Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A tale of two girls and a goat-napping August 30, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 3:03 PM
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This goat is not to be confused with the heisted goat. Rather this goat was photographed at the Kasota Zoo and is used for illustration purposes only with this blog post.

IF YOU HAVE NOT yet heard the tale out of Mankato about the young stepsisters—we’re talking under age 10—who stole a goat from a zoo in the middle of the night and were caught walking down a street in their pajamas with the goat, then click here.

While this story could have ended not-so-happily, it did. The girls and the goat are fine, although the stepsisters could be in trouble with their parents, or the law.

After lying to the police about how they got the goat, the 6 and 7-year-olds eventually fessed-up and the truth was uncovered. They’d been to a birthday party at Sibley Park Zoo earlier in the day and apparently decided they just had to have a goat.

I heard this story on the 10 p.m. news Monday and laughed and laughed and then laughed some more.

I know, maybe I shouldn’t be laughing. Stealing is wrong. Lying is wrong. But in these days of news stories about natural disasters, war, murders, unemployment, a depressed economy, scandalous politics and more, you have to appreciate an imaginative caper like two kids stealing a goat from a zoo, in their p.j.s, in the middle of the night.

And sometimes you just have to view life with a Betsy-Tacy-Tib perspective.

Betsy, Tacy and Tib, for those of you unfamiliar with that trio, are characters in a series of children’s books written by Mankato author Maud Hart Lovelace and published between 1940–1955. The three, based on real-life friends growing up in Mankato (Deep Valley in the books), get into all sorts of mischief.

The fictional trio made quite a mess in the kitchen when they mixed up “Everything Pudding” combining ingredients like bacon grease, vinegar, onions, sugar, red pepper and more.

Another time they cut each other’s hair.

Betsy cuts Tacy's hair in this snippet from a mural by artist Marian Anderson in the Maud Hart Lovelace Children's Wing at the Blue Earth County Library in Mankato.

And once the three ventured into Little Syria for a picnic lunch. There they encountered a goat. They didn’t steal the goat. He stole from them, grabbing their picnic basket and scattering sandwiches, cookies and hard-boiled eggs in all directions.

Yup, sometimes you have to laugh, whether it’s at the antics of a goat in a book of fiction or the antics of real-life goat thieves who seem like they could have stepped right off the pages of a Betsy-Tacy book.

FYI: The girls with the Betsy-Tacy-Tib mischievous streak and the goat were apprehended along Carney Avenue. Coincidence or not, one of the books in Lovelace’s series is titled Carney’s House Party. And Carney’s surname is Sibley.

WHAT’S YOUR TAKE on this story about the stepsisters who stole the goat from Sibley Park Zoo in Mankato? Share your thoughts by submitting a comment.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Five years after a hit-and-run driver struck my son May 12, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:16 AM
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I live on one of Faribault's busiest residential streets, also a main route for the ambulance.

FIVE YEARS AGO TODAY on May 12, 2006, my then 12-year-old son was struck by a car as he crossed the street to his school bus stop.

Less than a block from home, his slender body slammed against a car and then somersaulted through the air. He landed dazed, shaken and injured along the side of the street.

Fear, unlike any I had ever experienced, gripped my heart and consumed my very being on that cool and drizzly May morning two days before Mother’s Day. In the minutes between my awareness of the accident and the confirmation that my son was OK, I feared the worst—that I had lost my boy.

I had not. He suffered only a broken bone in his hand, a bump on his head, scrapes and a possible rib fracture. Minor injuries, really, compared to what could have been.

For too many parents, the tragic death of a child is reality and I wonder how they cope. Via faith, family and friends? Somehow they manage to go on living.

In my son’s case, I also wonder how the driver copes. He/she fled the scene and has never been found. How can that driver of a blue, 4-door Chevrolet Cavalier or Corsica live with his/her actions?

It is incomprehensible to me that anyone could strike a child with a vehicle and then simply drive away.

Faribault police, early on, suspected the driver had a reason—ie. driving without a license, driving drunk, no insurance, prior record—to leave.

Despite numerous leads, including one which came via an anonymous letter penned by someone with a personal vendetta against a named suspect and another which led investigators to a prison cell, a credible suspect has never been found.

On several occasions police thought they were close to finding the driver. I have not given up hope that the driver can still be found—if conscience finally prevails and/or an individual with knowledge of this too-long-hidden secret chooses to do the right thing and step forward with information.

While the statute of limitations expired three years after the hit-and-run, Neal Pederson of the Faribault Police Department tells me that the case remains open and that his office will follow up on any tips or leads. He noted, however, that if the driver lived out of state for a period of time, the clock stops and the crime could still be investigated and charged.

Anyone with information about the hit-and-run can anonymously call the Faribault Police Department tip line at 507-334-0999 or Crime Stoppers of Minnesota at 1-800-222-8477.

I don’t dwell on finding the driver. A $1,000 reward offered several years ago for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the hit-and-run driver is no longer valid. I always hoped that honesty and decency, not a monetary reward, would be the motivating factors in solving this case.

As five years have passed, many, many times I have thanked God for protecting my son from worse injury.

Sometimes still—when I hear the screaming wail of an ambulance as it passes my house along our busy street or when I read a news story about a hit-and-run or drunk driving death—I think of that May morning when my son was struck.

I try to forget. But a memory like this remains forever.

LAST YEAR I WROTE the following poem, which won honorable mention in the poetry division of a state-wide anthology competition. “Hit-and-Run” printed in The Talking Stick, Volume 19, Forgotten Roads, published by The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc.

Hit-and-Run

 In that moment, I know,

as the rivulets of water course down my body,

as I step from the tub

dripping puddles onto the linoleum,

that the sirens wail

for you,

my boy, my only son.

#

You, who tossed your backpack

over your bony shoulders,

then hurried

toward the street,

toward the bus stop.

#

While I showered,

you crossed carelessly,

your fragile body bouncing

off the car

you had not seen,

flailing in a somersault,

landing hard on the pavement.

Sirens scream, and I know.

#

Panic grips,

holds tight my heart,

my very soul,

as I race from the bathroom,

wrapped in a bath towel,

stand immobile,

watching the pulsating red lights

of the police car

angled on the street,

blocking the path to you.

#

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Another reminder that I don’t live in Mayberry May 11, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:37 AM
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YESTERDAY MORNING I was obliviously writing on my computer when I noticed a young man standing directly in front of the sidewalk leading to my front door. Now, lots of pedestrians pass my home. But, typically, they do not stand and stare at my house. And typically, they are not wearing black baseball caps tipped to the side nor do red bandannas sprout from their back pockets.

I was not born yesterday. I am well aware of gang colors and attire.

But this man was committing no crime by standing there on a public sidewalk.

However, my intuition told me to keep an eye on him and to let him know I had seen him.

So I walked into the living room, making sure he spotted me through the open front door. I considered slamming the interior door and locking the dead bolt in place. But I figured with a locked screen door, traffic passing by and my cell phone within reach, I was safe. Besides, I didn’t want him to think I was intimidated or afraid.

So I returned to my office, until I heard voices. I walked back to the living room to find the man, now joined by a young woman, sitting on my front steps within feet of me.

I didn’t really think, just strode over to the screen door and boldly blurted, “What are you doing on my front steps?”

The guy said something I couldn’t hear due to the traffic noise and my hearing loss.

But the woman sneered, “Sitting here.”

They didn’t move.

I didn’t budge.

For a split second I worried that I had made a grave mistake by confronting them.

But then they slowly got up and ambled across the street. I watched as the man grabbed at the woman’s arm and she pulled back. I was fully prepared to call 911 to report an assault if the situation escalated. But it didn’t and the couple continued on, separately, until they entered a nearby house.

My husband and I have called 911 before—once in the dead of a cold winter night during an assault and once when a young man pounded on our door seeking protection from a throng of would-be attackers pursuing him.

We don’t live in a high crime neighborhood, like Faribault has a high crime neighborhood. But our community is certainly not immune to serious crime.

Many years ago, two blocks from my house, a man was stabbed in a drug-related case. I watched as a SWAT team searched my block for the murder weapon, a knife.

Last year the SWAT team drove past my house en route to a meth house bust three blocks away.

For years, suspected drug dealers lived across the street from me.

Gang graffiti has been painted onto buildings, fences, stop signs and more as close as directly across the street from me.

I’ve attended several level three sex offender meetings with one of the offenders moving in two blocks away.

Faribault is not Mayberry R.F.D. And yesterday I was reminded of that once again.

ACCORDING TO INFORMATION published in the 2010 Faribault Police Department’s annual report, the Rice County Gang Suppression Unit “has identified 50 gangs and approximately 350 gang members with ties to the City of Faribault. Of the 350, 150 are confirmed gang members, meaning they meet at least three of ten state defined criteria.”

READERS, HOW WOULD YOU have handled the situation I faced yesterday with the suspicious young man staring at my house and then sitting on my front steps with the young woman? Should I have ignored them, done something differently?

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

You’ve won $2 million March 4, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:13 AM
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A FRIEND—I’ll call her Alice—phoned yesterday. Unfortunately at the moment I answered the telephone, I was inputting some photos into my computer and I had to set down the receiver and finish that task.

When I returned, I asked, “What’s up?”

“It’s important,” she answered, her voice wavering.

Then Alice proceeded to tell me about the phone call from a man announcing that she had won a new car and $2 million. Instantly, my radar kicked in.

Alice had been instructed to go to the embroidery department of a local big box retailer and pick up some receipts. When she told the caller she didn’t know where the embroidery department was located, he advised her to go to the pharmacy area. Later that day, she was supposed to expect a delivery truck at her house.

She wondered if this was a scam.

I didn’t even hesitate. First, I told Alice to call the police. She already had. Secondly, I told her not to follow the instructions and not to give money to anyone. I emphasized that, absolutely, undeniably, this was all bogus. She had not won anything.

But, I could also tell, for a few seconds during our conversation, that Alice might have been persuaded to believe that she really had won $2 million and a new car. I’m not clear on the details of how my friend would have claimed her “prize,” but she did mention something about $2,000. I assume that’s the fee she was supposed to pay for the $2 million and that shiny new auto. She seemed somewhat confused about the process. By the way, Alice is a reasonable and cautious woman.

Alice had the caller’s phone number; it popped up on her television screen. He had also given her a cell phone number.

I assured Alice that she had done the right thing by contacting the police and that she should call me again if she needed to talk. I knew she was upset and unsettled.

Later in the day, I checked back with my friend. Alice was doing OK, but shared that she had been really nervous during the phone conversation with the unknown caller. He was difficult to understand and may have had a southern accent, she said.

I speculated he more than likely had a foreign accent.

A week ago I saw a piece on ABC’s television show What Would You Do? about a Nigerian man trying to scam an elderly woman, I told Alice. ABC’s 20/20 news show reported earlier on such Nigerian-based scams.

When I hear news stories like this, I never really believe such an attempted scam could happen in a Midwestern community like Faribault and especially to a friend. Yesterday I was proven wrong.

HAVE YOU, or someone you know, ever been the target of an attempted scam? If so, I’d like to hear about your, or your acquaintance’s, experience.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The neighbor no one wants February 24, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:13 AM
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I WALKED OUT OF A NEARLY TWO-HOUR meeting last night at the Faribault Police Department wondering how many more times I will need to sit through a session like this.

For at least the third time, if not the fourth (I’ve lost track), I attended a level three sex offender community notification meeting.

On March 1, a level three offender—designated as most likely to re-offend—is moving into a rental unit in the 300 block of Willow Street, within two blocks of my home. The 34-year-old registered predatory offender has been convicted twice, and sent to prison, for sex crimes against 15-year-old females in Dakota and Rice counties.

He also has an extensive juvenile and adult history of criminal and chemical abuse activity. Some of those crimes involved theft and domestic assault and a shotgun. We weren’t given a detailed list of all his crimes, but he’s not the kind of guy you want moving into your neighborhood.

No one was up in arms at the meeting, which was sparsely attended, I believe, due to the “if it’s not in my neighborhood I don’t care” attitude or perhaps a lack of awareness about the offender moving here. But those who attended, especially mothers whose daughters fit his victim age group of young teens, expressed their very real concerns.

The man’s 15-year-old victims included one with whom he had a relationship and another whom he met at a party and who was under the influence of alcohol. In that last August 2004 assault in Rice County, the offender was sentenced to 98 months in prison. He was released on April 26, 2010, into another Faribault neighborhood. (Surprise. I didn’t know that.) Six months later he was back in prison for violating rules of his supervision by having access to the internet.

Presenter Mark Bliven of the Minnesota Department of Corrections advised attendees to educate their children, offering lists of safety tips. Faribault Police Chief Dan Collins added that many crimes are “crimes of opportunity.” We’ve all heard it before—and I suppose a refresher course doesn’t hurt—but I was more interested in hearing specifics about my new neighbor. So, yes, I asked questions, lots of them.

If we are to believe Bliven, residents outside of my neighborhood and the Faribault community ought to be more concerned about this level three sex offender than those of us living close to him. Typically, he said, offenders, if they recommit, do so outside of their neighborhoods, away from the places where they know they are being watched.

Most often, he added, if offenders are returned to prison, it is for non-criminal offenses, ie. violation of their supervised release. My new neighbor can’t drink, can’t hang out with minors, can’t access the internet, can’t break the law, can’t just go (for now) wherever he pleases…

Bliven spewed out statistics, like 16,500 registered predatory offenders were living in Minnesota as of January 1, 2011. That number encompasses mostly sex offenders, but also includes those involved in crimes of kidnapping and false imprisonment.

Within Minnesota communities there are currently 203 level three offenders. About half of those live in Minneapolis. Of the 203, there are 71 under supervision; 132 are unsupervised.

Come March 1, two level three offenders will be living in Faribault.

We know about those two offenders because they are classified as level three, at high risk for re-offending. By state law, community notification is required.

But 63 other registered predatory offenders live in Faribault. Thirty more live in other parts of Rice County. Their identities are unknown to us because they are classified at lower risk levels.

Throughout the meeting, Blevin tried to reassure us. The offender will be on intensive supervised release until April 24, 2020. He must register as a predatory offender for life. He will be on an active GPS for up to 60 days…six probation officers will be watching him.

Neighbors will be watching too.

I wasn’t upset by the information I learned at Wednesday night’s meeting. I’ve been through this before. I expected to hear what I heard. I truly believe that knowledge is power in protecting ourselves and our children.

What I found most unsettling, because I did not expect this, happened after the meeting. As my husband and I were driving away from the police department, we saw a Rice County probation officer—the supervising agent for the offender moving into my neighborhood—open the back door of her car and slip a bullet-proof vest over her head. I don’t know where she was headed or what she was doing, but that was a frightening reality check for me.

#

CLICK HERE to reach the Minnesota Department of Corrections website for more information about the level three sex offender moving to Faribault on March 1.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Balancing security, freedom and accessibility at the Capitol January 12, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:16 AM
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I photographed the Minnesota State Capitol during a fall 2009 tour.

TWICE IN MY LIFE, I’ve toured the Minnesota State Capitol.

The first time was back in the 1960s, when my sixth grade classmates and I traveled some 130 miles from Vesta Elementary School on a field trip to St. Paul.

Then, more than four decades later in the fall of 2009, my husband, teenage son and I toured the Capitol while on a day-trip.

 

Italian marble columns embrace the Capitol's grand stairway.

While the grandeur of the building with its marble columns and staircases, opulent furnishings, ornate carvings and impressionable art certainly awed me, I was most struck by an assertion from our tour guide.

“This is the people’s place. You own this building,” he told us repeatedly. And, yes, that’s a direct quote. I was taking notes because I later wrote a magazine feature story about my Capitol visit.

 

The lavish Governor's Reception Room at the Capitol.

I remember thinking then, and writing later, how I would love to welcome guests into the lavish Governor’s Reception Room with dark wood, leather chairs, extensive carvings, heavy drapes, a fireplace and historic paintings.

I also remember feeling surprised that our tour group could just walk into the reception room. At the time, I also wondered which door would lead me to the governor.

Now, today, in the aftermath of the wounding of Arizona Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and 13 others and the shooting deaths of six in last Saturday’s attack, I am rethinking our fall 2009 visit to the Minnesota State Capitol.

Because the legislature was not in session when we were there, the building felt almost abandoned to me. I don’t recall seeing hardly anyone, let alone a security presence, anywhere. And security cameras? If they were there, I didn’t notice them, not that I was looking.

Honestly, I was a bit of a lagger during our fast-paced tour. I dawdled and lollygagged to snap photos. I expect our guide noticed my lingering with only five tourists in our group. But he never said anything and I probably could have slipped inside somewhere I shouldn’t have been if I really wanted to do so.

I felt then like I could have wandered anywhere and that surprised me.

Today, in the wake of the Arizona shootings, security issues are once again, as you know, the focus of concern at places like the Capitol complex. But the dilemma lies, as you also know, in balancing security needs with public accessibility.

Here’s a paragraph lifted from that magazine feature I wrote about my Capitol visit:

“Remember, it’s we the people,” our guide impresses upon us as we sit in the House chamber gallery. After a half hour of listening to him, I am beginning to feel like I own this place, like my voice could make a difference. He speaks of approachable lawmakers, who are open to constituents and who mentor pages. As we stand in a back stairwell, he tells of lobbyists and lawmakers who mingle here during the legislative session.

 

A view of the Minnesota House of Representatives chamber from the gallery.

Looking from the gallery onto the Senate floor.

I wonder now if those legislators and lobbyists will mingle so easily in that back stairway.

Will those of us who tour the Capitol still feel as comfortable as we did before the Arizona shooting?

Will the Capitol guides still tell visitors: “This is the people’s place. You own this building.”

If you read these words inscribed in the Capitol, will you take them to heart?

“The true grandeur of nations is in those qualities which constitute the true greatness of the individual. Labor to keep alive in your heart that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”

Will you wonder about the weight of these words written above the doorway and viewable from the Minnesota Supreme Court bench?

“Where law ends tyranny begins.”

Conscience and tyranny and law.

The Arizona shootings do not qualify as tyranny, but the violence fits the definition of tyrannical—harsh, severe, unjust, cruel.

How do we weigh it all? Security, freedom and accessibility.

I have no answers.

 

Words from The Declaration of Independence inspire on the House ceiling.

The Star of the North centers the floor of the Capitol rotunda in the "people's place."

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

If she only had a Rolex November 5, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:32 AM
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DID YOU HEAR about the St. Paul car dealership owner who was robbed this week of $5,000 in cash and a $20,000 Rolex watch?

Two men posing as would-be customers attacked the owner of Brothers Auto Sales after he accompanied them off-grounds to view a trade-in. The whole thing was a set-up. The duo punched, kicked, tackled and maced the auto dealer while stealing his wallet and watch.

Sadly, reports like this really don’t surprise me any more.

But what surprises me about this crime is the value of the watch. A $20,000 watch? You’ve got to be kidding, right? I had no idea, none, nada, that a Rolex costs that much.

Who has that kind of money to spend on a watch?

Of course, these comments are coming from someone who buys her watch at Walmart. Even if I could afford a Rolex, which I clearly can’t, why would I need a time-piece that costs thousands and thousands of dollars when I can get a working watch for under $20? Both keep time, although I’m certain my discount store watch is not nearly as fashionable as a Rolex.

 

 

My Walmart watch photographs just like a Rolex in this unedited image.

 

My comments are not meant, in any way, to diminish the crime or the harm inflicted upon the victim.

But this whole $20,000 watch thing really bothers me, especially since just hours earlier my 22-year-old daughter and I were discussing repayment of her college loans, all $20,000.

Gee, if only she had a Rolex to pawn.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An attack in Argentina and how I’m dealing with the crime in Minnesota September 29, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:50 AM
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WHEN THE PHONE RANG early Tuesday afternoon and I picked up to a dial tone, I didn’t think much of it. Just another telemarketer, I figured. But then, the phone sounded again and my 20-something daughter was on the line, speaking to me from Argentina.

“It’s good to hear from you,” I say, surprised really that she is calling given we spoke only several days earlier.

“Well, uh, Mom, I was robbed last night,” she tells me.

I am shocked, momentarily speechless, until I spit out the dreaded words, “Are you OK?”

She is. But her purse and all of its contents are gone—her debit and credit cards, and other important identification, her cell phone and camera. She is stranded, without money, or access to money, with only her passport, in northern Argentina, hours and hours away from her temporary home in Buenos Aires and 6,000 miles from her Minnesota home.

I am thankful, first, that she has not been physically hurt. She sounds fine; she’s had more time than me to digest what’s happened.

Then I ask for details because I need to know how this happened. My daughter shares how she and her friend Ivanna were walking through a “nice neighborhood” toward downtown around 8:30 p.m. Monday when a man came out of nowhere from behind them. He grabbed for my daughter’s purse and as she fought off her attacker, Ivanna screamed for help. Eventually the man got the purse as my daughter fell to the ground. Her assailant, in his mid 30s, sprinted away, hopping onto the back of a motorcycle driven by his accomplice.

Then my second-born tells me she saw no gun, no knife, and I am relieved, yet scared all over again thinking about the possibilities.

All I want is to see my daughter, to hug her, to feel her hair brushing against my cheek, to tell her I love her, to keep her safe.

But for now I can only listen and offer words and lay out a plan to deal with the aftermath of this crime. She and Ivanna immediately went to the local police station. My daughter tells me they waited for an interminable time to speak to the single employee who was working. Several other employees there were simply joking around, she says, and offered no assistance.

Vicariously I am already angry with the police system in this large northern Argentine city. I wonder what today will bring when the two must return to the police station to work on a composite sketch of their attacker.

Back here in Minnesota, I have already spent hours on the phone contacting companies and agencies about the stolen cards. Everyone I’ve talked to has been kind and understanding when I explain what has happened. That reduces the stress level some. Yet, all the phone calls, all the directives to do this and that are wearing on me. During several conversations my voice cracks and I struggle to keep from totally breaking down.

I know this could happen to anyone, anywhere. My oldest daughter, who lives in Minneapolis, tells me this, that this crime could happen on the streets of Minneapolis. She is right. Yet, when an assault like this occurs in a foreign country, 6,000 miles from Minnesota, the whole situation becomes more complicated by distance and communication issues.

I have no doubt that my daughter will recover. She is a strong woman.

As for me, I am counting the days now—23 of them—until she arrives at The Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. I cannot wait to have my daughter back, safe in my arms, far from the men who would rob her, and me, of our security.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A kidnapping, killing of a police officer, bomb threat & more unnerve Minnesotans May 6, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:47 AM
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THE PAST FEW DAYS have been more than a bit unsettling for Minnesotans.

Here’s why:

  • A 14-year-old girl from tiny Fairfax is kidnapped while on her morning paper route and then sexually-assaulted in a cemetery. She escapes her captor, who has since been arrested and charged.

This happened in rural southwestern Minnesota, an area I know well because I grew up in Redwood County. After I left home and graduated from college, I worked as a newspaper reporter in Gaylord, several small towns away from Fairfax along Minnesota Highway 19. I drove through Fairfax every time I returned to my hometown.

Later, I worked for The Sleepy Eye Herald-Dispatch in Sleepy Eye, even closer to Fairfax. My northern coverage area reached to Fort Ridgely State Park just south of Fairfax.

Somehow, when you know the places involved, a serious crime like this really hits home. And the fact that my cousin Dawn and her family live in Morgan, near where the girl was found, makes this crime even more personal. Read my May 5 blog post to see how Dawn’s family was impacted.

Knowing southwestern Minnesota as I do, I can only imagine how residents of these closely-knit small towns are feeling—shocked, fearful, angry, less trusting, shaken…

  • Tuesday evening a SWAT team gathered on the street by my Faribault home. As I watched, the SWAT vehicle and a contingent of squad cars turned right and proceeded up the hill. I later learned that they made a meth bust three blocks away.

Unfortunately, this is not the first time law enforcement has descended upon my neighborhood. A decade or more ago, they were searching for a knife used in a murder two blocks away.

Yes, I lost my small-town innocence years ago. In the 25 years my family has lived in this house, we’ve called 911 several times. Once, my husband and I awoke to the frantic screams of a woman calling for help in the early hours of a cold January morning. An ambulance hauled one person away.

Another time a young man came to our door pleading for help as he was chased by a pack of young men. And, yes, we saw his pursuers and worried that they would burst into our home.

And then there was the time we, unknowingly, sold a car to a member of a Twin Cities gang. Police later found a gun, involved in a shooting, in the trunk of the car, still registered to us.

Long ago, I lost my trusting innocence.

  • And then, just several days ago, a Minnesota Department of Agriculture employee reportedly threatened to blow up a Minnesota state office building, the place where my eldest works.
  • On Saturday, Maplewood Police Sgt. Joseph Bergeron was shot to death, still buckled in his seatbelt, en route to investigate a reported car-jacking.

Yes, these have been unsettling days for me, and for many Minnesotans.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling