Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Troll tales November 23, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:03 AM
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Norway native Steinar Karlsen carved this troll at the 25th annual 2002 Scandinavian Hjemkomst Festival in Moorhead.

EVER SINCE I WAS a little girl, trolls have held a special fascination for me.

That curiosity and, yes, even a tinge of fear, relate to the storybook, The Three Billy Goats Gruff. In that Norwegian folk tale, three different-sized goats attempt to cross a bridge under which lurks a hungry troll. The smallest goat tricks the troll into waiting for the middle-sized goat which tricks the troll into waiting for the biggest goat which then bucks the troll into the river.

Can you understand how this might both frighten and empower?

This bridge, near Hammond in southeastern Minnesota, is similar in style to the Minnesota River “troll bridge” of my youth. The “troll bridge” along Minnesota Highway 19 near Morton was replaced by a more modern bridge. But the old one, last I traveled that section of roadway, still stands nearby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo, 2010.)

I always thought of this goat-trolling troll whenever my father steered the family car across the Minnesota River bridge near Morton on our annual trip to “the Cities” to visit relatives. My anxiety level rose ever so slightly as the car curved down Minnesota Highway 19 toward the bridge.

In the back seat, my four siblings and I (the youngest sat up front) and grandpa, packed shoulder to shoulder, curled our fingers into clenched fists, prepared to take on that troll—by pounding with determined ferocity on the interior roof of the car.

My other childhood troll encounter occurred when I turned nine and celebrated my one and only birthday party ever with classmates. One friend gifted me with a wild, pink-haired troll which stood a mere inch or so tall. She, the troll, not the friend, was also a piece of jewelry with a pin attached.

I treasured that troll, still do, because trolls were popular then and I had none. Suddenly, I was just like my classmates; I owned a troll, albeit a teeny one.

A side shot of the two trolls carved by Steinar Karlsen and displayed at the Hjemkomst Center. Since 1990, this artist has created 400-plus life-sized human sculptures and hundreds of animals, birds and sea life.

Imagine how thrilled I was decades later when my girls were preschool and early elementary ages and trolls were back in vogue. I bought them doll-sized trolls to cuddle and families of mini trolls. The bright-haired ogres lined the window in their toy room, their mops of hair bleaching in the morning sun.

Trolls evoke such a mix of memories for me. How about you?

BONUS PHOTOS, just because I have no other category into which to slot these two Hjemkomst Center images, but wanted to share them:

A beautiful and historic mosaic graces a wall in the entry to the Hjemkomst Center.

Next to that troll bench carved by Steinar Karlsen are these flags hung from the balcony railing overlooking an atrium. I couldn’t find any info as to the reason these specific flags are there.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thanksgiving Eve goodness November 22, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:50 AM
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FIFTY MILES FROM FARGO, he called his dad. His words were garbled, cutting in and out.

So he hung up, dialed my cell. “Give me Dad,” he snarled.

I waited, listening to one side of a conversation that did not sound good.

After my husband clicked off my phone, he told me that Julie’s car had broken down near Fergus Falls. Our son’s friend had managed to steer the smoking vehicle off Interstate 94 at eastbound exit 50. There they sat, four North Dakota State University college students stranded along the interstate on Thanksgiving Eve with nearly 250 miles to go.

Interstate 94 sometimes seems to run right into the sky as you drive west toward Fargo. (File photo)

What to do? We offered to drive the four hours north and west to Fergus Falls. But Caleb told us to wait, that they were trying to figure things out, to find a tow truck and perhaps hitch a ride from another friend back home to Faribault.

At one point, in several exchanged phone calls, my son ordered, “Stop freaking out, Mom.”

Alright then.

I asked Caleb to keep me posted. And eventually they worked it out, securing a tow and ride, walking from the mechanic’s shop a short distance to a nearby convenience store, waiting for the friend to arrive from Fargo. By 9 p.m., they were back on the interstate, 2 ½ hours after that initial SOS to my automotive machinist husband who was trying to long-distance diagnose problems with an aged Honda.

Shortly after our son and three others left Fergus, Julie’s dad phoned saying her car had already been repaired. (Phil didn’t know the specific diagnosis.) Julie had insisted on staying with her vehicle, sending the others on their way home.

My husband doubted anyone would repair the Honda on Thanksgiving Eve, or anytime prior to Friday. He was, obviously, wrong.

So we waited, me reading, my husband nodding off as the television blared and the minutes crept into hours, past midnight and then 1 a.m.

Shortly after 1 a.m., our son arrived home and we embraced in fierce, tight hugs. I was so relieved to have my boy home early Thanksgiving morning.

But there is more to tell, for this is also a story of thankfulness.

Thank you to the good people, the many strangers, who stopped to check on the stranded travelers at eastbound exit 50 by Fergus Falls. There were many, our son said.

Thank you to the mechanic who repaired Julie’s car on Thanksgiving Eve.

And thank you to the young woman who was willing to drive three other college students 250 miles home.

On this Thanksgiving Day, I am a grateful mother.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Four reasons to be thankful November 21, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:01 AM
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FOUR. It’s a four-letter word. One. Two. Three. Four.

Today I present to you four good reasons why I am thankful.

My husband, Randy, left to right, daughter Miranda, son Caleb, daughter Amber and me in a photo taken after Caleb’s high school graduation in June. The photographer is Marc, Amber’s boyfriend, another blessing in our family this year.

FAMILY: Hands down, family is among the most treasured of my blessings. I have a husband who loves and supports me (in more ways than one) and always, always encourages me. My three children (now all officially adults) are also loving and caring and just the best, and fill my mother’s heart to overflowing with love.

My extended family’s pretty great, too. I credit my mom, who turned 80 this year (so thankful to still have her in my life), for passing along her faith and compassion to me.

FRIENDS: For years, a group of us have met for bible study twice a month in each others’ homes. We’ve shared laughter and tears, given each other support and hope and prayed for one another and for those we know and love. Comforting peace comes from being held in the circle of such deep and caring friendship.

I have been blessed with many more friends, beyond this close group, who have woven their way into my heart and life. And that includes many of you readers out there whom I’ve never met.

A photo of Christ’s face from a stained glass window in my church, Trinity Lutheran, Faribault.

FAITH: Short and simple, my faith in God sustains me and gives me hope and joy.

A screen shot of the Tuesday, June 12, 2012, Freshly Pressed on the WordPress homepage. My post is featured in the bottom center. I’ve been Freshly Pressed twice since I began blogging, meaning my posts were chosen, for a single day, as among the top 10 WordPress posts in the world.

FANS: Perhaps “fans” is not the correct word for you, my readers. But since I’m going with “f” words here, I chose “fans.”

Because of you, I am encouraged daily to continue blogging, to share via words and photos the discoveries I make and my thoughts on life. You pushed my total monthly views to an all-time high of 28,467 in October and to a current average daily view of 940. I expect to surpass more than one-quarter of a million total views for 2012, more than 250,000 views in just this single year.

Amazing.

Thank you.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Twenty-five years ago this beautiful daughter came into my life November 16, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:15 AM
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Miranda, almost two, eating chocolate cake.

MY SECOND BORN of three, Miranda, turns 25 today.

What does a mother write about her girl that truly encompasses all her daughter has become as a young woman?

Miranda celebrates the Argentine World Cup soccer victory at Plaza de la Republica in Buenos Aires. The balloon is soccer legend Diego Maradona, at that time the coach of Argentina’s national team. She’s lived in Buenos Aires twice.

I will tell you that my dear daughter is kind and compassionate, adventuresome and fearless (except for spiders), a woman of faith, soft-spoken, yet there to speak for those whose voices need to be heard.

She works as a Spanish medical interpreter and has a heart for helping non-English speaking Hispanics in northeastern Wisconsin. It is an important job. Her ability to interpret under time and emotional pressures impresses me. She cares. Deeply.

Yet, it is that very profession which keeps my girl away from Minnesota. Because she is on call so often, including many nights, weekends and holidays, she is able to make the 5 ½-hour trip back home only several times a year. Likewise, those hours limit times my husband and I can visit our daughter.

Time with her is precious. Just like our daughter. Precious.

A photo of Miranda when she was back in Minnesota in June for her brother’s high school graduation.

Happy birthday, Miranda/Tib! We love you now and forever and miss you and if you were here, I would bake you a chocolate cake.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Veterans’ Day: Grief in a shoebox November 11, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:22 AM
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IT IS BUT A SINGLE SLIP of paper, creased and yellowing with age. Yet, it is so much more. The words typed thereon, 59 years ago, hold heartache and honor and memories of my soldier father and his buddy.

My father shipped home from Korea into the welcoming arms of family.

Cpl. Ray W. Scheibe shipped home from Korea in a box, to a grieving family.

The third section of the memorial service bulletin my soldier dad carried home from Korea.

It’s all there, on that piece of paper, a memorial service bulletin dated July 31, 1953, Sucham-dong, Korea. My father folded that paper into quarters, carried it across the ocean and across the country and back home to southwestern Minnesota and then tucked his grief inside a shoebox.

A story about Cpl. Ray W. Scheibe, published in the July 23, 1953, issue of  his hometown newspaper, The Wolbach Messenger, Wolbach, Nebraska.

Cpl. Ray William Scheibe lost his life in Korea June 2, 1953, when he was hit by a round of mortar fire, according to information received from a buddy. He was a member of an infantry unit and was on patrol duty at the time of his death.—from The Wolbach Messenger, Thursday, July 23, 1953.

Sgt. Elvern Kletscher, my father, witnessed the horrific death of Ray, who was due to ship out the next day. Back in tiny Wolbach, Nebraska, Ray’s wife, Marilyn, and their 3-month-old daughter, Terri Rae, waited.

The memorial service bulletin lists the names of those soldiers who died, including Ray Scheibe.

Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13—scripture quoted in the memorial service folder dated July 31, 1953, Sucham-dong, Korea.

An in-ground marker honors my father, Elvern Kletscher, a Korean War veteran and recipient of the Purple Heart for wounds he suffered at Heartbreak Ridge in Korea. My father did not receive his Purple Heart until 2000.

This Veterans’ Day let us remember, always, those who have served and are serving.

My father, Elvern Kletscher, left, with two of his soldier buddies in Korea.

The cover of the 1953 memorial service folder from Korea.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Halloween greetings from Annie Mary Twente October 31, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:28 PM
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I always wonder, what did Annie Mary look like? Anything like this little girl?

THE CARD ARRIVED, not unexpectedly, today in my mailbox as one has every Halloween for the past I can’t recall how many years.

In slanted and uneven letters, my name and address are printed across the plain white envelope, the return address a simple “A.M. 56292, MN.”

Inside I find a Halloween card, this time with a wish that we could be together, Annie Mary and I.

Then my eyes fall upon the familiar message Annie prints every year, always in capital letters: I MISS YOU! ANNIE MARY

Sometimes she adds “LOVE” to her signature note.

Chills run up and down my spine.

And then I laugh at the fun of it all, at the card A.M., aka Aunt Marilyn, sends every Halloween because she knows how very much I dislike the story of Annie Mary Twente.

As legend goes, 6-year-old Annie Mary fell into a coma and was buried alive in 1886 in Albin Township near Hanska in southern Minnesota. Later, Annie’s father had his daughter’s body exhumed only to find claw marks on the inside of her coffin.

It is a sad and unsettling, and supposedly true, story. Many years ago I made the mistake of telling Aunt Marilyn, who lives in my hometown with a 56292 zip code, that the horrifying tale upset me.

Every Halloween (and sometimes on Christmas and Valentine’s Day, too) she remembers…

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Making horseradish, a family tradition October 24, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:58 AM
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MY DAD WOULD HAVE loved it.

On Saturday, my husband and I gathered with extended family in a garage just north of Lamberton in rural southwestern Minnesota for the annual making of horseradish, a tradition started by my horseradish loving father many years ago.

Freshly dug horseradish, soaking in water and ready to be washed.

Back in the day, my dad and bachelor uncle, Mike, would occasionally make horseradish. Eventually my sister Lanae (and later her husband, Dale, too) began assisting Dad with the digging and washing and peeling and slicing and processing of this pungent root. And then, when the creamy white sauce was bottled, Dad would haul it down to the Vesta Community Hall for the annual Senior Citizens’ craft/bake/produce sale. Folks would wait in line to snap up Vern’s homemade horseradish.

The 2012 horseradish making crew, front row, left to right, Randy, Tara, Lanae and Arlene. Back row: Andy, Brian and Vicki. I’m obviously missing from the photo as are Al and Alyssa, who arrived later.

Dad has been gone for nearly 10 years now, his annual root rite resurrected in recent years by Lanae and my middle brother, Brian. For the first time I joined them and other family in making horseradish, and, although I will eat horseradish, I am not a fanatical fan like my siblings and our father before us.

Peeling the horseradish, the third step after digging and washing.

But it wasn’t the horseradish which drew Randy and me to drive more than two hours to Brian and Vicki’s rural acreage to stand at tables in a garage on a chilly Saturday to process horseradish that would soon overwhelm us with eye-stinging fumes.

It was family and tradition and memory-building and time together which brought us to this peaceful place, to this land where I grew up some 25 miles to the north and west. Any reason to return to my beloved prairie.

My mother, the main supervisor, watches from her chair. Vicki, who is recovering from surgery, also supervised.

And so Randy and I were instructed in the art of horseradish making while my 80-year-old mother supervised from a comfy chair, occasionally rising to skirt the tables, to check the progress.

We listened to the tales of horseradish making past, when metal shavings from the old meat grinder flaked into the horseradish. We heard of Dad’s old drill shorting and shocking whoever was using the drill (which he had rigged to drive the meat grinder) to pulverize the roots.

First the food grinder was used…

And when the food grinder continually plugged, the food processor was put into action and this worked.

The old meat grinder and drill have been stashed away now, replaced first by a modern electric grinder (which failed to work as planned) and then by a food processor before the pulverized roots were mixed with vinegar in a blender.

Proof that honeymooners Al and Alyssa helped make horseradish.

As words and horseradish peelings flew and laughter bounced around the garage, it was sometimes difficult to separate fact from fiction, especially when the beer was cracked open upon the arrival of honeymooners Al and Alyssa. Al and his bride of one week, on their way home from Duluth to Tyler, pitched in. And I photographed them so some day their children will believe their parents made horseradish on their honeymoon.

My mom, the supervisor, counts jars. We filled 66, a smaller yield than normal. Horseradish not kept by family is given away (never sold) as our Dad, except for those he sold at the fundraiser, gave his away. We honor him by gifting horseradish lovers with a jar.

The supervisor counts the jars of horseradish.

These are the moments that matter most in life, the sweet times with family. And nothing touched my heart more than watching my aging mom, the supervisor, rise from her chair to meticulously count and record the yield.

AND FOR THOSE OF YOU unfamiliar with the entire process, here are additional photos to show you the steps needed to grow and make horseradish:

STEP 1:

Plant the horseradish, which grows from the left-over scraps of roots, etc.

STEP 2:

The plants will need to grow for about three years before you can reap the first harvest. We will be looking for additional horseradish to harvest in 2013. If you live anywhere near Lamberton, Vesta,  Faribault or Waseca, and have extra horseradish, let me know.

STEP 3: Dig up the roots; I missed photographing this given I arrived after the digging.

STEP 4:

Wash the dirt from the roots using a hose.

STEP 5:

Peel the roots, remaining aware that your work is being closely monitored by the supervisor, right.

STEP 6:

Dump the horseradish into a laundry bag and wash in the washing machine, without detergent, of course, and I think on a gentle cycle. About this time, your crew can take a break and eat lunch which may or may not include red Jell-O with bananas.

STEP 7:

Chop the machine-washed horseradish.

STEP 8:

While one crew chops ,left, the other grinds the horseradish, step 8, with a grinder (fail) or food processor. The supervisor keeps a watchful eye over operations.

STEP 9:

Dump the pulverized roots into the blender, add vinegar and blend until creamy. You may want to cover your face, or make a face, to deal with the eye-stinging fumes.

STEP 10:

Pour into jars and cap.

STEP 11:

Label the jars. Stash jars in refrigerator. Give away or eat.

BONUS PHOTO:

Al and Alyssa’s dog, Lily, whom we had to keep from eating errant chunks of horseradish that fell onto the floor.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Old Fifty-six: A beer & a birthday September 26, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:09 AM
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My second birthday and the clown cake my mom made for me.

WHEN MY HUSBAND ASKED what I was working on for blog posts, I answered, “I suppose I should write about my birthday.”

It wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic response because I’m not all that enthusiastic about turning 56 today. That number puts me closer to 60 than 50 and I favor a five in front of a zero rather than a six.

Now that I’ve exposed that bit of birthday melancholy, let’s focus on the positive.

A birthday truly is pause for celebration and thankfulness.

I am thankful for a family that loves me; a husband who supports me in my writing; friends who care and pray for me and who even think I’m sometimes funny; readers and editors who value my writing and photography; a house that’s paid for; my heavenly Father who loves and forgives and provides for me…

As for that celebrating part…I had this novel idea for a pre-birthday dinner we hosted on Sunday. I wanted to have some Old 56 beer on hand. I thought that would be cool (yes an outdated word, but, hey, I was a 70s teen), offering a memorable beverage for someone born in 1956 and turning 56.

Besides that, Old 56 is produced by my favorite craft brewery, Brau Brothers Brewing Company in tiny Lucan, five miles from the southwestern Minnesota farm where I grew up. I hear, though, that the brewery is relocating to Marshall 15 miles to the west, which saddens me. That is another story.

Do you think, though, that my husband could find any Old 56 locally, at least in the two liquor stores he had time to shop? No. So there was no Old 56 crisp light lager named after the fire engine the city of Lucan purchased in 1956.

Instead, we drank Schells.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A sweet homecoming September 25, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:57 AM
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ABSENCE REALLY DOES make the heart grow fonder.

And for this mom, five weeks proved that.

My 18-year-old son arrived home from North Dakota State University in Fargo on Friday around 11:15 p.m., four hours later than I expected him.

But it was worth the wait. Well worth the wait.

I hadn’t seen Caleb since my husband and I left him standing, rather forlorn looking, in his dorm room on a Saturday morning in mid-August.

Communication since then has been intermittent and mostly one-sided, the one side being my side. Send an email. No response. Text the son. No response. Such lack of communication was typical even when my teen was still living at home. I expected that to change once Caleb started college 285 miles/five hours away. I was wrong.

I also was wrong in thinking that meant he didn’t care, didn’t miss us.

Friday evening when I saw headlights flash into the driveway, I couldn’t slip on my shoes fast enough to race outside and see my boy for the first time in five weeks.

He didn’t quite run from his stash of stuff near the end of the driveway to me. But almost. And when my son, my boy, reached me, he grabbed me in a vise grip hug and didn’t let go. For a long time.

I cannot even begin to tell you how that hug melted my heart, reassured me as a mother that my boy, despite his lack of communication, missed me.

There’s my son, piling food onto his plate at a small family dinner we hosted on Sunday in celebration of Caleb’s homecoming; my eldest daughter’s boyfriend landing a job and moving from LA to Minnesota; and my September 26 birthday. Once he finished his Sunday dinner, my boy was on his way back to Fargo at 1 p.m. Sorry there’s no full view image of my boy as he certainly would have dodged any camera pointed toward his face. He knows me well enough to realize the photo would likely end up on this blog. I saw Caleb for maybe four hours total this weekend. When he wasn’t sleeping in, he was out with friends (including the three with whom he rode home from Fargo) or his dad and I were gone to a wedding and a barn dance. But that’s OK. At least he came home and that makes me a happy, happy mom. He is, by the way, quite well-adjusted, happy and enjoying his new life as a college student at NDSU.

And since I can’t show you pix of the son, here’s my sister, Lanae, and her son-in-law, Andy, dishing up Sunday dinner while my husband, Randy, prepares to slice chicken breasts in half. Randy grilled chicken and fresh baby potatoes.

My sister brought the Caesar salad and tossed in a few flowers for color. (She’s a florist.) And, yes, the flowers are edible, although I didn’t taste them.

Three left-over pieces of the delicious peanut butter and chocolate cheesecake baked by my oldest daughter, Amber, and her boyfriend, Marc. Cheesecake is my absolute favorite dessert.

Beautiful birthday flowers from my sister, the floral designer at Waseca Floral.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating 50 years of marriage at a Minnesota barn dance September 24, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:55 AM
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THIS IS LOVE, after 50 years:

A recent family photo of Arnie and Jeanne, rural Northfield, with their children and their spouses and their grandchildren.

A golden anniversary photo display of Jeanne and Arnie on their wedding day, October 10, 1962, and a more current photo on the left. And that’s their farm, near the Hazelwood church, in the upper left corner. Farming, faith and family have centered the couple’s life together for 50 years.

THIS IS A CELEBRATION of love after 50 years:

Family and friends celebrate Jeanne and Arnie’s 50 years of marriage at a good old-fashioned barn dance.

The kids served popcorn in the haymow dance/reception site.

The Revival Band played “Woolly Bully” by Sam the Sham & the Pharoahs and a guest (matador) swished a red shirt (cape) while others guests (bulls) charged. (This was a barn dance, emphasis on barn.)

Family and friends, some in cowboy hats, visited and danced, or just sat and observed the celebration.

The  rustic rural atmosphere and decor were perfect for the farm couple married 50 years.

THIS IS LOVE 50 years ago:

Jeanne’s wedding dress and shoes (to left of dress on shelf) and a bridesmaid’s teal dress with crown.

A napkin saved from Jeanne and Arnie’s wedding day on October 10, 1962.

THIS IS LOVE, yesterday and today.

A display in the old barn celebrating 50 years of marriage for Arnie and Jeanne.

The cake topper from Jeanne and Arnie’s wedding with golden anniversary wishes 50 years later.

I ATTENDED MY FIRST EVER barn dance a year ago in this very same barn. Jeanne and Arnie’s daughter, Debbie, and her husband, John, friends of my husband and me, hosted the dance. To view photos from that first dance, click here. And then click here to see more photos.

This year we didn’t arrive at the dance until after dark, so my photo opportunities were much more limited since I don’t shoot with flash. But the time for dancing was not.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling