Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Minnesota or Arkansas, heat or mosquitoes… August 11, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:47 AM
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WHEN MY UNCLE BOB proclaimed last week that he had just gotten his first mosquito bite in 15 years, I nearly flipped over in my lawn chair.

But I quickly rebounded. “Well, then,” I suggested, looking him squarely in the eye, “why don’t you take a whole van load back to Arkansas.”

He declined my offer while my Aunt Rae disputed his 15-year claim. Despite the differing opinions, I surmised that mosquitoes apparently aren’t all that common in northern Arkansas where my relatives retired to from Minneapolis 15 years ago.

But I’ve heard about the unbearable, muggy, oppressive heat down there, similar to what we’ve experienced in Minnesota this summer.

However, on the day my aunt and uncle visited my Faribault home last week, the weather was picture perfect after a string of unbearable, muggy, oppressive days. As we sat on the patio visiting, Bob remarked how nice it was to sit outside in the cool evening air.

I, too, was enjoying the respite from the heat and humidity, and from being cooped up inside in the air conditioning.

As dusk approached, my relatives announced that they should leave for their daughter’s Minneapolis home, their day’s final destination.

“Come down and visit us sometime,” Aunt Rae invited, as she does every time I see her and Uncle Bob.

I was non-committal. I’ve already had enough of the heat and humidity, I thought to myself. But that mosquito-free environment did tempt me, for just a second.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Frogs cast an enchanting spell in my sister’s Minnesota garden August 5, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:56 AM
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One of the many frogs tucked among the flowers and plants in my sister's yard.

MY SISTER LANAE really doesn’t need a frog. She found and married her prince nine years ago.

Yet, she’s fallen hard for a bunch of frogs (technically an army of frogs) and a few toads. They’ve invaded her yard, taken over fountains and flower beds, bird baths and blossoms, and she’s welcomed them.

They’re all part of her plan, her grand plan to cast an envious spell (in my opinion) upon all who enter the enchanting world that is her backyard.

Now, you may think I’m exaggerating, playing this up, maybe even waving my own magical wand over you. But I’m not. My sister, the floral designer, has subtly tucked some 20 frogs and toads and other sweet little surprises into her gardens.

I marvel at her attention to detail, her designs, her intriguing way of naturally melding collectibles with the plants and flowers she has carefully selected, blended, nurtured. Her creations beckon visitors to pause, to really look, to delight in her artistry, for she is every bit an artist. Her yard is her canvas for the beautiful floral scenes she paints.

Last Sunday, during the Waseca Garden Club Garden Walk, folks noticed what I’ve known about my sister for decades. She colors outside the lines. She dares to make horses pink, cows purple. She is a strong, opinionated, determined, talented woman.

As I photographed Lanae’s vignettes, I eavesdropped, heard the praise, the ooohing and the aaahing, the exclaiming over her creations.

She deserves the gushing words—every single kudo, every single utterance of praise, every compliment—for she gardens with passion, with a love for the earth, with a heart for creating that which is absolutely, undeniably, beautiful.

Lanae created a lovely memory garden in honor of her friend, Vicki Andrejewski, who died in September 2009. Vicki's purple bird bath centers the garden, planted in her favorite colors of lime green and purple.

This gem-covered bowling ball drew the attention of visitors. Lanae applied "gems" to the recycled bowling ball using E6000 glue. The shimmering ball rests in Vicki's bird bath.

A bird bath accents a cluster of sedum. To the right, in the back, Lanae has rooted plants inside a birdcage-style terrarium.

Look closely and you'll discover a tiny frog tucked inside this birdcage terrarium.

I saw a boy grab these squishy frogs from a bird bath and then playfully toss them back into the water.

Using chicken wire and wood, Lanae created a wall garden. She planted hen 'n chicks, creeping Jenny, Mezoo trailing red Dorotheanthus, two types of sedum and two types of thyme and leaned the box against a tree.

A sizable toad lounges under a shade tree next to a Firecracker begonia.

Fairy tale mushrooms brighten foliage in a shady garden spot.

A dreamy blue ball set upon a pedestal accents a bed of blue salvia.

A colorful frog perches, almost naturally, in a gurgling fountain.

Lanae's yard was picture perfect for the garden tour, right down to the summery place setting on her patio table.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Oh, the horror of a paint-by-number painting July 29, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 2:01 PM
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SEE THESE EYES? My second daughter claims they creep her out, that the eyes resemble those of a deranged person in a horror movie.

The horrible, horrible eyes.

Then look at these eyes. Nothing wrong with these brown beauties, she says.

The brown beauties.

Perhaps the hair style, the cut of the bangs, lends to her uneasiness, her favoring one face over the other.

Or possibly she finds the presence of numbers, bleeding through the translucent skin, rather disturbing, adding to the macabre element.

I’m not going to admit to her, not even hint, that I understand her viewpoint. I can’t. I won’t.

These are, after all, my masterpieces. I tediously, laboriously, carefully, proudly painted these ballerinas as a child from a paint-by-number kit.

My ballerinas, painted number by number.

Up until recently, these portraits had been stashed in a chest of drawers. But one day I decided the time had come to unveil my artwork. So I propped the old new art upon a dining room shelf.

I didn’t expect the men in the house to notice the change. If they did, they never uttered a word, not one single comment about the big-eyed ballerinas.

But my daughter, my second-born, who possesses an artistic side and, like me, is always observant of her surroundings, noticed.

I wish she’d kept her horrible opinion about the horrible eyes to herself. Now I can’t shake the feeling that the blue-eyed ballerina, prior to becoming a paint-by-number model, may have starred in a horror film.

The beautiful brown-eyed ballerina.

The horrifying ballerina with the frightening eyes, the fixating gaze.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Making memories at a Minnesota family reunion with red Jell-O and, um, underwear July 28, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:41 AM
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UNDERWEAR AND CHEWING GUM, packets of Jell-O and Kool-Aid, a jar of pickles and even a bag of flour—all were part of the annual Kletscher family reunion held last weekend in Vesta.

First a little background. Vesta, a town of about 300, lies in Redwood County in southwestern Minnesota along State Highway 19 between Redwood Falls and Marshall. Every July descendants of Henry and Ida Kletscher, my grandparents, gather at the park in our ancestral hometown. I didn’t take a head count, but I estimate that 150 relatives attended this year’s reunion.

This shows a small section of the Kletscher family gathered for a trivia contest at the annual reunion in Vesta.

But back to that underwear and the other listed items. As a co-coordinator of this year’s reunion, I organized a family trivia contest complete with give-aways. To win prizes, audience members had to quickly shout out answers.

Now, I’m certain you’re wondering what I could have asked that prompted me to offer underwear as a prize. Well, here’s the question: “At family gatherings, the girl cousins played Chinese jump rope, which was made from what material?” The answer: recycled underwear elastic. Yes, because we were poor, we had to be resourceful. Rather than buy an elastic Chinese jump rope, we improvised by cutting elastic from worn-out undergarments and tying the pieces together.

I’m quite certain my niece Tara wishes she hadn’t been the first to respond to that Chinese jump rope question. She appeared shocked, maybe horrified is a better description, when I pulled out over-sized striped underwear and then tossed the panties her way. Later I would discover that she left her panty prize behind (on purpose, I’m sure). Big mistake. Big, big mistake.

Here’s another trivia question: “What was a popular food prize awarded to winners of Kletscher bridal shower games? This food was also served at family birthday gatherings.” As any good Minnesotan knows, that would be Jell-O, specifically red Jell-O. Naturally, I tossed out boxes of strawberry gelatin.

Then, the question that generated the most interest from the young girls: “Who made gum wrapper chains and strung them in her bedroom?” That would be my cousin Diane who carefully crafted discarded gum wrappers into chains. And, here’s the incredible part. Diane still had one of those decades-old chains and, per my request, brought it to the reunion. This intrigued the preteens and teens. And, as you would expect, I gave away packages of gum.

Aunt Iylene shows off the gum wrapper chain made by my cousin Diane decades ago.

Trivia contest winners, Diane, my mom and my niece Tara, pose with their "medals." The trio also received Smarties candy for being so smart. The losing teams received Dum Dum suckers.

So our reunion went…beginning with several families attending the Laura Ingalls Wilder pageant, “Fragments of a Dream,” in Walnut Grove on Friday evening. (Read my July 27 post on the memorable ride home. My cousin Ronda’s daughter Emily wrote a song, “The Unforgettable Storm,” performed on Sunday.)

Saturday evening we gathered at the Vesta Park for a campfire, wine tasting, singing, a texting competition, an outdoor movie and old-fashioned games like gunny sack and three-legged races. I laughed until my stomach hurt and then laughed some more.

Sunday brought the usual potluck followed by an afternoon of activities. Typically we eat and just sit and visit. But in an attempt to generate enthusiasm and more interest in the reunion, especially among the younger generation, we added planned events.

We themed this year’s reunion to the celebration of my cousin Jeff’s 20th wedding anniversary. Unfortunately his wife, Janet, could not attend as she was working, or so Jeff told us. More likely, Janet did not attend because she is not real. Twenty years ago Jeff pulled off an April Fool’s Day prank by announcing a marriage that was totally fraudulent/made-up/imaginary. Jeff, good sport bachelor that he is, allowed us to celebrate his “anniversary” in style. I’m not sure he expected a garter and bouquet toss, anniversary cake, crepe paper and bells, and a pile of gifts.

My husband and I and a handful of young girls decorated the park shelter and a screened tent with bells and crepe paper in honor of Jeff and Janet's 20th wedding anniversary.

My cousin Dawn, with the help of daughter Megan, made two beautiful anniversary cakes for her brother. My Uncle Wally and Aunt Janice made and decorated the less attractive cake with the beanie baby bridal bears.

Other afternoon events included a rock-paper-scissors tournament, a cupcake walk, a scavenger hunt, a memory game, and bean bag toss.

Oh, and I can’t forget the bridesmaid dress judging. Family members hauled their dresses to the reunion, where the garments were hung on a rope strung between two trees.

Family members selected their favorite and least favorite bridesmaid dresses that were hung between the trees.

The black-and-white dress was voted as the prettiest. The green one next to it is from my May 1982 wedding.

Relatives voted for the “prettiest” and the “ugliest.” Pre-teens, teens and my oldest daughter then modeled several dresses—fabric falling from their shoulders and dragging in the grass—before we crowned the winners with a beautiful tiara and a gaudy, flower-bedecked cap.

Later my cousin Terri would share that she felt vindicated as the bridesmaid dress worn in her wedding was voted the “prettiest.” (She claims to have gotten the “young” vote.) When she was married in 1989, Terri’s sisters teased her about the black-and-white bridesmaids’ dresses, saying they made them look like (Holstein) cows. Terri, now a model, actress and co-host of a public television show, Nature Adventures (airing soon in Minnesota), proved even back then that she had style. So there, sisters of hers.

Now, as I reflect on this weekend gathering with my mom, siblings, nieces, nephew, cousins, aunts and uncles and other family members, I have such good memories. I hear the laughter, the engaging conversations, our voices united in song. I feel the hugs, see the smiles. Bonds have been strengthened, new memories made, old ones rekindled. For me, that makes the hours and hours and hours of planning and hard work during the past year worth my time and energy.

I love my family and I would do this again for them in a heartbeat (just give me a few years to recover).

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Photos by my daughter Amber (because I had absolutely no time to shoot photos).

 

Barbecue heaven July 18, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 2:13 PM
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IF YOU’RE GONNA BARBECUE, you better have beer.

And, if you’re a novice at barbecuing ribs, then the bible helps too.

Not that my husband turned to God’s Word Saturday night during his first-ever attempt to make barbecued ribs. But he did refer to The Barbecue! Bible by Steven Raichlen.

My husband checked out The Barbecue! Bible from the local library to find a recipe for grilled ribs. I don't know why he chose a Memphis recipe.

Flipping to the Book of High on Hog, the second to last chapter, “Memphis-Style Ribs,” he read not of sweet, flowing honey, but of cumin and cayenne, pepper and paprika. Apparently the tribe of Memphis prefers spicy to sweet.

Following the written word, he mixed a dry rub of mostly spicy spices with a bit of brown sugar tossed in for a touch of sweetness. But because we were missing an ingredient for the mop sauce—namely yellow mustard—he substituted Sweet Baby Ray’s Barbecue Sauce for the homemade sauce. What can I say? Sometime we obey; sometimes we commit sins of omission.

But he certainly didn’t omit the beer. Apparently when you barbecue, you need beer, so says the Book of, well, uh…

While my husband grilled, he drank beer and did a sudoku puzzle.

After fueling up the Weber grill with charcoal, he grabbed a slab of wood from an oak pallet and axed the piece into wood chips. I watched and uttered, “Thou shalt not cut off thy fingers,” or something similar.

Next he baptized the wood—total immersion style—and later tossed the sticks inside the hot-as-you-know-where grill.

Flipping the ribs, adding wood for a smoked flavor...

Some two hours later, after more stoking of the fire, tending of the pork and imbibing of beer (for me a strawberry margarita) we feasted on savory ribs, fresh baby red potatoes and corn-on-the-cob, in a meal fit for royalty.

And if gluttony is a sin, then on Saturday I sinned grievously.

Grilling pork ribs over charcoal and wood made for a savory meat.

Fresh baby red potatoes and sweetcorn, purchased at the Faribault Farmers' Market, rounded out the meal.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An environmentalist speaks out about dirty socks and underwear July 16, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:23 AM
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KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS.

Remember that segment by Art Linkletter on his 1950s -1960s television show, House Party? He would interview kids who responded with “the darndest things.”

Well, recently my 8 ½-year-old nephew Christian produced a comment that would be Art Linkletter worthy.

Here’s how the scenario played out. When Christian’s mom, Jamie, went to do the laundry, she discovered that her son had dropped only one pair of socks and three underwear into the basket of dirty clothes for the week.

For illustration purposes, please pretend that these dirty socks belong to my 8 1/2-year-old nephew instead of the two big-footed guys in my household.

“I knew he wore socks (and hopefully underwear) every day, so I asked him about it,” she says.

Well, Christian had it all figured out. He explained that he would only change his socks and undergarments on bath nights (Wednesdays and Saturdays) to help save the environment. But that’s not all. His mom wouldn’t have to do the laundry as often.

Now how can you argue with a thoughtful environmentalist like that?

Clearly, when you’re the mom, you can. Jamie instructed Christian that he needed to change his socks and his underwear daily.

Well, I have a little secret, which you probably shouldn’t share with my sister-in-law and certainly not my nephew. When I was growing up, I did not change my underwear and socks every day. It just wasn’t done.

And, get this, my siblings, parents and I bathed once a week—on Saturday night in an old tin tub in the kitchen—whether we needed a bath or not.

Isn’t that just the darndest thing?

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My daughter experiences Argentine healthcare: A “nice” doctor, but… July 13, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:15 AM
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“I THOUGHT I SHOULD let you guys know that right now I am sick…”

This is not the e-mail news I want to read from my 22-year-old daughter who is living in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She has a fever, runny nose and a cough, all the symptoms of H1N1.

Unfortunately, I am well aware that a year ago Argentina suffered a major outbreak of the illness with a death rate (1.6 percent) more than three times the world average, according to a July 3, 2009, New York Times article. Yet, those deaths ran behind Mexico and the United States. Currently the World Health Organization reports that Argentina has “low activity and only sporadic detections of both pandemic and seasonal influenza viruses during the early part of winter.”

Yet, this provides little reassurance to me, a Minnesota mom with an unvaccinated daughter nearly 6,000 miles away who is exhibiting H1N1 symptoms.

Didn’t I tell her to get the H1N1 vaccine last winter at the University of Wisconsin, La Crosse, where she was finishing her senior year of college? She didn’t and I didn’t push the issue. Now I regret my lackadaisical attitude.

“Please don’t worry about me; I’m sure I will be better soon,” my daughter writes. “I’ve been drinking lots of water and tea. Also, my roommate Lucas has been taking really good care of me, bringing me soup, Kleenex, tea, water etc. Later today when he gets home from work he is going to go w/ me to the doctor.”

OK then, she tells me not to worry, but she feels sick enough to see a physician. This is not good.

But I am here, she is there and I can’t exactly bring her chicken soup. So, as any responsible mom would do, I worry and await her next e-mail.

The next morning she updates me. She doesn’t have H1N1, but a viral infection that should clear up in three days. My daughter relays that the doctor was nice and seemed competent, checking her temperature, blood pressure, heart, throat, symptoms, etc., “all the normal stuff they do in the States.” Alright then, that’s good.

But then she tells me about the free public clinic. “The clinic was probably the worst clinic I’ve ever been to. We had to wait forever to see the doctor, and they only had super-uncomfortable wooden benches in the very cold waiting room. After a while, I decided it would be more comfortable to sit on the floor b/c I could at least put my head against the wall, and Lucas covered me up w/ his jacket. This was a good idea b/c it was indeed more comfy and then 2 different doctors came up to us and tried to get us in sooner b/c I probably looked like crap. Also, the bathroom there was EXTREMELY disgusting! I don’t think any of the toilets flushed, there was no toilet paper (thankfully I had some Kleenex w/ me), and the sinks weren’t working.”

OK, up until that revelation, I was feeling better.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A family of the faithful at Moland Lutheran Church July 11, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:12 PM
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Moland Lutheran Church, rural Kenyon, Steele County, Minnesota.

IF YOU LOOK BEYOND the pews, the altar, and the stained glass windows, if you listen beyond the music and the sermon and the scripture readings, you will find, within a church, a family.

Here’s what I mean. Recently while photographing an old country church in southeastern Minnesota, I began to notice the personal touches that made me feel welcome, like I had stepped inside someone’s home.

Yes, women greeted me at Moland Lutheran Church during the congregation’s annual Strawberry Festival. But no one showed me around. I simply meandered on my own, with my camera, absorbing my surroundings. And that’s what I prefer.

Perhaps because I’m a writer and a photographer, I take note of my environment more than an ordinary person. I am drawn to that which others might simply pass by.

But rather than try to explain all of this to you, I’ll show you the discoveries I made inside and outside this 1884 Norwegian Lutheran church, the discoveries that led me to a family of the faithful.

I photographed a section of a long photo showing Moland church members gathered for the congregation's 50th anniversary celebration in 1930. The image hangs just outside the nave.

The Henry Underdahl family gifted a memorial stained glass window to the Moland Lutheran Church. Such memorials are a common way to honor family members and their legacy of faith.

I discovered this service roll in the narthex listing congregational members called to serve their country. I found this especially touching. Perhaps congregations should revive this public way of honoring those in the military.

Even after family members have departed this life, their memories are as close as the graves that surround Moland Lutheran. I imagine that many of the early members who filled the pews here also worked the land.

FOR MORE INFORMATION and photos of Moland Lutheran Church, please check my previous posts, “They serve the best food in Minnesota church basements” (posted July 1) and “In praise of preserving country churches” (posted July 7).

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Inspired by Dr. Seuss: My sister’s fat cat July 8, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:38 AM
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That fat cat sat,

sat in a chair.

Without a care

sat that fat cat

with his kingly air.

© Copyright 2010 by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Are we failing to properly express thanks? June 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:05 AM
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HAVE WRITTEN THANK YOU notes, like handwritten letters, become an outdated form of expressing gratitude?

Unfortunately, I think so.

Weeks have passed since I attended several high school graduation receptions, where I left cards and money for the graduates. I have yet to receive a single handwritten thank you, although all verbally thanked me for coming to their parties.

Eventually I expect these notes may arrive in my mail, make that snail mail. Yet I’m not holding my breath. Generally speaking, and I’m not pointing my finger at youth (we’re all guilty), we have become a society lax, or even forgetful, about writing personal thank you notes.

Maybe I’m old school, but prompt, from-the-heart gratitude penned on paper shows me that the recipient of my gift truly values my gift. It’s that simple. The words are right there, on paper, to read and reread, to appreciate again and again.

Recently, I struck up a conversation with a dad shopping for packaged thank you notes. Typically I don’t see men perusing these cards, which is exactly why I initiated a conversation.

He was buying note cards for his son, a recent high school graduate. The new graduate’s mother was insisting her son write thank yous—especially to the two aunts who had just signed a check paying for his first year of college.

Ya, think?

As the mother of two daughters and one son, I know, though, that boys sometimes need a little extra prodding to write anything. (Sorry, guys, but it’s true.) My now 16-year-old whines and complains, moans and groans, pouts and dawdles every year about writing thank you notes for birthday and Christmas gifts.

But I persist, insist and, yes, even demand he write these. Some day he may actually “get it,” that people appreciate the time and effort he’s taken to write personal thanks.

Now I have a confession to make.

I failed to write thank you notes for the wedding gifts my husband and I received in 1982. At the time, a trend of mass-printing thank yous had just begun. Unfortunately I followed that fad. To this day, I regret rolling up those impersonal thank you slips, securing them with a pretty little ribbon and placing them in a basket on the table next to the guestbook.

For nearly 30 years I’ve carried the guilt of these unwritten thank you cards. So, to my wedding guests, accept this sincere apology for never properly acknowledging your gifts. But please, please, don’t tell my teenage son about my etiquette error.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling