7.3 miles of gravel.” I’d read ahead on the directions, noted the distance and noted the next two turns, onto Huntersville and Hubbard Roads. Probably more gravel.

If only we’d gone old school and relied on an atlas or a paper map. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

“Let’s just look at a map and figure out where to go,” I said, reaching for the glove box. No map. Randy had failed to transfer maps from our old van into the new-to-us used van we bought earlier this summer. I asked about an atlas, which we sometimes carry with us. Nope, that would be in my office.

So there we were, in the middle of nowhere in an unfamiliar area of northern Minnesota. No cell service. No map. No atlas. No anything except understanding that we needed to head northwest to reach our destination, Jack Pines Resort a mile outside of Osage. By that time I was feeling stressed. I had a book launch party to reach by 1 pm. I can’t even tell you what time it was at that point, except time to get moving.

Randy swung the van around, got back onto the northbound state highway, then took the next westbound asphalt road. I thought we were back on track…until the road began to curve, then straighten, then curve. Mile after mile after mile for perhaps 20-plus miles. Speeds dropped, sometime as low as 25 mph. We were not making good time. I was not a happy wife. Or a happy writer.

Eventually we reached our destination, Osage, shown here in the center of an atlas map. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2024)

Eventually, spotty cell service returned, long enough to open my email and read directions to the resort sent by the book event organizer. I felt my body relax. We might make it on time. And we did. With 10 minutes to grab name tags, pee and settle onto comfy chairs in the back row.

So what did we learn? You cannot rely on cellphone directions, especially in a no-cell-coverage-middle-of-nowhere-location. Always write down directions. Check that the planned route does not include gravel. And carry a paper map in your glove box. Had we done all of those things, I would not have been a stressed wife who was mad at her husband. But at least I wasn’t a stressed writer worried about reading her work aloud at the book launch party. I was too distracted by the stress of being lost.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

To the Minnesota northwoods for a book release party September 20, 2017

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TWO READINGS BEFORE MINE, Norma Thorstad Knapp stepped to the microphone to share “How Much She Had Lost.” As she read of her aging mother’s desire to waltz one more time, emotions rose. My throat constricted. Tears seeped from my eyes. Thinking of my 85-year-old mother, I wondered how I could possibly compose myself enough to read my short story.

 

I pose in front of Blueberry Pines Golf Club, setting for The Talking Stick book release party. Photo by Randy Helbling.

 

I signaled my husband for a tissue, then wiped my eyes. I sipped water through a straw. And I struggled to pull myself together before I stood behind the podium in this room full of writers and their supporters gathered at Blueberry Pines Golf Club between Menahga and Park Rapids for the release of Fine Lines, The Talking Stick, Volume 26.

 

 

Too soon, Sharon Harris, co-editor along with her niece, Tarah L. Wolff, introduced me and my story, “Art Obsession.”

 

Reading “Art Obsession.” Photo by Larry Risser Photography, Minneapolis.

 

I was on, reading the words that this year earned an honorable mention in fiction. Four other pieces, among the six I submitted, also published: “Grocery Shopping” (fiction); “A Lot of Prairie and a Little New York” and “The Weekly Phone Call” (both creative nonfiction); and “Not Quite Perfect Penmanship” (poetry).

 

 

 

 

It’s an honor to have my writing published in this outstanding collection of works by Minnesota writers or those with a strong connection to Minnesota. The 2017 anthology includes 152 pieces by 100 writers. I don’t envy the task of The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc editorial board in selecting stories and poems for publication from among 370 submissions by 159 writers. Noted writers LouAnn Shepard Muhm, Marge Barrett and Rochelle Hurt selected the first and second place winners from the board’s top picks.

As I listened to stories and poems for several hours with minimal comprehension of time, I delighted in the talent of these writers. Marlene Mattila Stoehr drew me in with her “Spurned Heirloom” poem that left me pondering whether my family treasures will some day, too, end up as thrift store cast-offs.

I laughed at Charles Johnson’s “Jimmy Gets an Earful” poem that sounded, oh, so Minnesotan to my ears.

 

The book cover photo was taken by Tarah L. Wolff.

 

A strong sense of place, of Minnesota, imprints upon the pages of The Talking Stick. I can relate to the settings, the experiences, the observations and more crafted into so many of the pieces in this exceptional anthology.

 

After the readings, some of us socialized. That’s Randy and me at the end of the table. I am seated next to Sharon Harris. Photo courtesy of Larry Risser Photography, Minneapolis.

 

This book is a labor of love for co-managing editor Sharon Harris. She holds a passion for writing and for this area of Minnesota. After the readings, a group of us gathered in the bar to celebrate and to talk. I’d never met Sharon, although we’ve corresponded and talked via phone many times through the years. Past commitments have kept me from attending previous The Talking Stick release parties. Sharon is as delightful in person as I anticipated. Her appreciation for the craft of writing is evident in her dedication to creating this anthology.

 

 

I felt an energetic vibe and sense of community among all of the writers. We share a love of writing. That passion flowed in words read to an appreciative audience gathered on a grey Saturday afternoon in a sprawling log cabin style building tucked among the jackpines of northern Minnesota.

Updated below at 4:30 p.m. September 20

FYI: I will be signing and selling (limited) copies of the anthology during a Local Authors Fair from 6 – 7 p.m. November 9 at Buckham Memorial Library in Faribault. Fine Lines, The Talking Stick Volume 26 is also available for purchase online. Check amazon.  Or order through The Talking Stick website by clicking here.

Photos by Larry Risser Photography are copyrighted and used with permission here.

Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling