Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Gargoyles perform at The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour August 9, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:18 AM
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THE CHURCH DOOR bangs, the weight of the solid wood slamming against the frame as if decisively shutting out the hot, humid air that oppresses on this sultry Sunday afternoon in August in Minnesota.

We entered The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour through this heavy side door, which you need to push rather than pull, we learned after waiting outside, thinking we were locked out of the church.

Inside the sanctuary, I seek respite from the suffocating 90-plus degree heat. I settle onto a purple cushion which softens the hardness of wood against flesh in a pew that forces me to sit ramrod straight.

My husband and I, expecting a packed house, have arrived early for a performance by The Chicago Gargoyle Brass at The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour in Faribault. This massive structure with its looming tower was constructed from 1862 – 1869 as the first Cathedral of the American Church.

The Chicago Gargoyle Brass presented a Sunday afternoon concert at The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour in Faribault.

The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour sits along Second Avenue across from Faribault's Central Park.

Inside, I welcome the coolness, visually defined by stone and by the dark wood that shapes the arches of the ceiling.

In the chancel area, which stretches an interminable distance from the pews and which is bigger than some country churches I’ve seen, Gargoyle Brass members have positioned their gleaming instruments and music stands at the forefront. Six stained glass windows embrace this “stage” with the glorious 1871 pipe organ (with more old pipes than any other in Minnesota), to the right.

Concert attendees filter into this historic cathedral made of dark wood and stone.

Truly, I am in awe of this cathedral. “This place smells old,” I whisper to Randy as I run my hand along the back of a pew. “Are these the original pews?” They are, I learn upon reading a brochure I’ve picked up. A Civil War veteran cut and planed the wood from northern Minnesota white pine.

I can’t seem to take my eyes off the brass eagle that serves as a lectern given in honor of Bishop Henry Whipple’s wife, Cornelia, who died in July 1890. Bishop Whipple settled in Faribault, oversaw construction of the cathedral and Episcopalian schools and was known for his efforts in helping and befriending Native Americans.

While I wait for the concert to begin, I contemplate the beauty and history of this place and the effort it must have taken to build this stone cathedral.

Soon the concert, part of The Vintage Band Festival hosted in nearby Northfield, begins and we are swept away by the sounds of trumpets, horn, trombone, tuba and timpani (kettledrums) melded with the organ.

The Chicago Gargoyle Brass performs at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour.

I am surprised mostly that the organ does not overpower this cathedral. Often, the music sounds more sedated and muffled than majestic, as I had expected. That has nothing to do with the quality of the organists—for they are superb—but more, I think, to do with the organ placement.

At one point during the concert, a key spring on the organ breaks and a second organist must hold up the key during a performance. “Does someone have some bubblegum?” one of the musicians asks the audience. I’m not sure whether he’s serious or joking, but the concert continues without the gum.

Admittedly, I am no music expert. I can’t read notes. I barely know one instrument from another. So my enjoyment of music is purely, solely authentic, grassroots basic. When my head bobs spontaneously, when I feel the music reverberating, tingling my feet, when I feel an emotional connection, then I know I am hearing good music.

Sunday afternoon I heard good, even great, music from The Chicago Gargoyle Brass, which began in 1992 as a University of Chicago based group. The name was derived from the university’s architecture.

“I love this church,” horn player Arisia Gilmore tells us before performing “Twas a Dark and Stormy Night” with Michael Surratt at the organ. “It’s fitting for the atmosphere we’re trying to portray here.”

As I listen to the music build, like a storm, Randy leans toward me. “Does this remind you of two weeks ago?” he speaks softly into my ear. I nod. He is, like me, recalling the night of July 23 when we were caught in our car on a rural southwestern Minnesota road in the middle of a raging thunderstorm that packed 70 mph winds.

That’s the purpose of music, I think—to stir passions, emotions and, yes, even memories of dark and stormy nights when gargoyles lurk.

A looming tower marks the cathedral located along Second Avenue across from Faribault's Central Park.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“It could be cancer, but you’re too healthy” August 7, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:49 AM
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Layton Fossum, cancer survivor, poses with a luminary bag given in his honor at the Straight River Stroll in Faribault Friday night.

MEET LAYTON FOSSUM. Two years ago the Northfield man suffered from a raspy throat, a hearing loss and then a twitch in his face.

Must be a virus, the doctors initially told him. But the then 45-year-old persisted and eventually was diagnosed with a very rare form of cancer with a name he struggles to pronounce. So he simply says “head and neck cancer.”

After a 10 ½-hour surgery that was supposed to take three, he emerged with 40 fewer lymph nodes, but thankful to be alive. Next he would explore his post-operative treatment options, traveling to Houston, Seattle, Illinois and California before finally settling on radiation at Cancer Treatment Centers of America in Zion, Illinois.

Through-out his journey, this Malt-O-Meal employee who missed six months of work due to his cancer and is happier than ever now to go to work, has remained positive. Even today he can joke about his experience. “I told my wife I’m worth more. I have gold in me,” Layton tells me Friday night at the Rice County Fairgrounds in Faribault during the American Cancer Society Straight River Stroll.

Thousands gathered Friday evening at the Straight River Stroll at the Rice County Fairgrounds to raise funds for cancer research to remember, celebrate and pray for those touched by cancer.

Layton points to his right eye and the lump of gold in his eyelid. Because he no longer has facial nerves on the right side, he needs the weight to help close the lid, which will shut only when he closes the opposite lid.

Then Layton shows me his ear, which, too, was reshaped during reconstructive surgery to tighten his drooping face.

Layton has no hearing in his right ear, which was reshaped during reconstructive facial surgery.

Yet, despite all he has undergone, despite the changes in his appearance, Layton remains upbeat and eager to tell his story. He was invited back to Zion and spoke for 1 ½ hours to a roomful of suit-and-ties, he says.

Before his diagnosis two years ago, Layton was the picture of health, the last one you would expect to get cancer, a friend says.

He heard the same from doctors: “It could be cancer, but you’re too healthy.”

Still, he did have cancer. And Friday evening Layton was among those celebrating their cancer-free lives at the Straight River Stroll, a Relay for Life event to fund cancer research. As I walked beside him, switching from his right to left side so he could hear me, I marveled at this man who stopped often, bent low to read the names written on white paper bags in memory of, praying for and rejoicing with those who, like him, endured cancer.

Some lost the battle. Some won. Some are still fighting.

This team of kids set out luminaries by the wagonful.

Among the personalized bags, I discovered this especially touching one drawn by a child in celebration of a father's survival.

Words of encouragement for Mike Schulz.

A luminary honors Sandy Doehling, who died of breast cancer.

Kids and teens, even adults, lined up to have their hair spray painted at a booth to raise funds for cancer research.

A volunteer ratted and sprayed a girl's hair, all to raise monies for cancer research at the Straight River Stroll.

Kids could climb inside this race car, with a hood especially designed to recognize those who have endured cancer. The hood is placed on the car, which races at Elko Speedway, only for special occasions like the Stroll.

Faribault resident Jerry Kes led the Stroll as an honored cancer survivor.

As dusk settled, volunteers began lighting the luminaries which stretched and wound around the fairgrounds.

(This post is written in memory of my dad, who died of esophageal cancer in 2003; my nephew, Justin, who died of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2001; and my mom, who is a breast cancer survivor.)

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

People-watching at a Minnesota State Band concert July 31, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:19 PM
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WHENEVER I ATTEND A CONCERT, I tend to people-watch as much as I musician-listen.

Take Thursday evening when my husband and I arrived more than a half hour late for an outdoor performance by the Minnesota State Band in Faribault’s Central Park. I immediately noticed our friend Howard dozing in a lawn chair next to a tree next to the drinking fountain.

Randy and I exchanged smirks as we walked by and later, when Howard opened his eyes, my husband greeted him with a cheery “Good morning!” Our friend, who also happens to be a distant relative, claims he wasn’t sleeping, just resting his eyes. Uh huh.

Then I observed the guy lounging sideways on the grass, belly hanging out of his red t-shirt. Yeah, well, that was more like a quick glance, turn-away-the-head type of look.

I wondered about the woman wearing pants topped by a long sleeve shirt topped by a short sleeve shirt. Wasn’t she hot in pants and double layers on this warm, breezeless summer night?

But mostly, I like to watch the kids because they are, for lack of a better word, cute. They dance. They frolic. They sway, uninhibited, to the music. While I didn’t see any dancing kids at this concert, I have in the past. Just watching them makes me smile, makes me happy.

At this concert, I had to settle for observing a fair-haired toddler who, hands clenched by older siblings (or maybe cousins or neighbors) walked back and forth along the sidewalk, occasionally straying to the grass. He was just too cute.

Lest you think I ignored the music, you would be wrong. Randy and I listened to exactly four songs performed by the Minnesota State Band (remember, we arrived late), which I had to research afterward because I’d never heard of the group. They are, according to the band Web site, the official band of the state of Minnesota. In existence since 1898, this non-profit is comprised of volunteers and is the only remaining state band in the United States.

I’m no music person, meaning if a band misses notes or isn’t quite in sync, I typically won’t notice. Howard told us later that the band’s lack of joint practice, as noted by the director, showed a few times. The musicians fooled me because I thought the songs sounded just fine.

We listened to a march, then the melancholy Irish melody, “Danny Boy,” then another song I don’t recall and, finally, a familiar, inspiring patriotic march that I only could place as a John Philip Sousa piece.

“What’s that song? I know that song,” I whispered to Randy as my flip-flopped foot flip-flopped back and forth to the tempo of the music.

“They play it on the Fourth of July,” he answered. “Ask Howard, he’ll know.”

And, indeed, our friend knew that the Minnesota State Band, on this perfect summer evening in the heart of a mid-sized Minnesota community, had performed “Stars and Stripes Forever” before an appreciative and alert (well, mostly alert) crowd.

#

THE MINNESOTA STATE BAND returns to the Faribault area on Sunday, August 8, when they will present two concerts at the Vintage Band Music Festival in neighboring Northfield.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A WW II flag of honor reminds me of freedom’s price on Independence Day July 4, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:38 PM
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Four flags, including an American flag that flew in Iraq, stand in the narthex of Trinity Lutheran Church, Faribault, Minnesota.

FOUR FLAGS STAND in a circle in the Trinity Lutheran Church narthex—two American flags, the other two unrecognizable to me.

So I inquire on this Sunday morning, this Fourth of July, this day we celebrate our nation’s birthday, this day of independence.

The one flag, with the big blue star in the center and the smaller white stars along the sides belongs to Kathy, who manages the church office. She knows nothing about its background, only that she purchased and proudly flies this red-white-and-blue at her home along with an American flag.

But the other flag, oh, the large star-studded flag, draws the attention of many. “What is this flag?” we ask each other as we unfold the fabric to reveal a sea of stars on white fabric bordered by red.

The women of Trinity Lutheran Church stitched this WW II honor flag.

And no one knows, until Dave arrives and uncovers the mystery. It is, he says, a flag recognizing those congregational men and women who served our country during WW II. The blue stars denote all who served. The six gold stars hand-stitched atop six blue stars honor those who never came home.

Six gold stars represent the six Trinity members who gave the ultimate sacrifice, their lives, during WW II.

I stand there awed, really, that so many individuals from this German Lutheran church in a mid-sized Minnesota community answered the call to duty during a single war. My friend Lee and I count: 162 blue stars and six double stars of gold upon blue.

The blue stars number 162, one for every Trinity member serving in WW II.

Six young men gave their lives for their country. The thought of such grief within a single congregational family overwhelms me.

I feel now as if I am viewing a sacred cloth. I wonder how many tears fell upon this flag as the ladies of the congregation stitched these stars.

I lift the flag, gently flip the fabric to the back side and examine the even machine-stitching on the blue stars. And then I examine the long, uneven stitches on the gold stars, sewn in place by hand.

Hand-stitching on the backs of two gold stars honoring those who died. The outer row is machine-stitching, holding the blue stars in place.

Dave tells us the flag stood at the front of the church, as did similar flags at churches through-out our community of Faribault. Roger steps up, says he remembers a smaller flag in the church he attended during WW II.

And if Dave’s memory serves him right, this flag remained on display until the end of the war.

Today I am glad, even though also saddened, that this flag of honor has been taken out of storage and put on display. For this one morning, on this Independence Day, those of us gathered here freely to worship have been reminded again that freedom does not come without a price.

A view of three of the flags, looking into the sanctuary, centered by a cross.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Faribault losing one classy restaurant with Monte’s Steak House closure June 11, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:44 AM
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WHEN I WON A $25 gift certificate to Monte’s Steak House at the Faribault Business Expo and Community Showcase in late April, I told my husband, “We better use this before the place closes.”

I should have heeded my own advice.

Monte’s forced to close, a front page headline in this morning’s Faribault Daily News screamed at me.

“Oh, no,” I uttered to no one because no one was around to witness my surprise, even though this wasn’t really a surprise.

Monte’s has been plagued with issues from the get-go and has closed at least once, if not twice (I can’t recall details), during its several years in Faribault. Most recently, the property went in to foreclosure and was purchased by a Northfield bank.

The current tenant, apparently, has had enough and is opting out of signing a month-to-month lease on the building, the story reports.

For the community of Faribault, the closing of Monte’s represents, in my opinion, the loss of a restaurant that offered great cuisine in a classy atmosphere. Some locals even compared Monte’s to “restaurants you would find in the Cities.” I wouldn’t know; I’ve never dined in the metro except at a chain restaurant or two.

But at Monte’s, I sampled food other than battered, deep-fried everything that seems typical fare in these parts. Not a steak-lover, I stuck mostly to the pastas and was never disappointed.

When my second daughter and I last ate at Monte’s on St. Patrick’s Day, I savored a superb salad laced with locally-made blue cheese, toasted pecans, strips of grilled chicken and dried cranberries topped with a maple dressing. Crusty bread served with a garlic-infused olive oil and balsamic vinegar (or maybe it was garlic-infused balsamic vinegar and olive oil) dipping sauce accompanied our meals. I even tried crab cakes for the first time, sampled from my daughter’s seafood pasta platter.

Monte’s initially promoted itself as an upscale restaurant, and that may have attributed to the attitude among many locals that the food was too high-priced. Admittedly, I am frugal to the point that I typically order only water while dining out. And I don’t dine out all that often because, as I said, I’m frugal. So for me to dine at Monte’s means the prices were not, for the most part, unreasonable.

In addition to the unique food offerings, I also appreciated the atmosphere of this historic building, basking in the lovely wooden floors, luxurious leather booths, exposed brick walls and large windows.

Cloth napkins and hefty, real silverware added to the class of Monte’s. Dining here was an experience.

I’ll have one last opportunity to enjoy Monte’s. After I donned my eyeglasses so I could read the entire news story and not just the Monte’s forced to close headline, I learned, thankfully, that the restaurant will be open until June 18. That gives me exactly one week to get my butt downtown and use that $25 gift certificate.

I may even order a glass of wine. After all, my meal will be on a Faribault realtor’s dime and not mine.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Honoring our veterans: Memorial Day 2010 May 31, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 3:53 PM
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Korean War veteran Ray Sanders reviews a Memorial Day flier prior to a ceremony in Faribault's Central Park.

I NEVER EXPECT TO CRY. But nearly every Memorial Day, I do.

Today tears edge the corners of my eyes as a Korean Conflict memorial wreath is placed upon a white cross during a program in Faribault’s Central Park.

Up until that moment, I am OK. But then, just like that, the emotions surface. I fight to hold back the tears. My lips quiver.

I am thinking of my dad, Elvern Kletscher, who served on the front lines during the Korean War. If he was still here, I would thank him. But now, of my soldier-father, I have only his military photos to peruse, his few shared war stories to remember, his letters to read and his grave to visit.

He has been gone seven years now although, truly, I lost my dad decades before that to the ravages of war.

Today, please take time to remember and honor veterans, those men and women who served our country to preserve the freedoms we enjoy.

The Rice County Veterans Association Honor Guard/Color Guard awaits the start of a Memorial Day program, where memorial wreaths will later be placed upon the white cross seen here in the center of this photo.

An aging veteran, among those we honor this Memorial Day.

A veteran proudly holds the American flag, representing the country he served, the freedom he preserved.

The color guard places American flags in front of the bandshell in Faribault's Central Park.

Just-placed pavers honoring veterans at the Rice County Veterans' Memorial in Faribault, currently under construction at the county courthouse.

A wreath rests on the plaza of the Rice County Veterans' Memorial which is expanding from the Civil War Monument which has long graced the courthouse grounds.

Flags fly at half-staff at the Rice County courthouse.

TO READ A STORY I WROTE about my father, which was published in the book God Answers Prayers Military Edition: True Stories from People Who Serve and Those Who Love Them, click on this link:

http://www.harvesthousepublishers.com/texts/excerpts/9780736916660_exc.htm

Scroll to my story, Faith and Hope in a Land of Heartbreak. This shares the heart-wrenching experiences of my soldier-father and is my tribute to him. This was published in 2005 by Harvest House Publishers, two years after his death.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Oh, how I love thee, sweet peony May 19, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:37 AM
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THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT PEONIES that enchants me unlike any other flower of spring.

Their intoxicating scent invites me to lean in close and breathe deeply.

They remind me, too, of vintage sepia photographs I’ve seen of brides enfolding peonies gathered from grandmothers’ gardens. These blossoms speak to me of romance and of love.

And they speak to me of the history in this town I’ve called home for 28 years. Beginning in 1927, Faribault was the “Peony Capital of the World,” celebrated with an annual festival and parade. I’ve seen images of floats blanketed with peonies by the hundreds, by the thousands. Long gone are the masses of peonies.

But, oh, how fabulous that must have been, to celebrate the peony, to inhale their sweet perfume wafting through the city streets.

In my backyard, a fern peony bud, April 16

Fern peony bud, April 30

Fern peony bud, May 5

Fern peony in bloom, May 17

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

I meet the face of homelessness in Faribault May 17, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:22 AM
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ON SUNDAY, I CAME face to face with homelessness for the first time.

Sure, I’d read the news stories and statistics. But in the deepest depths, I never quite believed that homelessness exists in Rice County. We are, after all, out-state Minnesota and not “the Cities.”

However, that naïve thinking—or perhaps it is more an attitude of not wanting to believe—changed when I met a homeless woman after Sunday morning worship services at the Lutheran church I attend in Faribault.

When the middle-aged woman and her companion, a young man perhaps in his late 20s or early 30s, walk into the nearly-empty narthex, I can’t help but notice them. In their worn, casual attire, they don’t really fit in.

Even writing that last sentence, I feel profoundly judgmental. I have just come from a contemporary “Connection” service where I’ve sung about embracing others. Although I can’t recall the exact words, I remember the line about a strange woman slipping into the pews and the staring glances of faithful worshippers.

I will admit that on Sunday morning I am more cautious than welcoming.

As the woman enters the narthex, I approach her because, clearly, she is looking for someone. “Can I help you?” I ask as she walks toward me. Her male friend (or maybe he is her son) is already half way across the room. I am keeping a distrustful eye on him. Earlier this year, a stranger prowled our church during worship services and stole a computer and other items. Since then, we as a congregation have been on watchful alert.

As I am thinking all of this, the woman asks to speak with the pastor, whom she met in March. “Which pastor?” I inquire, giving their names.

She doesn’t remember, but I tell her I will take her to the pastor. As we head toward his office, she explains how she already has been to another church in town that morning seeking help. She found none there, although she says she got a doughnut. That pastor had left for the day.

I am surprised that she shares this information and her first name. Perhaps she is trying to emphasize her desperate situation.

She talks about a man who “tricked” her and something about the wife he is divorcing and that’s why she is without a place to live. I don’t quite understand the situation. But rather than probe, which would be typical of me and my inquisitive nature, I keep quiet.

She seems to need a listening ear and I can at least give her that, and her dignity.

Then she apologizes for her comments. I tell her she’s entitled.

We are walking through the gym now where volunteers are setting up food for an afternoon reception. “Are you having a lunch here?” she asks, the new optimism in her voice noticeable.

“Oh, it’s a reception for someone who’re retiring,” I reply, knowing full well that’s she’s likely hungry. I wish I could offer her some food, but I don’t feel it’s my right to do so.

Then we are at the main office, where the pastor is just leaving.

“These folks would like to talk to you,” I say, wishing I could remember the woman’s name. Typically, I am good at recalling names.

As I turn to leave, the pastor is already jingling his keys, opening his office door to allow the pair inside. The door closes.

I walk away, wondering about this woman and, if by failing to remember her name, it will be easier for me to dismiss her and her homelessness.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Who struck my son on May 12, 2006, in Faribault and then drove away? May 12, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:47 AM
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I have a file thick with information related to my son's hit-and-run. The file includes newspaper clippings, e-mail correspondence with the police, medical and insurance papers, get well cards and more.

EVEN AFTER FOUR YEARS I still hear the questions: “Did they ever catch the driver? How is your son doing?”

I’ll be at the grocery store, a garage sale, the library, when an acquaintance, out of the blue, asks. That interest all these years later catches me by surprise; people, clearly, have not forgotten.

Four years ago today on May 12, a cold and drizzly Friday morning much like today, my then 12-year-old son was struck by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street to his school bus stop in Faribault.

Caleb was not seriously injured considering that he bounced off a car, flew through the air and landed in the street. He suffered a broken bone in his hand, a possible fractured rib and bumps and bruises. However, the long-term affects on his health remain unknown.

Four years later, Faribault police are no closer to solving the crime than they were in 2006.

Initially, several tips came in to the police department. Once, my hopes were raised when a suspect was named in an anonymous letter. That turned out to be an issue of alleged harassment by one person against another and had nothing to do with my son’s case.

Police have checked out vehicles matching the description of the blue 4-door car, possibly a Chevrolet Cavalier or Corsica. Once they even met with a prisoner regarding a car that fit the crime.  All leads have dead-ended.

No one has stepped forward with concrete evidence that ties a driver to the scene near my home, even though a $1,000 reward was initially offered in the case.

I am surprised, really, that the driver who struck my son and then drove away has not talked or confessed. I cannot imagine the guilt of carrying that secret.

While, early on, I was angry and wanted nothing more than to find the driver and hold him/her accountable, now I am more interested in hearing “why.” I want to ask, “Why did you drive away, leaving my boy, my only son, lying there? How could you?” As a mother, I find that action unfathomable.

The police have always contended that the driver had something to hide, a strong reason to continue driving.

I would like answers, and, yes, in all honesty, accountability.

#

A POEM THAT I’ve written related to my son’s hit-and-run recently earned honorable mention in a state-wide competition. Hit-and-Run will publish in The Talking Stick, Volume Nineteen, Forgotten Roads, due out in August from the northern Minnesota based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. My poem finished in the top seven among more than 200 poems submitted in this literary journal competition.

Although the subtitle was not chosen because of my poem, I find Forgotten Roads quite fitting for an anthology that includes Hit-and-Run.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The SWAT team rendezvous in my Faribault, Minnesota, neighborhood May 4, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:19 PM
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TUESDAY EVENING I’M WATCHING American Idol when my husband suddenly leaps from his comfy spot on the couch to peer out the window.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond.

I can see only the tail end of a brown car parked in the street.

“The SWAT team is out there,” he says.

The SWAT team leads a team of law enforcement officials in Faribault Tuesday evening.

I grab my camera, which is sitting nearby. Sure enough, armored men, thick as flies, cling to the side of a vehicle that leads a procession—an ERU (which I think means “Emergency Response Unit”) vehicle, a Rice County sheriff’s squad and several Faribault police cars.

They turn at the corner by my neighbor’s house and head up and over the steep hill on First Avenue Southwest. Through the window, I quickly snap two pictures, which don’t turn out very well given my haste and the fading light under cloudy skies.

A Rice County sheriff squad and several Faribault police cars follow the SWAT team and ERU vehicle up First Avenue Southwest in Faribault.

Soon Randy and I are slipping on our shoes and walking up the hill, although I’m thinking this isn’t the smartest thing for us to be doing given all those weapons. Half way up the hill I decide to play it safe. Randy, despite my protests, forges ahead and disappears.

“They have guns,” I yell after him.

I head back home, waiting for my curious spouse to return. Safely, I hope.

He does and reports that the action is happening about three blocks away next to Division Street near the Faribault Senior Center, where the street has been cordoned off. He can’t get any closer.

And that’s OK with me.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling