Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Rain, rain and more rain in Faribault July 15, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:20 PM
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I shot this photo from my living room window late this afternoon of flooded Willow Street.

AROUND 4 P.M., the sky turned black as night here in Faribault. And then the rain let loose. Rain pouring forth so fast that if I was Noah’s wife, I would have urged him to hurry up and finish building that ark.

For some 10 minutes or so, a boat would have been the preferred mode of transportation along the street past my house. The storm sewer couldn’t keep up with the rainwater rolling down the hill onto Willow Street, a main route through town.

Some drivers diverted to the opposite traffic lane to dodge the deepest water. Others splashed through without even slowing down. And yet others paused, tentatively tire-tip-toeing into the water.

Some drivers were cautious, others not so much, as they drove on flooded Willow Street.

Motorists drove through flooded Willow Street without too much concern.

Soon the onslaught of water swept across the roadway into a neighbor’s driveway, down the side of the garage and into the backyard. Next door, rain also surged onto the driveway, then channeled south down the sidewalk to another neighbor’s newly-blacktopped driveway.

The rain flowed across the street into the neighbor's driveway (left), along the garage and into the backyard.

The next two neighbors to have water from the flooded street surge onto their properties.

On my side of the street, at the near bottom of the hill, the curb contained the deluge of water.

It’s been quite a day here—rain, rain and more rain. Open the windows, close the windows. Open. Close. Check the skies. Listen to the weather report. Hang clothes on the clothesline and two minutes later pull them off after spotting heavy, threatening clouds moving in.

Then I checked the National Weather Service website to learn Rice County, my county, is now under a flash flood warning. Yes, it’s been quite a day with rain, rain and more rain.

WHAT’S THE WEATHER like in your area? Submit a comment and tell me.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Words matter: Prejudice and acceptance in Faribault July 14, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:42 AM
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Faribault is home to a sizable Hispanic population. This file photo was taken at a downtown Faribault Mexican bakery, which has since come under new ownership. The bakery was once at the center of a controversy over its exterior color and was repainted when some local businessmen donated money for a new paint job.

EVERY TIME I HEAR a derogatory comment about an ethnic group, I am still surprised. I don’t know why.

Perhaps the fact that this is 2011, and not 1960, factors into my belief that people have overcome their prejudices toward those with skin colors different than their own.

Then I hear a statement like this: “Willow Street is becoming a little fill in a Spanish word here.” I hadn’t heard the word before, which is why I can’t remember it. But I know for certain that it was unkind and derogatory and cutting toward the Hispanic population that lives in my community of Faribault, specifically along my street.

I couldn’t allow the slam to go unchallenged, especially since it was spoken just as I was about to enter, of all places, my church for Sunday morning worship.

In an immediate moment of incredible self control, I responded by telling this clearly prejudiced individual that there are “good whites” and “bad whites,” just like there are “good Hispanics” and “bad Hispanics.” I knew I had to keep my response simple so he would understand. I also told him that my Hispanic neighbors are “good neighbors.”

With those words tumbling off my tongue, I walked into the sanctuary, attempting to dismiss my anger and focus on an attitude of forgiveness.

I also consciously shifted my thoughts to an exchange I witnessed a day earlier. As a Somali mother walked into a Faribault grocery store with her adorable preschool-aged daughter, a Caucasian couple engaged the woman in conversation. They inquired about the little girl and asked her name.

“Amira,” the Somali mother answered and smiled.

“That means ‘princess,’” the man said and continued to share a story about another Amira he knew. All the while, the mother beamed. When they parted, he told the pair, “God bless you.”

I was trailing behind, thinking how my Aunt Dorothy has always called me her “Little Princess,” even now, today, when I am in my 50s. That endearing nickname has always made me feel so loved. Words can make such an impact.

As the Somali woman continued down the grocery store aisle with her daughter tagging behind, I blurted, “She’s so cute.”

The mother of the little princess turned and rewarded me with a smile, a universal human expression that bonds all humans no matter their skin color.

In this file photo, a Somali family waits to cross a downtown Faribault street.

CLICK HERE TO READ one of many posts I wrote related to the exterior colors of two ethnic restaurants in downtown Faribault. The color of the Mexican bakery, which has since changed hands, generated heated discussion within the community in 2009 and 2010.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

This is what it means to be free July 5, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:08 AM
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FOR THE PAST SEVERAL days, I’ve kept my eyes peeled for the perfect July Fourth image.

I thought that photo might come from my extended family’s annual July 4th weekend gathering or from the Roberds Lake Independence Day boat parade. Or perhaps I’d just see a patriotic display worthy of showcasing. Maybe a field of flags.

However, the photo I selected to best portray our nation’s birthday falls into none of these categories.

I chose this image, taken along Seventh Street in Faribault late Monday afternoon.

Let me explain.

This homeowner disagrees with a recent decision by the Faribault City Council to forgive a $72,000 water bill assessed to FWF Fund One, current owners of the Faribault Woolen Mills property. The woolen mill closed some time ago, leaving an original $120,000 unpaid water bill, which has since been paid down $48,000. Now new investors are working on purchasing the property and restarting the mill, thus prompting the request to forgive the remaining portion of the unpaid water bill. Read more about the issue by clicking onto this recent Faribault Daily News article.

Even though I happen to agree with the homeowner, I didn’t choose this as my favorite Independence Day photo for that reason.

This grassroots expression of an opinion represents to me the cornerstone of our nation: freedom.

As citizens of the United States, we are free to speak—to voice our ideas and opinions and concerns.

We needn’t be eloquent speakers or writers or members of city councils to express ourselves.

A simple handwritten sign posted on a tree along a busy street epitomizes freedom at its most basic, individual, level.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

MPR debuts Minnesota architecture series with my submission July 1, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:46 PM
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LAST WEEK MINNESOTA Public Radio’s “State of the Arts” blogger Marianne Combs put out a call for photos and stories celebrating the great architecture of Minnesota.

I figured given how much I appreciate old buildings—and that would be considerably—I could submit an entry. But what building would I choose?

I started going through my photo folders in search of an image I considered most worthy of submission. FYI, I even have a folder labeled “architecture.”

Faribault topped my choices since this southeastern Minnesota community, my home since 1982, has many, many buildings on the National Register of Historic Places. And, yes, architecturally, these structures are jewels.

Then I considered images from Lucan, Morgan, Hanley Falls, Wood Lake, West Concord, Mantorville, Alexandria, Northfield and a few other towns I can’t immediately recall. Yes, the list was long.

But something kept tugging at me—my loyalty to my hometown of Vesta. Now those of you familiar with Vesta, population around 350 and with a block-long main street, are likely wondering what on earth I found in this southwestern Minnesota prairie town of architectural worth.

Here is the building I chose and which debuted Marianne Combs’ Minnesota architecture series this afternoon. You can click here to read why I chose the Vesta Municipal Liquor Store.

 

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A misplaced torch at a veterans’ memorial

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:33 AM
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TYPICALLY, I WOULD NOT criticize a veterans’ memorial project. I respect those who have served our country and those who lead efforts to honor them via public memorials.

However, last week when I saw the latest addition to the in-progress Rice County Veterans Memorial Expansion Project at the county courthouse in Faribault, I could not believe what I was seeing.

There, guiding my eyes toward a center bronzed eagle and dove, was a flashing neon flame depicting “our never ending vigilance.”

The new, fake torch at the Rice County Veterans Memorial at the courthouse in Faribault. Here you see the wing tip of the bronzed eagle below the torch. I have not edited this image taken one evening last week.

My initial reaction has not changed since I stopped that night to closer inspect and photograph this neon torch better suited for a casino—anything but a veterans’ memorial.

As we all know, first impressions count. In this case, the neon flame certainly does not fit. This is supposed to be a place of reverence, of quiet meditation, of respectful honor for those who have served the United States of America. A fake, flickering fire does not portray that message of honor.

I am disappointed.

Prior to installation of this imitation torch, a fuel-fed torch burned near the historical Civil War statue which has long graced the courthouse lawn. Apparently that flame went out all too often, leading to its removal and installation of the Vegas style torch.

The long-standing Civil War statue sets a historical mood for the Rice County Veterans Memorial. I shot this image last fall.

To the right, in this unedited photo, you'll see a side view of the historical Civil War marker. In the center is the torch and the bronzed eagle and dove with flags and the courthouse in the background.

I could go on and on about how much I dislike this cheapening alternative, how it fails to fit the historical context of this place, the courthouse architecture or the long-standing Civil War marker. I won’t because I’ve said enough.

View my photos and tell me what you think. I’d like your opinion.

But even more, if you agree that this style of torch does not belong at a veterans’ memorial, offer a solution. I have none. Except to pull the plug.

Honorary pavers line sidewalks leading to the center of the Rice County Veterans Memorial in this image taken last fall.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In loving memory of Rhody C. Yule June 16, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:49 AM
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Rhody's self-portrait, 1989

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON we eulogized and buried my 92-year-old artist friend, Rhody Yule.

I have known Rhody for less than two years, having met him quite by happenstance in the fall of 2009. While driving by his rural Faribault home, I spotted celebrity portraits hanging on his garage, stopped to photograph them and then went to his front door.

There I met this sprite of a man and his yapping dog, Jo-Jo.

With his dog shut in the kitchen because I feared being bitten, Rhody shared the story of his life with me and my husband, Randy, strangers until then. I did not hesitate to ask about the paintings hung in his cozy living room and on his garage. He did not hesitate to share that he had been painting since age 16.

Even on that first visit, I learned so much about a man who would come to mean so much to me. His wife, Shirley, had fallen and was living in Hastings. Oh, how he missed her. His only child, Paul, died in a car accident in 1977 at age 23. Oh, how he missed him.

Rhody told us about his military service, including time in Nagasaki, Japan, cleaning up after the atomic bomb. He showed us photos and paintings on that first visit and grass-woven sandals from Japan snugged inside a wooden box he had crafted.

I thought to ask, thank God, if he had ever publicly exhibited his art. He hadn’t. That became my mission, to get a gallery show for this life-long artist. His first mini-show, of his religious paintings, came in September 2010, when he was invited to Christdala Church near Millersburg. He had, many years prior, done a painting of the church. Randy and I coordinated that exhibit, then loaded the paintings into our van and set them up outside this historic country church. Rhody and I spoke briefly at that event and he assured me that, despite our nervousness, we did well.

At Christdala, I distributed mini fliers for his upcoming gallery show at the Paradise Center for the Arts in Faribault. I had applied for the exhibit on his behalf and, in January, with the assistance of family and friends and volunteers, “A Lifetime of Art: The Rhody Yule Collection” opened to a packed gallery.

In typical Rhody fashion, this man of gentle spirit and quiet humility took it all in, never once boasting, but enjoying every second of his evening. This marked a shining moment for him in his 92 years of life and I was honored to have helped him achieve this public recognition of his art.

Rhody, minutes before his gallery show opened in January 2011.

RHODY’S FUNERAL SERVICE on Wednesday, while tinged with grief, also caused us to laugh out loud at his humor. We reminded each other of his forgiving attitude, his unshakable faith, his always positive attitude.

Just days before his death,  my husband Randy and I visited one last time with Rhody. Physically his body had deteriorated to a shell of the man he had been, but his mind and spirit remained strong. We saw him on a good night.

In that last hour with our friend, we reminisced about his gallery exhibit as I, one-by-one, held up photos I had taken that evening. He was too weak to grasp the images. And then we paged through several of his photo albums with pictures of a younger Rhody, a freckle-faced Paul, a beautiful Shirley.

I thought to myself, “You will be with them soon, Rhody. Soon.”

Rhody did not fear death. Yet he wished to live, even thought he might recover. I knew better. When I mentioned Millersburg, Rhody was ready for a night out and a beer at his favorite eating establishment there. Family and friends celebrated with him last fall in Millersburg at a patriotic-themed freedom party. His idea. His celebration after overcoming a recent, temporary loss of his personal freedom.

Rhody had more living to do. I learned at his funeral that this WW II veteran wanted to travel on a Washington D.C. Honor Flight to see the war memorials. It breaks my heart that he did not live long enough for that to happen.

Me and Rhody at his opening night gallery reception.

He prayed every night for the soldiers to come home.

He was smartly dressed for burial in his military uniform, which hung loosely on the gaunt body of a man who once stood strong in service to his country.

Those honoring his memory were directed to donate to the Rice County Veterans Memorial Expansion Project.

A spray of patriotic red and white flowers adorned with a blue ribbon decorated Rhody’s carved wooden casket, a casket so appropriate for a man who crafted wooden boxes and also picture frames (for his art). Had he been physically capable, I expect Rhody may have built and carved his own casket.

But Rhody is gone now and, as the eulogist, the Rev. Ron Mixer, said, Rhody is busy painting sunrises and sunsets in heaven. He suggested we look for a signature “Y” in the clouds.

Rhody has left those of us who knew and loved him with more than his legacy as an artist and the thought that he is still painting. He has gifted each of us with his spirit of forgiveness and kindness, his humor and humility, his desire for fun, a love of life and a faith that endured challenges.

I knew Rhody such a short time. But how blessed that time has been.

We drove through nearly-torrential rain Wednesday afternoon to the rural Cannon City Cemetery to bury Rhody beside Shirley. As we gathered under the tent and next to it, sheltered by umbrellas gripped tight against the whipping wind, members of the Central Veterans Association fired an honorary salute to their brother soldier. Taps mourned. An aging veteran presented a folded American flag to Rhody’s step son in a voice choking with gratitude and emotion.

Soon the rain stopped and the sun wedged through the clouds as if Rhody was there, telling us to wipe away the tears. He would have wanted us to celebrate his life, and we did, but only if we didn’t brag about him.

Rhody's favorite painting, "The Last Supper," which he painted in honor of his beloved son Paul.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When the power goes out June 7, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:50 AM
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WHEN THE POWER goes out on a Monday evening, say at exactly 6:50 p.m., on one of the first oppressively hot days of a Minnesota summer, what do you do?

Here’s a recap of my 4 ½ hours without electricity.

Finish a late grilled chicken supper with the husband and teenage son, followed by the routine clearing of the table, washing dishes (there’s a reason I don’t own a dishwasher) and then taking out the garbage, which is typically the husband’s job, but he is mowing the lawn.

Notice that the under-sink garbage container reeks and is growing black something-or-other. Scrub off the unknown black growth and blast the garbage can with disinfectant.

Sweep the kitchen floor.

Pretty routine so far, right?

Water the plants on the patio.

Now what? Can’t get on the computer to check email or work on chapter one of the book you are editing.

Grab the stack of invoices and statements from the local lumber yard and try to figure out whether you’ve been billed and/or credited properly for materials purchased for the house project that has been a stressful, six-month undertaking. Mutter a few words that cannot be printed here.

Ask the son where his father has disappeared to and then spot him across the street talking to the neighbors, whom we’ve never met. Observe other neighbors outdoors, including those next door, who have stepped outside for a smoke. Apparently when the power goes out, smoking in a closed-up, without air conditioning, house becomes intolerable, or perhaps suffocating.

Grab a book and a notebook to read and take notes on a book you are reviewing for a magazine. In the fading light of day, that plan lasts through two pages.

Text the daughter in Wisconsin, who doesn’t text back.

Join the husband who decides, around 9 p.m., that a tour of the town is necessary to determine the source and extent of the power outage. A few blocks away, several Xcel Energy trucks ring an electrical substation.

This electrical substation near the viaduct in Faribault was the apparent location of Monday evening's power outage. I took this photo in March, as the city prepared for spring flooding.

Through-out downtown, street lights are dark,  store fronts lit. Figure that one out. Temporary stop signs replace non-functioning stoplights along Minnesota Highway 60, the main drag through Faribault. A grocery store, gas station and fast food restaurant stand dark and shuttered.

Realize that driving along unlit city streets ranks as unsafe given pedestrians and bikers think you can see them, but you can’t. No encounters. Just a realization that a city without street lights and with darkened homes and businesses appears eerie and dangerous. Wonder what strangers to Faribault think of driving into a darkened city.

Return home. Finally accept that power likely will not be restored for awhile. Light candles. Dig out the camping lantern, which hasn’t seen a tent in decades and serves as the primary light source during electrical outages.

Ask the teen, who has been reading a book all evening and who is lounging on the living room floor, to find some news on his cell phone. Still don’t understand how he can listen to the radio on his cell. No news found. However, he tunes into classical music and tries to convince his father to listen to Beethoven and Bach at work rather than classical rock. Son is working in his dad’s automotive machine shop for the summer. Dad isn’t convinced. Suggest a compromise—morning with the Moody Blues, afternoon with Beethoven.

Question the boy more about first day back at work, whether he’s been welcomed. Yeah. Encourage more conversation because usually the teen has head buried in the computer and such opportunities are rare. Learn that he lunched at the picnic table behind the automotive store. Ask whether conditions have improved in the outdoor dining area. Nope. Still a dumpster and trailer and scrap metal pile next to the picnic table. Suggest the boss give me a decorating budget to spruce up the place. Ain’t gonna happen. Son says he and Dad should bring lawn chairs.

Phone Xcel Energy for the second time. Hear that power should be back on by 11 p.m. It is 10:30 p.m. Earlier recording stated lights on at 8:50 p.m. Don’t believe smooth-talking woman. Decide to head to bed.

But, first, join son for star gazing in backyard. Listen to him complain about light pollution. Find the Big Dipper when he asks. Thinks parents cannot find it, are dumb. Suggest he take star gazing chart to southwestern Minnesota. He requests one night worldwide when all lights are turned off. Tell him that won’t happen. Looting. Other crimes.

Advise him to lock door and turn off lantern when done sky watching. Candles extinguished earlier. Off to bed. Just drifting off. Door rattles. Teen clomps. Wide awake. Power back on: 11:15 p.m.

ACCORDING TO AN ONLINE Faribault Daily News article, 2,700 homes were without power in northern Faribault, stretching to Cannon City Township. The apparent cause of the outage was a failure at a regional substation.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A perfect summer day in Minnesota June 6, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:23 AM
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The sun sets on the prairie at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault on Sunday evening.

SUNDAY BROUGHT as perfect of a day as we have here in Minnesota. Sunshine. High temps without the humidity. No wind. A day to linger outdoors until the sunlight fades into the dark calm of a perfect summer evening.

Honestly, do days get any better than this?

In Minnesota, we gather these days into our memories, filing them away for the brutal months of winter, of bitter cold temps, snow (dare I mention that word?) and too much darkness.

For now we choose to celebrate the days of summer with family and friends, backyard barbecues and icy beer, laughter and conversation.

Here’s to the arrival of summer and the banishment of winter to some hinterland far, far, far away from Minnesota.

A deer I spotted just inside the nature center. (If only I had a telephoto lens.)

I saw this deer atop a hill at the nature center as my husband and I were leaving after a short hike. Same deer?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Fancy pheasant at the BBQ contest June 2, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:44 AM
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Members of The Q Crew from Waldorf set up their tent and competed recently at the Minnesota in May BBQ Contest at the Rice County Fairgrounds in Faribault. It is the first time the event has been held here.

HERE’S HOW MUCH LITTLE I know about fancy food. Once while dining out with my 23-year-old daughter, I mistook balsamic vinegar for chocolate. I wondered why chocolate had been drizzled across a plate and served to us with bread.

So when I saw bacon-wrapped pheasant fancily-plated at the Minnesota in May BBQ Contest in Faribault recently, I was beyond impressed. This could have been on any upscale restaurant menu. But this appetizer had been prepared on the grill by an Appleton, Wisconsin, team and sent to the judges in the open class competition.

The artfully displayed bacon-wrapped pheasant prepared by a team from eastern Wisconsin.

This crisscross of raspberry chipotle sauce, bacon-wrapped pheasant and several sprigs of whatever artfully arranged on a square white plate would have wowed even Chef Gordon Ramsay. I was wowed, by the presentation and the taste—love that raspberry chipotle.

My husband and I sampled several meats as we wandered the Rice County Fairgrounds competition site. Chicken. Pork. Ribs. Brisket. And then an apple-topped cheesecake.

Another Wisconsin team handed me a fork and told my husband and me to eat whatever we wanted. They had prepared 60 pounds of meat for the competition, were tired of eating it and didn't want to take any home. So we didn't hesitate to taste some mighty fine BBQ and dug right in.

I wanted to try the apple dumplings tended by Tom Mcintosh of the fancy pheasant team, but those were going to the judges.

Tempting apple dumplings.

All in all, even though I arrived too late to watch competitors grill (due to pouring rain) and prepare their entries, I saw enough to realize you can do a lot with a grill, knowledge, creativity and a love of cooking.

Left-over grilled meat prepared by a team from western Wisconsin.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The patriotic traditions of Memorial Day in Minnesota May 31, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:34 AM
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Boy Scouts march down Faribault's Central Avenue, giving away small American flags, on Memorial Day.

A member of the Color Guard salutes at the Memorial Day program in Central Park.

YES, DEAR READERS, I have yet another Memorial Day post to share with you. But I cannot help myself. My parents reared me to respect this day as a time to honor our war dead.

Every year of my childhood, we attended the Memorial Day program in my hometown of Vesta on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. I continued that tradition with my children by taking them each year to the Memorial Day parade in Faribault.

It is a tradition my husband and I continue, minus the kids—two of whom are grown and gone and the third a teen that cannot be roused from bed for the 10 a.m. parade.

Now I smile at the young families who gather along the curb in downtown Faribault to watch the veterans and Boy Scouts, the old cars and horses, the Girl Scouts and the Shattuck-St. Mary’s crack squad, the police cars and fire truck and marching bands.

Little hands reach for American flags distributed by the walking, sometimes running, Boy Scouts.

Clutched fists wave American flags.

It’s all so patriotic.

After the parade, the crowd gathers at nearby Central Park for more patriotism and I am reminded of my dad, a Korean War vet, who marched so many times with his Color Guard in parades and programs.

In the park bandshell, the guests of honor sit, rise and tell us they have little to say before offering these words:

“Your wars aren’t all won on the battlefield. They’re also won at home.”

“If you know a veteran, just say, ‘thank you.’ It means so much to them—something Vietnam vets were short of.”

“I salute all veterans here.”

“God bless everybody.”

“God bless America.”

The Color Guard leads the way in the Faribault Memorial Day parade.

These Boy Scouts seem a bit indecisive, while other Boy Scouts race toward the crowd to hand out American flags.

Every year the Boy Scouts give away flags during the parade.

A veteran and others wait for the Memorial Day program to start at Central Park.

The Color Guard advances and the Memorial Day observance begins in Central Park.

The Color Guard soldiers salute. Emcee and radio announcer Gordy Kosfeld, on stage at the podium, will later tell us: "Memorial Day should be a time of reflection, not a holiday."

A strong wind blew the Color Guard flags set next to the bandshell stage at Central Park.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling