Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A mother’s love on a daughter’s birthday February 10, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:47 AM
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HOW CAN IT BE that I already have a daughter who’s 25? Where did the days, weeks, months, years go?

It seems like only yesterday when I welcomed my sweet baby girl and discovered the depth of love I held in my heart for this child of mine. Yesterday was February 10, 1986.

It really is true that, until you become a mother (fill in “father” here if you’re male), you cannot comprehend such love. There is much to be said for experiencing parenthood. I don’t think you can ever define the personal shift to parenting in words.

Thinking back on my first pregnancy and then my daughter’s birth, I remember, especially, how much my mother-in-law wanted a granddaughter. She had already been blessed with one granddaughter and then four grandsons in a row. Betty figured it was time for another girl.

She got her granddaughter and then another and another and another and another and another. If you’re counting, that’s six granddaughters in a row.

As for my husband and me, we honestly did not care whether we had a boy or a girl, as long as the baby was healthy. But, my gut instinct told me my unborn child was a girl. I was right, of course, as I was in guessing the gender of my other two children, although I didn’t have the boy figured out until my husband and I were en route to the hospital.

By the time my son was born, one day short of eight years after my eldest, my mother-in-law wanted a grandson. She got her wish, but never lived to see my baby boy. She died, at age 59, of a heart attack nearly four months before his birth.

Every year on the February birthdays of my oldest and my youngest, I think of their Grandma Helbling and how she got her wishes. I got mine too—three beautiful, healthy, wonderful children (the third was born in November 1987) who have given me love and joy beyond measure, and, yes, the occasional stress and maybe even some of my gray hair.

I love my trio with a mother’s love that cannot be defined in words, but can only be felt by the heart.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, oldest daughter of mine!

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts on my son’s birthday February 9, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:31 AM
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At our house we typically don't have birthday cakes. Rather, the birthday celebrant chooses the dessert of his/her choice, and often that's cheesecake like this one my eldest made for my September birthday. Today I'm making a chocolate chip cheesecake for my son's 17th birthday.

MY SON TURNS 17 today, a day before my eldest turns 25. It wasn’t planned that way—to have their birthdays one day shy of eight years apart. But it happened and the two have never complained about the closeness of their birthdays.

For those of you who don’t know my family, there’s another daughter in between, my 23-year-old, who is 21 months younger than her older sister.

I know, I know, I’m tossing a lot of numbers out there for someone who prefers words to numbers and sucks at math.

But here are some more figures as long as I’m spewing them out. Even though my boy was born 10 days early, he weighed 10 pounds, 12 ounces, and stretched to 23 ½ inches. Yikes, you’re thinking. Not to worry. Like his sisters before him, he was born by Cesarean section due to the fact that the eldest was frank breech, requiring an emergency, vertical-incision C-section.

She weighed 9 pounds, 7 ounces. Her sister came in at 8 pounds, one ounce.

Yes, I have big babies.

My son was so big, in fact, that the hospital’s newborn diapers didn’t fit him. I also had to return a package of newbie diapers that a friend had given me before my over-sized baby boy was born.

You would never guess looking at my lanky 17-year-old today that he was once a roly-poly baby. He’s tall and lean now, tall and lean.

I’m wondering, if you’re a mom, do you reflect on your child’s birth every year on his/her birthday like I do? I remember that first kiss I planted on my son’s soft, warm head right after his birth. He was then whisked away while the surgeon tidied up after my C-section and followed with hernia surgery.

That first week after my boy’s  February 9, 1994, birth is mostly a painful blur as I suffered spinal headaches so severe I couldn’t sit up, let alone care for my newborn. Instead, the obstetrical floor nurses mothered him, coddled him, loved him. They even carried my baby boy into the break room, which would be a definite no-no today. I’ll always be grateful for their care.

I am thinking all of these thoughts today, a day when I’ll hold my teen a little closer, a little tighter—if he’ll allow it—and embrace him with a mother’s birthday hug.

Happy birthday, son. I love you now and forever. (I know you don’t read my blog, but I’m telling you anyway, just in case you read this someday.)

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Kletscher family legacy of public service February 4, 2011

WE’RE NOT EXACTLY the Kennedys. But the Kletscher family, my family, has a long history of political, church and community involvement.

My uncle, Merlin Kletscher, writes in the family history booklet he compiled:

“Many of us (in this older generation) have, like our forefathers, been active in our community. We have served our country in the military, on church councils, city councils, township boards, ambulance squads, fire departments, and school boards. We’ve served on Legion auxiliaries, vocational school cooperatives, electric power cooperatives and grain elevator board cooperatives. Fire chiefs, mayors and county commissioners are among our family—and it makes me proud. The list for our family could go on and on. The point here is that our families have seen the need, as our forefathers did, to serve others to make someone else’s life a better life.”

For the Kletschers, that service to others traces back to my great grandfather, Rudolph Kletscher, a German immigrant. In 1890, he started a mission church at his home near Vesta in southwestern Minnesota. The families who met in his farmhouse would eventually organize St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, where I worshipped as a child and which my mother and many other relatives still attend today.

I never knew my great grandfather, who died three decades before I was born. But his legacy of community involvement continued when his son Henry, my grandfather, served for many years on the Vesta School Board. When I was attending Vesta Elementary School, I would walk by a plaque just inside the front door engraved with my grandpa’s name. I suppose, subconsciously, that made an impression upon me.

My Uncle Merlin, the family historian, like his father before him, became involved in education by serving on two school boards. His community involvement is too long to list. But suffice to say that Rudolph Kletscher would be impressed with his grandson.

He would also be proud of my Uncle Harold, who held public office for more than 30 years in Vesta. Two of Harold’s sons likewise were elected to office.

In my immediate family, my dad, Elvern, fought on the front lines in the Korean Conflict and was active locally in church and Legion organizations and probably other groups of which I am unaware. He once unsuccessfully ran for Redwood County commissioner.

One of my brothers served several terms as a county commissioner. My older brother was the Westbrook fire chief for many years and his son is currently a volunteer fireman.

My eldest daughter holds a political science degree and today works in the State Capitol complex.

Like my Uncle Merlin, I am proud to be part of a family that gives back via public service.

MY COUSIN JEFF KLETSCHER, who is current president of the Minnesota Association of Small Cities and who served on the Floodwood City Council for 10 years before being elected mayor in 2003—he’s in his fifth mayoral term—was a DFL candidate for the House District 5B seat in northeastern Minnesota.

Jeff finished fourth among five DFLers in Tuesday’s special primary election. It was hard, he says, to be from a small community (Floodwood, population 503) with two big communities (Chisholm, population 4,960, and Hibbing, population 17,071) in the district.

DFL-endorsed candidate and Iron Range attorney Carly Melin easily won the primary with 50 percent of the votes. The 25-year-old is from Hibbing.

I’m not going to pretend that I am informed about northeastern Minnesota politics or the DFL candidates (other than my cousin) who vied for the office vacated by Tony Sertich, the newly-appointed commissioner for the Iron Range Resources and Rehabilitation Board.

But I can tell you that Jeff, like his great grandfather, grandfather and father (my Uncle Harold) before him, is living a legacy of service. He cares about rural and small-town Minnesota. Jeff’s length of public service (nearly 20 years) speaks volumes to me about his dedication to making life better for Minnesotans.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Too cold to walk to school January 22, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:21 AM
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Minnesota Highway 30 in southwestern Minnesota, photographed last winter.

MY SON STAYED HOME from school yesterday. He refused to walk the eight or so blocks to Faribault High School.

I didn’t push the issue. The temperature outside was a bone-chilling, brutal, bitter 25 degrees below zero. Factor in the windchill and the air felt even colder.

I suggested he call a friend for a ride because our car, which has been causing us some problems lately, wouldn’t start—again. And my husband was long gone to work in Northfield with the van.

But my 16-year-old, who isn’t exactly a social butterfly, didn’t know who to call.

So I called the school, explained the situation and he got an excused absence. My son excels academically, so I wasn’t too worried about him missing a day of classes.

I wondered, only briefly, if I qualified as a bad parent by allowing my boy to skip school. But that was simply a fleeting thought as I considered whether I would walk eight blocks in such frigid temperatures. I wouldn’t.

Curious as to exactly how low air temperatures and windchills plunged in southern and central Minnesota from Thursday into Friday morning, I logged onto the National Weather Service Chanhassen office.

Morris, on the wind-swept prairie, recorded the lowest windchill reading, minus 46 degrees at 4 a.m. (I would later learn that International Falls in northern Minnesota recorded an air temperature of 46 degrees below zero.)

Redwood Falls, which lies 20 miles east of my hometown of Vesta, had a minimum windchill reading of minus 39 degrees at 6 a.m. The low temperature was 24 degrees below zero.

Over in Waseca, where two of my sisters and their families live, conditions were a tad warmer with a low windchill of minus 36 degrees at 3 a.m.

Here in Faribault, we had a minus 33 degree windchill reading at 12 a.m. Our lowest temp registered at 29 degrees below zero.

While windchills and air temps vary from one part of Minnesota to the other, the results are the same—it’s simply too darned cold to walk eight blocks to school, or anywhere.

CLICK HERE for a listing of National Weather Service Chanhassen office windchill and temperature readings for central and southern Minnesota.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The winters of my childhood January 20, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:56 AM
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REMEMBER THE WINTERS of fun?

You could hardly wait to rush out the door and slog through freshly-fallen snow, plowing furrows for a game of fox-and-goose.

You could barely wait for Dad to push bucketsful of snow from the farmyard with his tractor and loader into mountains suitable for scaling.

 

Three of my younger siblings and I pose atop a snow mountain our dad created in our southwestern Minnesota farmyard in this photo dated February 1967.

You excitedly dug into the sides of snowdrifts, hard as bedrock, to carve out snow caves.

You raced across the tops of those snowdrifts, up and down and all around the world of white.

 

Our southwestern Minnesota farmyard is buried in snowdrifts in this March 1965 image. My mom is holding my youngest sister as she stands by the car parked next to the house. My other sister and two brothers and I race down the snowdrifts.

You packed snow into hard balls, aiming for siblings, wiggling and screaming at the brother who grabbed your collar and stuffed ice-cold snow down the back of your neck.

And when the snow was the perfect consistency, you rolled and packed it into big balls, shoving and grunting and straining, working together with classmates or siblings to build a snowman or a snow fort.

Such were the winters of my childhood on a southwestern Minnesota farm. Fierce. Brutal. But, mostly, fun.

Today, living through one of our snowiest winters in forever, I am reminded of those childhood winters. I would be wise to remember the fun I once experienced on the cold, snowy, wind-swept Minnesota prairie.

 

This huge, hard-as-rock snowdrift blocked our farm driveway in this March 1965 photo. My uncle drove over from his nearby farm to help open the drive so the milk truck could reach the milkhouse. That's my mom and five of us kids atop the drift.

WHAT ARE YOUR MEMORIES of childhood winters?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

What was I thinking when I almost said… January 6, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:00 AM
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I NEARLY MESSED UP as a parent Wednesday morning.

“We had a pizza party in Mrs. Brown’s class yesterday,” my 16-year-old said as he pulled his backpack onto his shoulders.

“For what?” I asked.

“We won Toys for Tots,” he replied, explaining that his fourth hour prime time and trigonometry/pre-calculus class collected the most money to purchase Christmas gifts for needy children and was rewarded with pizza.

“Did you take anything?” I questioned, doubting that he participated since he hadn’t asked me for money.

“Fifteen dollars.”

That’s when I nearly said—but caught myself just in time—that $15 was “too much” to donate given my son isn’t currently working.

But, at the precise moment the “too much” phrase nearly tumbled out of my mouth, I realized the stupidity of what I was about to say.

Instead I praised his gift. “That was very generous. I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, wrapped me in a tight hug and walked out the door.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Back to school for tired teens January 3, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:25 AM
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JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT the celebrating had ended, along comes today, Festival of Sleep Day.

I don’t know about you, but I could sure use some extra sleep. I never get enough. I blame that on aging and the necessity to get up nightly to pee, which disrupts my sleep.

But I don’t want to make me and my sleep issues the focus of this post. Rather, I want to highlight the topic of teens and sleep.

I made some interesting observations during the holiday break, when my 16-year-old son didn’t have to get up early and out the door to school. He was pleasant, actually pleasant. No crabbiness, for the most part. No disagreeable personality, for the most part. And, he willingly assisted with household tasks without resistance and complaining.

I liked, really, really liked, the teen who has lived here for the past 10 days or so. (That’s not to say I don’t like/love my boy. I do. But those of you who are parents of teens will understand exactly what I mean.)

So when this morning arrived and my son had to roll out of bed for his first day back at classes, I wondered which boy would greet me. It was the tired, I’m-not-happy-to-be-awake-this-early son. No surprise there given my high school junior stayed up late last night doing homework, although he said, “Not that late, mother.” I know what that means.

Let’s just say that he left his homework until Sunday, despite my strong, very strong, suggestion that he work on it earlier in the week. I’m going to derail again here and ask, “Why do teachers assign homework over holiday break?” Honestly, are they working on work when they’re on vacation? Maybe. My guess would be most likely not.

ANYWAY, BACK TO THAT SLEEP TOPIC. To my son’s credit, he slept in only until 10 every morning of break except for the first day and the last two days. Typically, he would slumber as late as he wished, which would be until about noon. But this time, this vacation, he set his alarm for 10 each morning and I give him credit for that self-discipline.

His dad and I have, for a long time, encouraged him not to sleep in so late, especially on weekends, because that just throws off his whole sleep cycle. He never understood that, up until now.

Based on my teen’s mood and sleep pattern, I’m convinced that, for him at least, starting school at about 9/9:30 a.m. would be a better physical and psychological fit. I’ve read and heard repeatedly that teens would do better with that later school day start. I can’t cite those sources right off the top of my head, but if you research the topic, you’ll find the studies to back up that statement. (Or just come and live at my house for awhile.)

I’m not holding my breath waiting for a change in high school start times locally. I don’t think that will happen, and certainly not in the next 1 ½ years, when my 16-year-old would benefit.

Once my son is off to college, I expect he won’t take too many 8 a.m. classes. But that’s OK. Then he can adjust his schedule to his natural sleep patterns and needs. Even without the teenage factor, he’s more of a night person, than a morning person.

That brings me full circle back to today and the Festival of Sleep Day celebration. I have no idea where this fest originated and had not heard of it until yesterday. But I think I’ll celebrate this afternoon by, maybe, taking a little nap.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Santa needs a technology lesson January 1, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:02 AM
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EVEN SANTA makes mistakes.

The proof lies in this classified ad published this week in the Bargain Hunters section of The Faribault Daily News:

Brand new got for Christmas never used PS3 Tony Hawk Ride. Santa made mistake boy has PS2. $50.00 507-XXX-XXXX.

Santa, I totally get it.

With the ever-changing technology out there, keeping on top of everything becomes a challenge. I gave up long ago.

I wouldn’t know a PlayStation if it walked through the door. True.

So I googled “Tony Hawk Ride,” because I had no clue, and discovered this is a game about skateboarding. Apparently it works only on a PS3, which differs in what way from a PS2 or a PS? How many PlayStations exist anyway and how is a parent supposed to keep this all straight?

By asking the kids, of course. My 16-year-old son has a laptop computer and a Nintendo DS. No PS. No Wii. No Xbox.

He’s asked for them, but I’ve never caved in to the “gotta have it because everyone else has it” mantra. I don’t even apologize. I just say “no.”

Even so, I struggled this year with his request for two computer games and a JavaScript Patterns (what is JavaScript Patterns?) book. I purchased all three from amazon.com, but only after my son went online and showed me exactly what to order.

Yes, this takes the element of surprise out of Christmas giving. But, at least I don’t have to run a classified ad stating that “Santa made a mistake.”

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Memorable 2010 Christmas gifts December 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:50 AM
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WHAT DID YOU GET for Christmas? Anything interesting, fun, different?

This wind-up NunZilla walked and shot fiery sparks from her mouth. Sadly, the toy worked only briefly.

The gift our second eldest gave to her father ranks as the most entertaining and unusual of all the presents exchanged in our household.

Having heard her dad’s stories about attending a Catholic grade school, our daughter picked up a NunZilla at Vagabond Imports in Appleton, Wisconsin.

The sparking, walking, ruler-toting wind-up toy nun proved to be the perfect humorous gift for a man who endured the physical punishment of a sister or two during his childhood. He’s never explained why the nuns slapped his hands with a ruler or dug a thumb into his scalp. Apparently they thought he was misbehaving. He can laugh about it now, kind of.

I don’t condone corporal punishment. However, times were different back in the 1960s and teachers, unfortunately, got away with such physical abuse. Sad, but true. I can’t speak from first-hand experience (because I did not grow up Catholic), but I would like to believe that the ruler-slapping nuns were in the minority and that most were kind and caring.

Another Christmas gift also drew my attention, or should I say my husband’s attention. As he washed the eight new dinner plates that our eldest gave me, he noticed that the “IKEA of Sweden” plates were “made in China.” No need to say more on that one.

FYI, the wind-up NunZilla was also made in China.

Finally, the ghost of Annie Mary Twente, a 6-year-old girl who was buried alive near Hanska, Minnesota, in 1886, remembered me with a Christmas gift. For the second consecutive year, she (AKA my cousin Dawn and Aunt Marilyn) sent me a book about mice. She knows how much I detest rodents and takes great delight in taunting me.

The book was not—I don’t think—printed in China.

The imprint on the bottom on my new IKEA plates.

But the other part of Annie Mary’s gift, a combination calendar and notepad decorated with chickens (of which I am not fond), was manufactured in China.

HOW ABOUT YOU? Did you receive any memorable Christmas gifts? Humorous or otherwise? Submit a comment to Minnesota Prairie Roots. I’d love to hear your stories.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Discovering the beauty of winter in Minnesota December 28, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:41 AM
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WHEN I LOOKED through the patio doors of my middle brother’s rural Redwood County home on Christmas morning, I saw this picture-perfect postcard scene.

 

A farm place near Lamberton on Christmas Day morning.

The quaint farm place sits along Redwood County Road 6 near Lamberton, just north of the county park I call the “gypsy park” because my paternal grandma told me gypsies once camped there.

From the park, the farm site lies only a short distance from an electrical substation which, during my growing up years, my siblings and I dubbed “the chicken pox factory.” It was a name we gave to all such substations, I suspect around the time chicken pox plagued the area. Ironically, the brother who now lives near the chicken pox factory never had the disease.

But I am getting sidetracked here. I wanted to share this photo with you for several reasons. First, this winter in Minnesota is quickly becoming long and wearisome with all of the snow we’ve gotten recently.

That’s why it’s more important than ever to search for the positive (which I have not been too good at lately) in winter. For me, that means viewing the landscape as a photo opportunity. Photography forces you to really see, not simply look at, the details in your environment.

While composing this image, I noticed the contrast of the red buildings against the pristine white snow, the defined fencelines, the old farmhouse that surely has many stories to tell, the slight rise of the land, the shelter belt of trees protecting the farm from the fierce prairie winds. With a gentle snow falling, the scene possessed a dreamy, peaceful, surreal quality.

So, yes, when you make a conscious effort, you truly will find beauty in this winter of overwhelming snow.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling