The Memory Tree at Trinity Lutheran Church, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
WHEN THE PAPER ANGELS come off the tree, the personalized ornaments go up. From Angel Tree to Memory Tree, an artificial tree standing in the narthex of my church, Trinity Lutheran in Faribault, morphs each holiday season.
From Angel Tree to Memory Tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
First, my long-time Bible study group assembles and decorates the tree which serves duo purposes. From this tree, people choose paper angels upon which anonymous identifying information is printed. Age, sex and Christmas gift ideas. People who pick an angel then buy gifts and bring them back unwrapped. My bible study group wraps most with some left unwrapped as nonprofit social service organizations request.
This mini John Deere tractor honors Harland. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
Once this project is done, the tree becomes a Memory Tree, a place where people can honor loved ones via a personal ornament tagged with the name of the deceased and his/her death date.
Barb ran a local hair salon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
I love this idea because we have all lost loved ones whom we miss, especially during the holidays. The ornaments on this tree are a visual reminder of our loss and love. This tree represents communal grief. To acknowledge and share grief is to find our way toward healing.
Marv loved living in the country and farming. His youngest daughter and her family now live and farm on the family farm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2025)
This Christmas, may the memories you hold of loved ones now gone bring a smile to your face, joy to your heart, perhaps even tears to your eyes. We grieve because we loved. Hold onto the memories, hold onto the love.
I RUSHED HOME from the grocery store late Saturday morning to watch the live broadcast of the funerals of Melissa and Mark Hortman, shot to death in their Minnesota home two weeks ago during an apparent politically-motivated assassination. Melissa was Minnesota’s Speaker of the House, a respected politician, but, more importantly, a beloved wife, mother, daughter, friend, neighbor and more. Much more.
The private service at the Basilica of Saint Mary in Minneapolis revealed the professional and personal sides of the Hortmans with stories shared during eulogies after the Catholic Mass. Laughter rang through the massive church, filling the spaces between grief.
I jotted down 3 ½ pages of notes, not only to share information with you, but also because I focus better, retain more, by doing that. It’s also the reporter in me emerging.
HERE FOR EACH OTHER IN OUR GRIEF
So what stood out? A lot.
First, it was a recognition that we are all grieving. Individually. Collectively, as a state. “Nothing conveys love and support more than presence,” presiding pastor, Father Daniel Griffith, told those packing the pews. That included former President Joe Biden and former Vice President Kamala Harris, sitting in the front row next to Minnesota Governor Tim Walz and Gwen Walz. The Hortmans’ adult children, Colin and Sophie, and other family sat just across the aisle.
LIGHT & HOPE IN DARKNESS
The remarkable strength of Colin and Sophie continues to stand out. Rev. Griffith noted the courage and grace of the two, saying they are “a source of light and hope in the darkness.” In a message earlier released to the public, the siblings called for each of us to make our communities better for someone else. Plant a tree. Pet a dog. Stand up for justice and peace. And more.
“GROUND ZERO” FOR CHANGE
Father Griffith, with permission of the Hortman family, spoke candidly. The nation, he said, is “in need of deep healing.” He referred to Minnesota as a past “ground zero” for racial injustice in the 2020 killing of George Floyd and now for political violence and extremism in the murders of the Hortmans and the shootings of Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, on the same morning. The Hoffmans are recovering, John still hospitalized. Minnesota, Griffith said, can now be the “ground zero” for restoration, justice and healing. If we work together. And strongly decry injustice and violence.
“Peace & Love,” an acrylic painting by Angelina Dornquast exhibited at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)
LET THERE BE PEACE
Words like hope, goodness and kindness were repeated often during the lengthy service. Likewise justice and peace. The gospel reading of The Beatitudes from Matthew 5 seemed especially fitting: Blessed are those who mourn…blessed are the merciful…blessed are the peacemakers…
Peace. Father Griffith shared that Melissa’s mother found a worn copy of the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi in her daughter’s purse. I expect it’s familiar to most of you. Lord make me an instrument of your peace… Colin later read that prayer, a moment I found profoundly moving. In his grief, he had the composure to share those powerful words of where there is hatred, let me sow love… I can only imagine how proud his parents would have been.
DOING GOOD
Governor Walz said Melissa’s goal in life was “to get as much good done for as many people as possible.” He pointed to her legislative efforts that resulted in fewer kids living in poverty, safe and secure housing for Minnesotans and more trees. She loved trees and gardening. Earlier, the priest referenced much the same, calling service and community the Hortmans’ guiding lights.
LAUGHTER IN STORIES
But it was close family friend and former co-worker (at the Legal Aid Society of Minneapolis), Robin Ann Williams, who brought laughter to the Basilica with her personal stories. She shared about a call from Melissa to help choose a paint color for her kitchen. When Williams arrived, she found all the paint samples were shades of beige. The kitchen is still beige. The kitchen centered gatherings, like the “Gourmet Supper Club” dinners with law school friends. Mark Hortman’s sour dough bread was better than his home-brewed beer, she said. Laughter erupted often, especially when she held up a souvenir photo placard of vice presidential candidate, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, which Melissa brought home for her friend from the national DFL convention.
Photographed in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo August 2019)
JOY & MORE ARE POSSIBLE
On this Saturday, the funeral was not about politics, though. It was about coming together to celebrate the Hortmans, to honor their memories, to reflect on their public and private lives, to collectively grieve. The day prior, some 7,500 people converged on the Minnesota State Capitol to pay their respects as the couple and their dog, Gilbert, lay in state.
“We are buried in sorrow right now,” family friend Williams said, adding that joy will come.
I have to believe it will, if we begin to follow the advice of the Hortman children, the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, the teachings of The Beatitudes and the directive of Father Griffith to work together for restoration, justice and healing.
The Star of the North centers the floor of the Minnesota State Capitol rotunda,where Melissa and Mark Hortman will lie in state today.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2009)
MINNESOTA REMAINS A STATE in mourning over the assassinations of State Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, nearly two weeks ago. Today the couple, and their golden retriever, Gilbert, also killed in the shootings, will lie in state inside the Capitol rotunda from noon to 5 p.m. The public can pay their respects in this building where Melissa served as speaker of the House and worked across the aisle to pass legislation in a divided legislature. Private funeral services are set for Saturday.
Minnesota State Representative Melissa Hortman (Photo source: Minnesota House of Representatives website)
In this moment, on this day, I hope politics and differences can be set aside to honor and remember Melissa and Mark as loving parents, neighbors, friends and colleagues. Human beings who were gunned down in their home during the early morning hours of Saturday, June 14, by a man impersonating a police officer.
The tragedy of their deaths and the shootings of Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, also inside their home on the same morning by the same man, have left an indelible mark upon Minnesota, a place where we are known for our “Minnesota Nice.” I think we’ve lost some of that in the current divisiveness within our state and country.
But it is the Hortmans’ adult children, Sophie and Colin, who have circled us back to what really matters. In a statement released days after their parents’ murders, the siblings, among other things, called for this:
“Hope and resilience are the enemy of fear. Our parents lived their lives with immense dedication to their fellow humans. This tragedy must become a moment for us to come together. Hold your loved ones a little closer. Love your neighbors. Treat each other with respect and kindness. The best way to honor our parents’ memory is to do something, whether big or small, to make our community just a little better for someone else.”
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Let’s take a closer look at some of their words. First, hope. It’s one of my favorite words because it represents the promise that things will get better. It’s not only a noun, but a verb.
Next, resilience represents strength, bouncing back from something devastating, hard, tragic. It’s possible to be resilient, especially with the support of others. I hope Sophie and Colin Hortman feel the collective support of Minnesotans. We need to lean into and on each other in this moment.
I used magnetic words to craft this message for my fridge. This is something we should all practice. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The two are asking us to come together. I’ve seen that happen after this tragedy with politicians jointly expressing their condolences and outrage over the assassinations. I hope that cohesiveness lasts. But I doubt it will. Yet, that doesn’t mean we can’t strive individually and collectively to listen, to compromise, to see each other as individuals with the same basic needs. People who laugh and cry and live and love. Separately and together.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
In honor of their parents, Sophie and Colin ask us to love, to treat each other with respect and kindness. It’s really not that hard to practice all three. We are each capable of choosing love over hate. We are capable, too, of respecting others. Choose words that uplift rather than belittle. Choose words that are nice, not mean. Choose words carefully, thoughtfully. And treat others with compassion and care. Simply be kind.
Today, as we mourn the senseless deaths of Melissa and Mark Hortman, I am grateful to their children for reminding all of us how to live our lives. In their grief, Sophie and Colin show us what we can and should be. Loving, kind, respectful. And nice.
Dangling beads inside the doorway to “The 50’s and 60’s Room” at the West Concord Historical Society hearken to the era of Bobby Sherman.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2015)
“JULIE, JULIE, DO YA love me?” Oh, how I wished it was, “Audrey, Audrey, do ya love me?” Such were my thoughts when Bobby Sherman sang that Billboard Hot 100 hit in 1970.
Sherman died this week at age 81, leaving behind a generation of Baby Boomers like me who were hopelessly, madly in love with the teen idol. He was charismatic, good-looking with his shaggy long hair, simply everything a smitten girl could want in a crush.
An Elvis display at a St. Charles antique shop, which I visited years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
And that’s exactly what our relationship was—puppy love. Like generations of teen girls before and after me, I fell in love with handsome heart throb singers. Others fell for Elvis, Donny Osmond, Justin Bieber… Ditto for boy bands.
But back in my day, in the 1960s and 1970s, the likes, looks and lyrics of Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy captured my heart. Sherman even made a guest appearance on Cassidy’s “The Partridge Family” TV show. Both were actors and musicians. And both often sang about unrequited love, as in Sherman’s performance of “Julie, Do Ya Love Me” by songwriter Tom Bahler.
Tiger Beat magazine,photographed many years ago in a St. Peter antique shop. The magazine was in print publication from 1965-2018. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
It’s interesting that, upon Sherman’s death, I could not think of a single song he sang. But when prompted with playbacks, I remembered. Mostly, though, I remember how my cousin Joyce and I paged through her copies of Tiger Beat magazine whenever my family visited hers. She would pull out her copies of this American teen fan publication and we would swoon over photos of our much-loved celebrities like Bobby Sherman. I don’t recall reading the stories, but we probably did. Photos, though, left a lasting impression. Sherman graced the cover of Tiger Beat and Sixteen magazines countless times. I can picture him still all feathered or shaggy hair, big smile and a choker around his neck.
Beyond Tiger Beat, my cousin also plastered her bedroom walls with teen idol posters. Joyce was much more tuned in to celebrity life than me. She had older sisters. I didn’t. Regardless, we shared a love of Bobby Sherman, who sang about Julie. Not about Audrey or Joyce, just two teenagers hanging out in a southwestern Minnesota farmhouse bedroom, dreaming of love while thumbing through Tiger Beat magazine.
TELL ME: Did you have a favorite heart throb singer or band? Maybe Bobby Sherman. Let’s hear. I also really like/liked Rod Stewart, Chicago, Bread, Lobo, The Carpenters, John Denver…
A member of the Faribault Color Guard holds the American Flag during the Memorial Day program. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
TWO THINGS IN THIS YEAR’S Faribault Memorial Day observances stood out for me from previous events. First, three military women—Kerrie Johnsrud, Peggy Johnson and Stephanie Johnsrud—were honored. Second, a soldier killed in action during the Vietnam War was remembered.
A large crowd (this shows only a portion) gathers in Central Park for the Memorial Day program. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Both touched me in a memorable way. Too often, women have been overlooked. Not this year. Not in Faribault. Honored Combat Veteran Stephanie Johnsrud drove that point home by reminding the crowd gathered at Central Park that anyone can be a veteran, even a woman, and to break the stigma of women in the military. She served with the Army National Guard, including deployments to Kuwait and Iraq. Upon her return, the veteran wanted to have a welcome home party at a local military club, something met with a less-than-warm reception. It was heartbreaking to hear her words.
This banner of Thomas Eastman and other Faribault Hometown Heroes hangs in the front window of the former Eastman Music. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Equally heartbreaking was the story of Army PFC Thomas Eastman, 21, of rural Faribault who was killed in Vietnam on May 5, 1966. He’d been deployed as an infantryman only months earlier. His name is listed on panel 7E, Line 30, of the Vietnam Memorial Wall, one of 1,086 Minnesotans listed on that monument.
Love seeing children in attendance, listening and learning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Keynote speaker and emcee Gordy Kosfeld shared a bit about this young man, a 1963 Kenyon High School graduate. It was that information which personalized Eastman, took him from statistic to a beloved son, brother, uncle and friend. He wore thick glasses, loved fast cars, dogs and reading. And he planned to return to the farm upon his discharge.
“All gave some. Some gave all.” A meaningful message on a t-shirt. I saw another message, “You matter,” printed on a plain black tee. I told the young man wearing it how much I appreciated those two simple, yet powerful, words. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Eastman, Kosfeld said, sounded like “an ordinary guy” who died in a far away land in service to country. He was and he did. I think sometimes, in the mass of numbers, we forget that our military men and women are, like Eastman, individuals with families and stories, likes and dislikes, and loved ones back home who miss them. And, if they are killed in action, with loved ones who deeply grieve their tragic deaths. That includes 58,000-plus during the Vietnam War.
The emcee pointed out this unexpected patriotic visual, worn by a young woman on stage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
During the past year, many grieved the loss of 109 Rice County veterans. Our veterans are aging. Dying. Men like Carl W. Ames, Phillip J. Dorn and my friend, 100-year-old Elmer R. Schulz. And, among all those male veterans, four deceased female veterans, Donna L. Schultz, Beverly J. Miller, Donna M. Cleland and Debra G. Norman. All 109 names were listed on the Memorial Day service program, a visual reminder that imprints upon the spirit the importance of honoring veterans not only in death, but in life.
A veteran pays his respects by saluting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
And that we did on Monday morning in Faribault’s Central Park. Young and old. We listened. We honored. We remembered.
Members of the Faribault American Legion Auxiliary placed wreaths, each representing a war or conflict, on or at the base of this cross during Faribault’s Memorial Day program. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
My father, Elvern Kletscher, left, with two of his soldier buddies in Korea.
WHEN MEMORIAL DAY ROLLS around each May, my thoughts shift to my dad, who served on the front lines during the Korean War. He survived, albeit with the emotional trauma that comes from killing and constant danger of being killed. His close buddy, though, did not survive. And that is the man I remember and honor today, along with others who’ve lost their lives in service to country.
Sonny Nealon, Ray’s best friend in high school, sent me this photo of Ray’s gravestone. (Photo credit Sonny Nealon)
Corporal Ray W. Scheibe, 22, of Wolbach, Nebraska, died on June 2, 1953, blown apart by a mortar shell. My dad witnessed his horrific death, for war is nothing short of horrible. Ray was scheduled to leave Korea the next day, which makes his story even more tragic. He left behind grieving friends and family, including his wife, Marilyn, and 3-month-old daughter, Terri Rae, whom he had not yet seen. I’ve since found and connected with Terri in Iowa, but have yet to meet her.
A story about Cpl. Ray W. Scheibe, published in the July 23, 1953, issue of The Wolbach Messenger.
It is the individual stories of soldiers like Ray that take war to a personal level. A level that allows us to understand the meaning of the words “killed in action.” My father’s grief in losing Ray became, in some ways, my grief, too.
Playing taps at a past Memorial Day program in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2016)
On Memorial Day we gather in collective grief to remember the many men and women who, like Ray, died while serving in the U.S. military. There will be parades and speeches, patriotic music and poetry, poppies and red-white-and-blue attire. Names read. Tears shed. Taps played. Guns fired. Flags carried. Graves visited.
In our hearts, in the silence of our thoughts, we reflect upon what it truly means to give up life for country as did Ray and 27 other men listed in a July 31, 1953, memorial service bulletin my dad carried home from Korea. Below those names are these words from Scripture: Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).
Honoring fallen soldiers with a special monument at the Rice County Veterans’ Memorial in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I get emotional as I open the creased, soiled and yellowing 72-year-old memorial service program from Such’am-dong, Korea. I’ve tucked it into a shoebox with Dad’s other military papers, photos and belongings to pull out twice annually on Memorial and Veterans Days. I need to read the fading typewritten names, to recognize and honor these men who never made it home.
I reread the list of alphabetized names from Turrell Anderson to Vernie Zurn. Raymond W. Scheibe falls at number 24. The surviving men of the 2nd Battalion, 65th Infantry Regiment, who mourned the 28 on that July day in 1953, carried the heavy weight of grief as they prayed, stood in silence, sang “America the Beautiful” and “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee.” And then they carried that grief home.
Grief in a note and mums left at the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall in Faribault. It honors Rich Lozinski, Class of 1958, Minneota, Minnesota. According to the online Wall list of those KIA, the name is spelled “Lozenski.” Rich was only 26 when he was killed in Quang Tri Province on May 19, 1967. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)
Today, even decades after the death of a service member in war, grief carries through generations. It’s important to remember that, to respect that, to take time on Memorial Day for not only honoring, but also for grieving. In grief we begin to acknowledge and process loss. In grief we begin to heal. And in grief we begin to understand the ultimate sacrifice for country.
TELL ME: If you have a story to share about a service member who was killed in action, I’d like to hear. Who do you honor on this Memorial Day?
Faribault artist Kate Langlais painted this acrylic portrait of Pope Francis, displayed at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault, in 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2022)
HER COMMENT SUMMARIZES what many Catholics and others are likely thinking this week as they mourn the passing of Pope Francis on Easter Monday. Dorothy Storch writes this on the Facebook page of the Church of St. Patrick, Shieldsville. a rural southern Minnesota church near me: “Our Pope of peace and mercy, kindness and love. A man of God.”
A side and rear view of St. Wenceslaus Catholic Church, New Prague. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Perhaps that could be written about previous popes and other faith leaders. But not always. And not with the depth of admiration for Pope Francis, often termed “The people’s pope.” He changed things up in the Catholic church, opening minds and hearts and relating to people in a way that made him seem more like one of us.
Mass, about to begin at the Basilica of Saint Stanislaus Kostka in Winona. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
A posting on the Facebook page of the Church of St. Dominic, 16 miles to the northeast of Shieldsville in Northfield, explains: “His life was a shining example of humility, compassion, and servant leadership. Pope Francis reminded us through both word and action what it means to care for the poor, to welcome the outcast, and to live simply with a heart open to God. He walked closely with the people, always pointing toward mercy by living our faith with the same grace and humility.”
Loving words from the Bible in the heart of downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Even though I am not of the Catholic faith, I’ve heard, read and seen enough media reports about Pope Francis to understand that he was, indeed, a compassionate man of both words and actions. Words, especially when you are a faith leader, require positive action. Pope Francis visited inmates, embraced those with disabilities, met with migrants, washed feet and much more. Washing someone’s feet is truly an act of humility and service.
“Faysel,” who fled the war in Somalia.Kate Langlais created this portrait for an “I Am Minnesota” project featuring our state’s newest immigrants. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Pope Francis advocated for migrants, immigrants, refugees and others, calling for compassion and care. Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio to Italian immigrants in Argentina, this first pope of the Americas understood the plight of immigrants and other marginalized populations. He wasn’t afraid to speak up, to take a stand for what he thought was right, what Jesus would have him, and all of us, say and do. He gave voice to the voiceless, to those silenced by power, policies, politics and life-altering destructive actions. He built bridges, not walls.
Children of many ethnicities are part of the Mary statue in Mary’s Garden at St. Wenceslaus Catholic Church, New Prague. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
In acknowledging the passing of Pope Francis, a post on the New Prague, Minnesota, Catholic Community Facebook page calls him “a figure who has left an indelible mark on the Catholic Church and the world.” I agree with that assessment of a man who cared deeply about people, and about the environment. We could all learn from this thoughtful pope who intentionally took the papal name of Francis from Saint Francis of Assisi, a man of faith focused on poverty, peace and protecting the earth.
I expect Pope Francis would have laughed at these solar popes (not of him) which I photographed many years ago at LARK Toys in Kellogg, Minnesota.Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I love how Pope Francis loved. And I love how he loved to laugh. In 2024, he invited comedians from around the world to the Vatican, underscoring the importance of laughter, recognizing its healing power. I recently watched a video clip of him kissing an infant dressed in papal garb along a parade route. A member of his security team brought the baby girl to the pope riding in his Pope Mobile. His broad smile said it all. Pope Francis didn’t find the costumed infant to be disrespectful of him, but rather a reason to laugh. I need to laugh more. We all need to laugh more.
“Peace and Love,” an acrylic portrait by Angelina Dornquast. Photographed in an exhibit at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)
What a legacy Pope Francis leaves. It is my hope that the next pope selected by the conclave of cardinals will continue in the path of humility, compassion and kindness. I want Dorothy Storch from St. Patrick’s in rural southern Minnesota to describe the new pope as “our Pope of peace and mercy, kindness and love,” just as she did Jorge Mario Bergoglio, the son of immigrants. He who humbly served with compassionate words and actions, becoming a much-beloved and respected world faith leader.
Love at a past student art show at the Paradise Center for the Arts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
May Pope Francis, now lying inside a simple wooden coffin, rest in peace at the Basilica of Saint Mary Major, which sits in an area of Rome heavily-populated by immigrants. With his coffin and burial choices, “the people’s pope” makes a strong statement even in death about living with grace, humility and compassion, loving all, always.
A bison photo by Jim Brandenburg hangs to the left and the photographer talks about his work in a video, right, inside the Brandenburg Gallery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
IN MY EYES, he was Minnesota’s best-known photographer. Exceptionally talented. No one even comes close to matching the wildlife and nature photography of Jim Brandenburg. He died April 4 at the age of 79. Not only has Minnesota lost a creative icon, but so has the world. Brandenburg’s prolific work was featured in National Geographic Magazine, earning him the publication’s coveted Lifetime Achievement Award in 2023. His award-winning photos were widely-published internationally. He also published numerous books featuring collections of his photos.
The entry to the Brandenburg Gallery, located in the Rock County Courthouse square. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
But there is perhaps one lesser-known place where Brandenburg’s images can be found. And that’s in the Brandenburg Gallery inside the historic Rock County Courthouse in his hometown of Luverne. That’s in the extreme southwestern corner of Minnesota. The prairie. My prairie.
Light plays upon walls, floors and Brandenburg photos in a stairway display. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
Eleven years ago I toured that gallery, studying and enjoying a sampling of Brandenburg’s images. Many in this collection are prairie-themed. Because I’m a photographer, I viewed his photos with a more focused perspective, noticing angles, light, background and all the components which come together in creating an outstanding image.
Some of Brandenburg’s photo books. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
Every photographer understands that light is the very basic element to consider in shooting photos. Brandenburg challenged himself to take a single picture per day between the autumnal equinox and the winter solstice. The result is his collection of photos, Chased by the Light: A 90-Day Journey, a favorite of mine among his books.
Beautiful natural scenery on the prairie near Blue Mounds State Park. The part of the prairie where I grew up is not rocky like this and is a bit further north. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
When I traveled to Luverne in 2013 to visit the Brandenburg Gallery and other attractions, including Blue Mounds State Park, I was returning to the wide open land and big skies of the prairie, the place that shaped me as a person, photographer and writer. The same can be said for Brandenburg. He loved the prairie and, in fact, established the Brandenburg Prairie Foundation aimed at southwest Minnesota native prairie education, preservation and expansion. His organization partnered with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to purchase nearly 1,000 acres of untilled Rock County prairie, creating Touch the Sky Northern Tallgrass Prairie National Wildlife Refuge.
Those environmental efforts are revealing. Brandenburg cared deeply about the land, especially the prairie. After college, he returned to the prairie and worked as a picture editor at The Worthington Daily Globe. While there, he freelanced for National Geographic Magazine. And so his career developed until he became that homegrown photographer whose work so many worldwide grew to appreciate and love.
Wolf photos displayed in the Brandenberg Gallery. Brandenburg’s published books include Brother Wolf–A Forgotten Promise. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
I admire photographers who excel in the craft. And Brandenburg certainly excels in wildlife photography, a specialized field that requires much more than understanding photo basics. Photographing wildlife requires incredible patience and knowledge of animals. I have neither. But when you look at a Brandenburg photo, it’s like you are right there up close with the subject. Perhaps a wolf—one of his favorite subjects. Or bison. You can see the deep respect Brandenburg holds for these creatures of the wild.
A familiar scene to me, autumn leaves photographed in the Big Woods of Minnesota, within 20 miles of my home and showcased in the Brandenburg Gallery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
And then there’s landscape photography which, when done well, draws you into a scene and evokes an emotional response. Again, Brandenburg has this seemingly effortless ability to capture the essence of a place and connect it to his audience.
Minnesota has lost an incredibly gifted photographer. But Brandenburg’s legacy lives on in his work, a gift to all of us. And one place to find that is in the Brandenburg Gallery in Luverne. On my beloved prairie. On Brandenburg’s beloved prairie.
FYI: The Brandenburg Gallery, 213 E. Luverne St., is owned and operated by the Luverne Area Chamber of Commerce. It’s open from 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Friday and from 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Saturday. Admission is free. All photos featured in this post were taken with permission of the Brandenburg Gallery in 2013.
TO LOSE A CHILD of any age is heartbreaking. But that is reality for Nyakueth Biel, a young mother rooted in my community. She is grieving the February 9 passing of her baby girl, two-month-old Naomi, in Brooklyn, New York.
Nyakueth’s daughter will be remembered during a funeral service at 12:30 p.m. Saturday, March 8, at my church, Trinity Lutheran in Faribault, before she is laid to rest at Maple Lawn Cemetery. No mother should have to bury her child, especially an infant.
I think of my own newborn grandson, who will soon turn two months old. And then I think of darling Naomi and her grieving mom, grandma, aunt and uncle. Pain runs deep.
Naomi’s obituary describes her as a very happy and healthy baby who was deeply loved and brought immense joy to those around her. And then she died. Unexpectedly. Within nine weeks of her December 10, 2024, birth.
We are reaching out to our community for support during this incredibly difficult time. Any contribution, no matter how small, will go toward covering funeral expenses and ensuring that Nyakueth has the support she needs as she navigates this heartbreaking loss. Your generosity will help ease her financial burden so she can focus on healing and honoring the memory of her precious daughter.
What wonderfully loving, supportive, heartfelt and heartbreaking words.
If you are able and so moved, I encourage you to contribute anything you can to help Nyakueth. The fundraising goal is $16,000. Click here to reach the GoFundMe page.
SHOWING COMFORT, LOVE, COMPASSION…
I personally comforted Naomi’s grandmother shortly after her granddaughter died. She was waiting for her daughter to arrive in Faribault from New York. I wrapped Nyayual in a tight hug, held her hands, prayed with her. And then I organized with friends to help the family financially. While our gift is small compared to Nyakueth’s needs, it helps. But more so than the money, it is the love, compassion, care and support that matters the most. We want Nyakueth and her family to feel the love of their faith family and many others.
As Nyakuan Daniel writes in her GoFundMe letter: Let us come together to support Nyakueth and show her that she is not alone in her grief. And that, my friends, is within our power to do.
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NOTE: If you prefer not to donate via GoFundMe but still wish to support Nyakueth with a financial gift, please reach out to me and perhaps I can help.I’m offering this option to those of you who know me personally and have my personal contact information.
My vintage single of Roberta Flack’s hit song, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2025)
WHEN ROBERTA FLACK SANG, her words flowed effortlessly. Soothing. Her voice like poetry singing words of love.
Flack died today (Monday) at age 88, news which pulled me back to the early 1970s and her Grammy award-winning singles, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” (1973) and “Killing Me Softly With His Song” (1974). I love those two hits of new love and of love exposed.
I filed through my vintage 45 rpm vinyls until I found Flack’s, then dropped the record onto the turntable to once again immerse myself in feelings of young love. I was in high school when Flack’s singles released and then became Billboard hits.
The songs are universal in theme, undeniably beautiful in delivery. At least that’s my perspective as a Baby Boomer who can’t read a single musical note, can’t carry a tune and knows she likes a song when she likes it.
The timing of Flack’s death during February, Black History Month, seems worth noting, too. She accomplished much as a Black woman. At the age of 15, Flack received a full scholarship to Howard University, a historically Black private college in Washington DC. She earned a bachelor’s in music in 1958, going on to teach music while also pursuing a singing career. Clearly, she accomplished her goals.
(Book cover sourced online)
In researching her background, I learned of a 2023 children’s picture book autobiography, The Green Piano: How Little Me Found Music, written by Flack and by Tonya Bolden with illustrations by Hayden Goodman. The title references a piano Flack’s father found in a junkyard, then refurbished and painted a grassy green. Flack was nine years old when she got that first piano. That it came from a junkyard reminds me of the bicycles my maternal grandfather pulled from the junkyard, repaired, painted and gifted to me and my siblings. I was just as thrilled to have my own bike as Flack was to have her own piano.
Flack’s backstory of growing up in a family that valued music and recognized her talent is a love story, too. If only every child would be loved so deeply and encouraged to follow his/her dreams, what a beautiful world this could be.
TELL ME: Whose music do you appreciate and why? And if you remember Roberta Flack, I’d like to hear your thoughts on her and her work.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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