Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

When the feds target Minnesota, the state I love, I refuse to remain silent January 7, 2026

NOTE: As I was writing this post Wednesday morning, unbeknownst to me, tragedy was unfolding 40 miles away in south Minneapolis. An ICE agent shot and killed 37-year-old Renee Nicole Good, a Minneapolis resident. That is a fact. She was, according to a Minnesota state senator, a legal observer of federal actions. I decided to publish this post as written before learning of Renee’s death. No rewriting or editing. Right now my emotions are raw. I am outraged. I offer no apologies for my feelings.

This sign along I-90 welcomes travelers to Minnesota along the Mississippi River by La Crosse, Wisconsin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

WITH THE FEDERAL FOCUS on uncovering fraud and on heavy immigration enforcement in Minnesota right now, I’m feeling defensive. I understand that fraud is unacceptable. I, too, have concerns about the seemingly high amount of fraud in my home state. But I will say this. I feel like Minnesota is being unfairly and aggressively targeted on both the fraud and immigration enforcement fronts.

This seems more a personal vendetta by the President against our state than anything. He’s targeted our governor and our Somali community. And I’m not OK with that. Not the actions, not the rhetoric.

I photographed this sign in the window of a downtown Faribault business many years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

THE GOODNESS OF MINNESOTANS

But rather than turn this into a political rant, I want to tell you this: We in Minnesota are, for the most part, good, kind, decent people. The term “Minnesota Nice” is a moniker tagged to those of us who call this place home. It fits. We may live in a cold and snowy state, but we are not cold.

Our generosity shines in strong volunteerism, in supporting others. It also shines in an abundance of nonprofits that assist those in need. For example, one organization is currently heading up a workforce and emergency housing development project in Faribault. Within blocks of my home, I see those buildings rising. An all-volunteer local bookshop sells used books donated by community members. Profits go to the Rice County Area United Way. Local churches house food shelves. Local shelters and centers help those dealing with domestic abuse and violence and substance abuse. The list goes on and on of organizations dedicated to helping those in need.

On a personal level, I know a friend who has taken a man experiencing homelessness out to eat several times. Another friend gave her mittens to an unsheltered man. Two others paid for a bus ticket to Iowa for an individual without a home, per his request to return there. Another is assisting our immigrants as a trained Constitutional observer. These are small acts of kindness and care that go unnoticed, yet are happening throughout my community.

Photographed in my local library in 2024. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

AND THEN COMES ICE

As all of these good things are occurring in Minnesota, so is the negative. And right now that is massive ICE enforcement efforts, including in Faribault with its large Somali and Latino populations. Imagine if you were of either ethnicity, how fearful you would feel. You could be stopped simply because of your skin color, your dress, your spoken language. Grab, detain and ask questions later seems to be the mode of operation for ICE.

Clearly I have sidetracked here. But I offer no apologies for feeling as I do about aggressive ICE actions with agents wrongfully detaining people. I take issue also with elected officials who fail to do anything about this, who fail to protect Constitutional rights, who think this is alright.

The type of ice we like here in Minnesota is the frozen surface of a lake where we angle for fish in the winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

ICE OUT

In closing, I want to reiterate that I love Minnesota (except when winter gets too long). This is a wonderful place to live with its diverse geography, its natural beauty, its diverse residents, its strong arts community, its caring people…

I appreciate the many immigrants who have chosen to call Minnesota home. They make our communities stronger and better in endless ways. Just like my German ancestors who sailed across the Atlantic to America, eventually settling in Minnesota. I hope our newest residents in “The Land of 10,000 Lakes” find a welcoming place to establish roots, to grow a life.

Eventually they may even understand our Minnesota excitement over ice out after a long, cold winter.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Inside The Land of Plenty under “the king’s” rule January 6, 2026

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Protesters stand along Minnesota State Highway 3 in Northfield at a NO KINGS protest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2025)

ONCE UPON A TIME in The Land of Plenty, the leader of the land ruled like a king. Not a nice king. Not a kind king. But rather a mean-spirited one.

The leader had never been appointed king. It was a title he claimed for himself with oppressive authority. In truth, he’d been voted into his powerful position, not overwhelmingly as he declared, but rather in a close election. That should have been enough to tamp his crowing, rein in his overuse of superfluous adjectives and adverbs, deflate his super-inflated ego and encourage good behavior. But it was not to be.

ONE JANUARY DAY

Rather the self-proclaimed king, who’d been ousted from The Land of Plenty after his first tenure, determined to make up for lost time. Five years earlier, on an early January day, he attempted to retain power when his supporters stormed the castle. He claimed ignorance. Some believed him; many didn’t. Evidence doesn’t lie.

The king’s anger simmered, then boiled over when he returned to the castle feeling vindicated and empowered. A man of vengeance, he sought to punish any who opposed him. On the flip side, he freed those he considered wrongfully shackled. No one would do harm to him or his legion. No one. He was in charge. His decisions held absolute power. Only his voice mattered.

Threats. Intimidation. Cruel and demeaning words. Imprisonment. Deflection. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Conspiracy theories. All fit his mode of ruling. He would make The Land of Plenty great again, whatever that meant.

BROKEN PROMISES

He promised to end wars and claimed he had. He promised to lower prices. He promised to rid the land of strangers and foreigners. That sounded promising to all who supported him. No conflict, only peace. Fewer coins spent on food purchased in the town square marketplace. A strong land unlike any other, without foreigners roaming the streets, taking away jobs, committing crimes and creating chaos (his words).

Except it was the king creating chaos. Doing whatever he pleased. Causing discord. Divisions arose within the kingdom. World conflict increased. Prices spiked as the king imposed new taxes. The ruler of The Land of Plenty was viewed by millions as uncaring, ruthless, self-centered and far worse. Many felt his wrath.

SNATCHED, BANISHED

The king targeted strangers and foreigners who contributed greatly to the economy and success of the kingdom. They toiled in fields, wagon wheel factories, blacksmith shops, bakeries… Some even emptied his golden commode. But to the king, none of that mattered. “Go back to your homeland!” the king screamed. “We don’t want you here!” He decreed that the unwanted should be snatched, grabbed off the streets by his masked henchmen and banished. And so many were.

As the days, weeks, months and then a year passed since the self-proclaimed king resumed his rule, the situation in The Land of Plenty was far from fine. It was, in fact, rather awful, dire, especially for the lowly peasants who labored long hours for every coin. Many realized they’d been duped, led to believe in fairy tale endings. In happily ever after.

And so the story goes with three chapters unwritten, the ending unknown.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts as we begin 2026 during these challenging times in the U.S. January 1, 2026

I took this award-winning photo in 2012 at an International Festival in Faribault. To this day, it remains one of my favorite images reflecting diversity in my community. The gathered kids cared not about ethnicity, but only about breaking open a pinata. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2012)

AS THE NEW YEAR begins, I enter it with a whole lot of trepidation, uncertainty and concern. Feeling optimistic right now does not come easily. I fear for our country. I fear for my community. I fear for my Latino and Somali neighbors, targeted by the federal government. Yes, ICE agents are visible and active in Faribault. Though I have not seen them myself, this information comes from reliable sources.

I fear that we are becoming desensitized to the ICE snatchings. I fear we are becoming desensitized to the lies, the rhetoric, the hatred, the awfulness spewing from, well, way too many leaders and even everyday people.

A pin gifted to me by a friend this past summer. I now have it pinned to a small bag that holds my cellphone, my way of getting a message out there. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

What happened to common decency and goodness and kindness? And due process? Why is anyone accepting suppression, oppression, racism, discrimination and more as OK, especially those who claim Christianity as their belief system? None of what’s happening is Christian, not according to my Christian beliefs anyway. Not according to the Bible I read.

Encouraging words posted near a garden in the heart of downtown Faribault many years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

It’s hard, really hard, to remain hopeful in the light of all this. But I try. My mom raised me to be caring, kind and compassionate. She lived that way, helping others through volunteerism and monetary gifts, but mostly through her kind, quiet, gentle and caring spirit. She treated everyone with love and compassion. I wish Mom was still alive so I could talk to her about all of this.

A simple directive on a tombstone at Valley Grove. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

But sometimes the dead still speak to us. I don’t mean that in a literal sense, but rather in the legacies and words the once-living leave behind. It is one of the reasons I meander through cemeteries. Valley Grove Cemetery, rural Nerstrand, is one of those final resting places that offers an abundance of wisdom upon gravestones.

From my personal collection, a painting on burlap by Mexican artist Jose Maria de Servin that depicts peace. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

One particular tombstone stands out for the many positive affirmations it lists under the banner, BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS. (And this means authentic peacemakers, not those who pretend or claim to practice/bring peace.) Under that gravestone header is this broader message: EVERYONE HAS SOME GIFTS THAT CAN MAKE OUR WORLD A LITTLE BETTER. I absolutely agree.

Among a long list of ways we can make the world a better place as listed on a tombstone at Valley Grove Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Then, on the massive slab of stone, are written specific ways in which we can make the world better and live as peacemakers. I especially appreciate these two messages: TREAT OTHERS THE WAY YOU WANT TO BE TREATED. And BE KIND TO ALL AS YOU NEVER KNOW THEIR BURDENS.

Those are simple, uncomplicated directives that seem easy enough to follow. In 2026, it is my hope that we can shift back to being a caring country, where we treat others as we would like to be treated. And that is with kindness, compassion, care and love.

TELL ME: What are your hopes for 2026 in the U.S., your community? What are your concerns for the new year?

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

1984 Oceania & 2025 America December 31, 2025

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Here’s the early 1970s edition of “1984” which I read. The print was small, difficult to read.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2025)

MULTIPLE TIMES I NEARLY STOPPED reading the book. But I was determined to finish, although the process took weeks. Sometimes I could read many pages. Other times I had to stop, set the book aside and not pick it up for several days. Yet, I continued slogging through the pages.

What book caused me to struggle so? The answer: 1984 by George Orwell.

If you’ve never read this dystopian novel and, no, I hadn’t, you should. Written in 1949, it is so relevant to today that the book could easily be titled 2025. And that’s not a good thing.

I jotted four full-sized pages of notes while reading. And what emerged was downright scary, because the fiction Orwell penned 76 years ago strongly resembles the United States of America under our current administration.

PLOT SUMMARY

But first, a summary of 1984. Main character Winston Smith lives in Oceania, a country ruled by The Party and the unseen Big Brother, who is watching, always watching. Smith is a writer, working for The Ministry of Truth, which is anything but. Workers there are tasked with rewriting history, basically erasing the past. Censorship. Smith, however, secretly disagrees with The Party’s work and ideology. But he, like others of the same mind, must be careful, oh, so careful. No one can be trusted, as Smith eventually learns firsthand.

People are disappeared from the streets, snatched. Vaporized, as if they never existed.

Troubling words like hatred, Thought Police, thought crime and control emerge in this novel. All are connected to The Party, a party focused on absolute power, world domination, acquiring more territory, on shaping narrative, on eliminating art, literature and science.

If The Party told you that 2+2=5, you better believe that. Smith didn’t.

The Party aims for absolute dominance—authoritarian rule under a dictatorship that opposes individual freedom and seeks to control every facet of life and the mind. Children are indoctrinated, blindly following and adoring The Party, becoming little spies who will turn on anyone suspected of defying Big Brother’s ideology. A woman calls Big Brother “My Savior.” Big Brother’s image is imprinted upon a coin. The eyes are watching, always watching.

HOW WILL IT END?

As I turned page after page, I tried to hold hope that 1984 would end well, although I knew it wouldn’t. I can only hope that the fiction George Orwell wrote does not fully become our reality in America. Whether it does or doesn’t is on all of us.

We can choose love over hatred. We can choose to exercise our personal liberties by speaking up, voting, contacting our elected officials, protesting, standing strong in and for freedom. We can advocate for others, calling out wrongs, working for the marginalized, the “snatched,” those struggling emotionally, financially and otherwise. We can help, encourage, uplift. We can listen. We can remember and learn from the past, not some rewritten version of the past. We can stand up for art, science, literature, truth. We can support freedom of the press, turn to trusted and reliable media sources. We can declare that we, the people, hold the power. Not Big Brother. Not a single man or his followers. Not The Party. But, we, the people.

WE THE PEOPLE

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America. —Preamble to the United States Constitution

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TELL ME: Have you read 1984? If yes, what are your thoughts in the context of today, specifically in America? Do you see similarities, relevancy? What concerns you, if anything?

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections on diversity & growing community in Faribault December 30, 2025

Among the many hands of the Faribault community, painted in a mural. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

WHAT ARE WE without community? The answer: alone.

We, at our very core, need each other. In times of celebration. In times of challenges. Even in times of great division. Without friends, family, neighbors and others, we are but individuals without community.

This mural was painted for and placed outside the Congregational Church in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

And in Faribault, among the many murals adorning public spaces in the downtown area, one piece of art stands out as representing community. That is a free-standing mural placed on the west side of the Congregational Church of Faribault United Church of Christ this past summer. It seems an appropriate focal point to end 2025 and begin the new year.

The artwork, created by Shirley Rainey and her son Jason, features outstretched arms rising from the earth against a backdrop red heart and blue sky. “The mural represents the importance of coming together to share burdens and triumphs, while reaching for our highest selves,” Rainey said in an artist’s statement.

Henna painted on a hand reflects Somali culture. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I see that in the mural. But I also see a community of diversity. The Raineys show that in assorted skin tones, clothing, hand sizes and even henna painted on a hand. I love that about this art, this intentional, varied depiction of Faribault as it is—gloriously diverse.

That said, I am well aware of the racial tension (and that’s a tamped down word) in my community. I wish it didn’t exist, that we all got along, welcomed and embraced one another. We are, after all, just people who live, love, work, play, laugh, cry… The list of commonalities we share as humans goes on and on. Yes, we are different, too. But differences seen as negative, those we create.

The diverse hands of Faribault, up close, in the new community mural. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

We can learn from that church painting. We can choose to love one another, as portrayed in the over-sized backdrop red heart. We can stand side-by-side and raise our hands to help one another. We can see, in those arms stretched skyward, the possibilities in building community. In that blue sky, we can envision not only our personal dreams, but the dreams of all who call Faribault home.

Faribault is a multi-cultural community, always has been. From early settlement days to today, people have come here from around the world to start anew. Whether French, Irish, German, Scandinavian, Latino, Asian, Sudanese, Somalian or any of many other ethnicities, this place has become home. We can choose to create community or not.

I hope in 2026 that Faribault can build a better, stronger, more unified community which celebrates our commonalities, and our differences.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A Christmas message from southern Minnesota December 24, 2025

“Silent Night,” an acrylic painting by Adele Beals, for sale at the Holly Days Sale, Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

THERE’S MUCH TO PONDER this Christmas as we find our nation in turmoil. Anger simmers and boils. Discord rises. Oppression continues. Peace in our country, let alone throughout the world, feels more elusive than ever. These are difficult days.

A baby in a manger at my church, Trinity Lutheran, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

Likewise, the newborn Jesus and his parents faced similar challenges some 2,000 years ago. They were refugees who fled their Judean homeland for Egypt under the threat of an oppressive and violent leader. King Herod ordered all baby boys in Bethlehem to be killed after learning that a “King of the Jews” was born there. He feared being replaced. When I consider a leader so cold, calculating and cruel that he would mandate the killing of any boy age two and under to retain power, well, it seems unconscionable. But it was reality. And, had I been Mary, I also would have done everything possible to save my son.

Consider that in the context of today. Here. In America. Threats to our immigrants may not be as severe as death, although some have died in ICE custody. But detention and deportation, or the threat thereof, are very real. This is happening all over the U.S., including right here in my southern Minnesota community.

Photographed several years ago along a recreational trail in Madison, Wisconsin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

For example, locally-based HealthFinders Collaborative, a community health center serving the underserved and uninsured in my area, has issued a statement that their patients, staff, volunteers and others do not feel safe due to visibly present federal agents in our communities. People are canceling appointments. People are afraid. In response to the very real fear people are feeling, HealthFinders is expanding virtual visits and is locking clinic doors. I expect those living in biblical times felt similar angst under the authoritarian rule of King Herod. No wonder Mary and Joseph fled with Jesus to Egypt.

This Christmas I can’t pretend everything is OK while hatred, disparaging rhetoric and injustices run rampant in this country. As a woman of faith, I look at Jesus and see how he lovingly embraced people. He showed love, care, compassion, kindness. To all. He would not be alright with certain groups of people being hated on. He would not be OK with people targeted, hunted, gathered, detained, sent away. Poof. Gone.

Among my favorite signs/messages at a No Kings protest I attended in Northfield this past summer. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2025)

If there’s any message to take away from Christmas this year, it’s that we need to stand up for our neighbors. Ask ourselves the once-trendy question, “What Would Jesus Do?” We need to voice our concerns. Resist. Help. Encourage. Follow Jesus’ lead of serving, loving and supporting those who need us most right now. And that’s not the King Herods who choose power over humanity.

In closing, I hold hope that we, as individuals and a nation, will stand strong against that which oppresses us, that which is inhumane and that which is just plain wrong. We all, whether people of faith or not, inherently understand the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. Let us live as people who care about goodness, kindness, compassion, love and peace.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A chance encounter with Santa at the grocery store December 17, 2025

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Audrey Kletscher Helbling with Santa at a Faribault grocery store. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

WHEN I SPOTTED SANTA at the grocery store yesterday, I decided to get my picture taken with him. You’re never too old for Santa, right? But the Jolly Old Man didn’t even notice me, so busy was he guzzling his Coca-Cola while marketing Coke products.

I hadn’t considered that Santa would need a side job, especially during the hectic holiday season. Isn’t managing the elves, feeding the reindeer, making public appearances, reviewing kids’ Christmas lists and packing the sleigh enough for one man to handle?

But I suppose Santa, like all of us, is feeling the effects of higher prices. He’s paying tariffs on parts the elves can’t make. Mrs. Claus needs baking ingredients that have skyrocketed in price. The North Pole toy workshop heating bill is likely high, even higher than in icebox Minnesota. So Santa probably welcomes the extra income from his grocery store side hustle.

Undeterred by Santa turning his back on me, I cozied up to him and asked my dear husband to snap a photo. Randy obliged, but not without a look of concern. I didn’t care. I needed a spark of fun in my day. Santa obviously paid me no mind.

Now, if the marketer of Coke products, the supervisor of elves, the giver of wonderful gifts had taken the time to chat with me, I would have handed him a Christmas wish list. What I’d really like Santa to bring to this world, especially this country, are compassion, kindness, respect, empathy, peace and love.

In all reality, Santa can’t deliver on that. Only we can.

THOUGHTS?

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Resilience in a song December 5, 2025

A section of the Faribault High School Choir performs Thursday at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

AS THEY SANG, I felt my spirits rise, moved by the rhythm of “Resilience” and its empowering lyrics.

The acoustics inside this massive, historic cathedral make it a favorite spot for musicians, like the FHS Choir, to perform. Here Choir Master Ben Beaupre directs the students. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

This upbeat music, these words, were exactly what I needed to hear Thursday afternoon inside the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour as the Faribault High School Choir performed a holiday concert.

Resilience, we are strong; shoulder to shoulder keep movin’ on…stand up…yes, we can…

The beat of that song composed by Minnesotan Abbie Betinis and the message it carries…,well, it fit the day. It was a day when I awakened to a vivid nightmare running rampant through my mind. A dream of ICE agents in a black sedan converging on a community and chasing people out of a building. Gathering them, taking them away and me photographing and screaming at ICE to show some compassion and humanity.

An appreciative audience listens to the students sing. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

I needed to hear “Resilience,” written by a musician who has taught at nearby St. Olaf College and elsewhere and published the Justice Choir Songbook.

One of several stained glass windows, gifted by the Dakota to the Cathedral, backdrops Christmas decorations set on a sill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

As I watched and listened to the teens perform inside the historic Cathedral, I thought of the Native Americans who long ago worshiped here, befriended by Bishop Henry Whipple. They were not always welcome in this community. But inside the walls of this massive cathedral, they found a place of acceptance.

The students sang with power and joy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

And then I thought of those young people standing before me, strong in voice, delivering a message that didn’t sound at all like a Christmas song on the surface. But really, it was. Shoulder to shoulder keep movin’ on… The song felt joyful. Uplifting. Moving. Inspirational.

One of many audience members I spotted recording the concert. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

In a selection of songs about light, a Norwegian dala horse, decking the halls, a silent night and more, “Resilience” stood out. I suggested to the students afterwards that they should stand downtown along Central Avenue and sing of strength, resilience and standing shoulder to shoulder. I told them how much they had uplifted me, how much I appreciated and needed to hear that song. And one young man said he was glad he brought me joy via their music.

A student carries her drum through the reception space and then outside to a waiting school bus. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

After those conversations over lemonade and sweet treats, I headed home via Central Avenue. Between stops at a gaming store and a used bookshop, I popped into a corner business run by Somali Americans. Inspired by those high school musicians and deeply troubled by the hateful words directed by our president toward Somalis in Minnesota, I walked into the shop packed with colorful merchandise. “I just want to tell you how happy I am that you are here, that you are in our community,” I said. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happening.” My emotions rose. My voice cracked. Tears edged my eyes.

Then the Somali American man reached out and hugged me. He thanked me, told me it was OK, as did a woman sitting nearby. It was not my intention to cry. But everything just bubbled out. The worry. The concern. The injustice. The sorrow I feel over these Minnesotans being singled out and attacked, told they are “garbage” and are not wanted in this country. They who either fled a war-torn country or were born here and are working hard, like the two Somalis I met, to make a living and home in America.

Strength in actions. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)

I left that shop feeling the strength of my neighbors. Resilience, we are strong; shoulder to shoulder keep movin’ on…stand up…yes, we can…

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Commentary: I care about my neighbors, a free press, freedom & more December 3, 2025

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Protesting in Northfield at a NO KINGS rally. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2025)

I CAN’T IGNORE the news. I want to, no, need to, know what’s happening on all levels from local to international. Perhaps it’s my innate curiosity or my journalism background that compels me to read and watch media reports. I feel an obligation, especially in these challenging times, to be as informed as possible.

What I’ve been hearing and reading from the federal government in Washington DC continues to concern me. Deeply. I can hardly believe the rhetoric, the hatred, the awfulness that is flowing like hot lava from fiery mouths upon this land.

Somali women walk through downtown Faribault during a community event. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The latest is the hatred directed by our president toward Somalis living in America, including some 80,000 in Minnesota. My community of Faribault is home to many Somali Americans. The president has singled out Somalis in Minnesota with his derogatory words and planned, targeted ICE raids here. I am proud of the mayors of Minneapolis and St. Paul and other leaders, including the Minneapolis police chief, for speaking up and standing strong for the Somali community during a Tuesday afternoon news conference. They recognize the threat to this specific demographic. And they value the Somalis who call Minnesota home.

“Who,” I ask, “will be next? Me, because my eyes are green?” Maybe he doesn’t care for green-eyed people. Or you? Because he doesn’t like something about you.

This is a pig, not a female journalist. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

He certainly doesn’t care for journalists, especially female journalists. I realize a dislike of journalists is nothing new. But this president has gone well beyond “dislike” to outright meanness, bullying and name-calling. I never thought I would see the day when the leader of our country would chastise a reporter with “Quiet, piggy.” I never thought I would hear an American president call a reporter fat or terrible or ugly or any other adjective while hissing “fake news” at the media.

Bracelets against censorship and for rights. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)

When the U.S. government launched a Media Bias page on the official White House website just days ago, I felt nothing short of outraged. This is the United States of America, where freedom of the press ought to mean something, where the media is independent of the government, where reporters have a right and a duty to accurately report the truth without fear of intimidation, public shaming, recrimination,… This newest tactic of naming a “Media Offender of the Week” ought to anger every single person in this country. I don’t care what side of the political aisle you sit on. This latest action speaks to censorship, to controlling the press, to propaganda, to anything but democracy.

I value freedom. I hope you do, too, enough to stand up for a free press, individual rights, freedom from fear, intimidation, oppression and all that threatens us. These are unprecedented times (yes, I recognize that may be an overused word, but it fits) in our country. I refuse to remain silent.

THOUGHTS?

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Finding peace outside Nerstrand Elementary School & elsewhere December 2, 2025

I photographed this peace van parked outside a shop near Garrison this past summer. It took me back to the 70s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2025)

I CAME OF AGE in the early 1970s near the end of the Vietnam War. Those were years of national protests and pushing for peace. Young people, especially, embraced the word “peace”—in speech, in fashion, in actions. Like so many other teens of my era, I flashed the peace sign, wore peace-themed jewelry, drew the peace symbol on the covers of school notebooks. I once wrote a poem about peace, long forgotten now and tucked into a cardboard box among other long ago musings.

Love the message on the tee worn by a member of the Jackson Paulson Band when they performed at a Faribault Car Cruise Night this summer. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)

Lately, I’ve been musing about peace during these tumultuous times in which we live. So I challenged myself to look around for that which uplifts, enlightens, makes me smile. Gives me a sense of peace.

Harmony is a synonym for peace. This mural is on Minnesota’s Iron Range in Crosby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)

I found what I sought in art, actions and, most of all, words. I am, after all, a wordsmith. Someone who works with words. Building, shaping, sharing. Someone who understands that words hold great power to build up or destroy. Someone who understands that words matter. Greatly. They can inspire, give us hope, offer peace. Or just the opposite.

Nerstrand Meats sits several blocks from the school in the heart of downtown Nerstrand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

With peace on my mind, I revisited the Peace Garden at Nerstrand Elementary Charter School in the rural farming community of Nerstrand, population not quite 280 and perhaps best known as home to 135-year-old family-owned Nerstrand Meats & Catering.

This green space centers the Peace Garden outside the school entry. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

In 1999, the school was established as a peace site with the garden started in 2000 on the front lawn. That’s 25 years now of honoring peace. In words, art and plantings, this garden features 14 countries.

A unifying message posted at the Peace Garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Signage at the garden emphasizes that we all live under the same sun and moon on the same planet. We are all connected and all part of building a world “to make everyone proud.” That includes the U.S., Russia, China, Mexico, Canada… This is not a political message posted outside this small town Minnesota elementary school. Rather, this is a simple statement about those of us who call planet Earth our home.

To the right, Ukraine’s national flower, the sunflower, flourishes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I arrived on an autumn day looking for the newest addition to the Peace Garden. Ukraine. And I found it near a picnic table and bike rack—a yellow and blue (the colors of the Ukrainian flag) planter filled with towering sunflowers past their summer prime. As I paused and read the singular word “Kiev” on a sign, I thought of the people of Ukraine. Oh, how they must yearn for peace in the midst of ongoing war.

Sunflowers grow around a sign naming Ukraine’s capital city. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Peace on an international scale feels elusive, as it’s always been. But then the same can be said nationally. Disagreements have flamed into much more than differences of opinion.

While the word PEACE was photographed from the back (because I couldn’t get a front angle), it holds the same meaning either way. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Yet, here I stood outside a school where children grow their knowledge, begin to understand that this world is much bigger than Nerstrand or Rice County or Minnesota or the U.S. I’m thankful that each day, as these student walk into school, they see the word “PEACE” atop the roof.

Lovely landscaping, flowers and plants surround the art honoring China with an inspiring message. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

These children are our future. Perhaps they will grow to make peace marks upon their communities, maybe even the world. Perhaps they will live just ordinary lives, living peacefully among others while doing good. There’s so much potential.

Peace, a universal word we can understand no matter our home country. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

I needed to walk around the Nerstrand Peace Garden, take in the words, art, plantings. In the quiet of this small town where the school sits next to farm fields, peace feels possible.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling