Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

From Wisconsin: A book about food, friendship, family, love, trauma & place April 2, 2025

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(Book cover sourced online)

I FOUND THE BOOK in the new fiction section of my local public library, the place where I discover reading materials that grow me, stretch me, teach me, and, yes, entertain me. The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County by Claire Swinarski fits all four of those categories. I love this book. Underline love.

I did not expect this reaction when I randomly pulled the novel from the shelf, drawn by its catchy title printed in a colorful font, drawn by the simple cover art of a lakeside Northwoods cabin. I do, indeed, judge a book by its covers, front and then back synopsis. These covers hit all the marks for me, someone who appreciates stories rooted in rural. Stories that are simple, yet complex. Stories that make me think, that tap into my empathy, that move me. Stories that are strong in place.

(Book cover sourced online)

In some ways, this book reminds me of the writing of Minnesotan Lorna Landvik, author of the popular Patty Jane’s House of Curls, The Tall Pine Polka, Once in a Blue Moon Lodge and more, most of which I have read. But the author of The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County hails from neighboring Wisconsin, which is similar to Minnesota, but different.

These are what we call bars (the kind you eat) in Minnesota and Wisconsin. Maybe elsewhere. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

At the heart of this story are the funeral ladies, a group of long-time friends who prepare meals for mourners at St. Anne’s Catholic Church. Casseroles—not hotdish as we call casseroles in Minnesota—concocted with canned cream soups. Shredded beef. Peanut butter bars. Pies made with Door County cherries. Food for the body and soul. This reminded me of the Reception Committee in my childhood home church on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. That group of Lutheran women prepared funeral hotdishes comprised of hamburger, pasta, a vegetable and assorted canned cream soups with salt and pepper for seasoning. The recipes are published in the 1985 St. John’s Anniversary Cookbook. The covers of that cookbook have fallen off my tattered copy. A cookbook is central to Swinarski’s novel.

The point here is that The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County is absolutely relatable for me. I felt comfortably at home with the story initially, even when I learned of a heartbreaking scam involving main character Esther Larson. That shapes the story. Then the story-line focus shifts from friendship, faith and family to tough topics after a Food Network star and his children arrive to bury his estranged wife in her hometown.

Mental health gets attention in this book. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Without revealing too much of the plot, know that family relationships, love and trauma weave into this novel. That trauma is post traumatic stress disorder, experienced by paramedic Cooper Welsh after participating in a holiday parade interrupted by a deadly shooting. In real-life, six people died in November 2021 when a driver plowed his SUV into a Christmas parade in Waukesha, Wisconsin, killing six and injuring many others. I expect Swinarski patterned her fictional tragedy loosely after this event or the many other mass shootings this country experiences.

I appreciate that the author, even in this fictional account of such violence and its personal aftermath, writes with authenticity. As a reader, I felt emotionally invested. I was rooting for Cooper and for those who love him. Swinarski doesn’t just touch on PTSD. She dives into it head on, writing in her acknowledgments that she talked to individuals dealing with PTSD to craft Cooper’s life story. That research shows.

A sign along the interstate advertises Ishnala Supper Club in Lake Delton near the Wisconsin Dells. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

She writes, too, in an authentic Wisconsin voice with a strong sense of place. Noodles in chili (yes, it’s a thing in Wisconsin). Beer not wine. Brandy old-fashioneds, Wisconsin’s signature drink. Supper clubs. And eating at the popular Wisconsin-based fast food chain, Culver’s.

There are so many reasons to love The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County. Even if you’re a Lutheran from Minnesota who eats hotdishes, not casseroles.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Five especially memorable personal moments in 2024 December 31, 2024

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Time passes… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

THE END OF A YEAR always evokes a time of personal reflection. A time to consider the events, the moments, the feelings, the blessings that stood out in the 366 days passed. I’ve selected five, from the many, that happened in my life. Certainly, there’s much more that affected me personally. But these are ones that imprinted deeply upon me.

My unborn grandson’s room, photographed at Thanksgiving. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

1. A BLESSING BREWING

The year 2024 brought incredibly joyful news to my family. That news came in a six-pack of all natural & locally brewed craft beer from Big News Brewing Co. My second daughter and her husband brought the beer in August, when they arrived from Madison, Wisconsin for the annual Helbling family reunion.

I was excited to taste this beer from a new brewery (so I was told) in Madison. I pulled out a bottle, read the label, BABY Boyd IS BREWING—ARRIVING JANUARY 2025, and realized this was no ordinary beer. I was about to become a grandma for the third time. Miranda and John pulled off the surprise. I was so focused on the journalistic aspect of the Big News Brewing Co. name that I totally missed the bare baby feet graphics on the necks of the bottles. Soon that baby boy will arrive.

A message from Barb, published in the memorial folder at her funeral. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2024)

2. THE BLESSINGS OF FRIENDSHIP

On the flip side of birth is death. And in 2024, I lost a dear friend, Barb, to cancer. We have been part of the same couple’s bible study group for some 20 years. I’ve lost track. As she neared the end of life, Barb and her family opened their doors wide so family and friends could come and go. We carried in meals and, more importantly, love. Barb, no matter how awful she felt, always had time for visitors. Her strength, her unwavering faith, her cheerful attitude uplifted all of us. She understood the value in being together, of approaching death with courage and faith. Of saying goodbye.

But it was after Barb’s funeral, as her casket was wheeled out of church to the waiting hearse, that I felt the full blessings of the friendship we (and by “we” I mean our bible study group) shared. Barb had chosen the guys as pallbearers. We six women stood side-by-side waiting as our husbands gathered around the casket. I stretched out my arms, motioning for my friends to come close, to wrap our arms around one another. There we stood, a line of women linked. Linked in grief, friendship and love. It was a powerful moment.

Flags for countries of origin displayed at a past International Festival in Faribault celebrating my community’s diversity. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

3. A BLESSING FROM A NEW FRIEND

Also powerful was the moment I met a Venezuelan immigrant while on a walk in Faribault’s Central Park. Adolfo was pushing his one-year-old grandson, Milan, in a stroller when I paused to greet them. I learned that Adolfo had fled violence and Communism in his home country and wanted desperately to get his family to America. His pain was palpable. “We’re so happy to have you here,” I told my new friend. Adolfo responded with a broad smile and the words “God bless you” as he made the sign of the cross and held his hands to his heart. I will forever cherish that moment and the memories of the morning I met Adolfo and Milan in Central Park.

A graphic of the first coronavirus. Source: CDC

4. BLESSING ANOTHER

I am also grateful for the opportunities I’ve had in 2024 to encourage a young man, whom I’ll call J, in his struggles with long haul COVID. A friend, after a short conversation in a grocery store parking lot, connected me to J’s mom and from there the door was opened. I understand how devastating this diagnosis. I spent six months in vestibular rehab therapy in 2023 trying to overcome the many debilitating symptoms of long haul COVID. I’m better now, but still experience residual, primarily with sensory overload issues.

J’s case is much more severe than mine, especially physically. He had to drop out of college, used a wheelchair, struggled with overwhelming symptoms too numerous to mention. I tried to offer him hope, support and encouragement. Empathy, compassion and understanding. I also referred him to my physical therapist, whom J is now seeing. Few people understand this chronic condition, or even make an effort to understand, which makes working through long haul COVID even harder. That I could take my experiences and help J, and his mom, has helped me, too. I can see the good in a very difficult year in my life when I was basically home-bound. Empathy and the capacity to help others grows with each challenge we face in life.

Randy and I with the mandala our son crafted for us. (Copyrighted photo by Caleb Helbling)

5. BLESSED WITH LOVE

Finally, my last memorable moment of 2024 came just recently with a Christmas gift from my son, who was visiting from Boston. Caleb gifted Randy and me with a mandala he laser cut from plywood, stained and glued together. Six layers. When I realized what it was, I wept. I cried because of the love Caleb’s gift represents. I cried because I recognized the time, effort and thought he put into crafting this artwork for us. Hearts theme the piece. It speaks “family.” If art can capture love, this mandala holds endless love.

And so 2024 ends. A year that brought joy and sadness. But also a year overflowing with love…from family to friends to community.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“Charlotte’s Web” on-stage in Faribault, my take on this classic October 18, 2024

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The promotional poster for the local production of “Charlotte’s Web.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2024)

THE CLASSIC CHILDREN’S BOOK, Charlotte’s Web, comes alive at the Paradise Center for the Arts in Faribault beginning Friday evening, October 18. I was among a theater full of guests who attended the final dress rehearsal on Thursday. Tickets are selling quickly for the six performances. That’s no surprise given the popularity of the Newbery Honor book penned in 1952 by E.B. White and illustrated by Garth Williams (of Laura Ingalls Wilder illustration notoriety). The book holds universal, long-lasting appeal.

Children and their families glazed these Wilbur medallions at the Paradise Center for the Arts during a special event with funding from a Faribault Foundation micro community grant. Participating kids also got free tickets to the play. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2024)

To see White’s story about Wilbur the pig, Charlotte the spider and Fern, the young girl who loved them both, played out on stage proved entertaining and enjoyable. Entertaining in how the play was presented by a talented Paradise Community Theatre cast of nearly 30 ranging from newbies to seasoned performers of multiple generations. Enjoyable in that a good retelling of a classic book which sticks to the story line is always a delight.

I found this personalized book plate inside a copy of “Charlotte’s Web” at Buckham Memorial Library, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2024)

Sam Temple, himself a seasoned actor, directed the play, assisted by his mom, Linda Temple. As Sam shares the Temple family backstory, Charlotte’s Web is his mom’s favorite book, one she read repeatedly as a farm girl and then later read with students in her classroom. Sam grew up knowing Wilbur, Charlotte and Fern. That personal connection, that love of the book, shows in the performance.

(Book cover image sourced online)

The part that really stood out for me is the incorporation of digital technology with pages from the book projected onto a screen behind the performers. Those pages, sometimes text only, other times illustrations only, drew me into the book as did occasional narrated excerpts. This truly was literary, visual and performing arts melding to create a unique, immersive experience. Add in the superior surround sound (complete with chirping crickets) and performers sometimes acting in the theater aisles, and I felt very much a part of the story. I was there in the barn, at the county fair, the settings for the two-act, nearly 90-minute play.

A section of the PCA window display promoting the local production. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2024)

The story of Charlotte’s Web, at its core, is about friendship. Charlotte spins words into her webs in an effort to save Wilbur, her new barn friend, from slaughter. The word-filled webs become a local attraction and Wilbur’s life is eventually spared.

The handcrafted medallion depicts the friendship between Wilbur and Charlotte. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2024)

Words. As I, a wordsmith, sat in my theater seat listening to the words spoken/read on stage, jotting some in my notebook, I contemplated how much words matter. Charlotte wove “Some pig,” “terrific,” “radiant,” “humble” into her webs. Powerful words. Words with depth. Words worth pondering. Especially today, when negative and degrading words often fly too easily. I couldn’t help but note the arrogance of self-centered Uncle, a pig vying against Wilbur for a blue ribbon at the county fair. He was decidedly full of himself.

For a while, I thought the same of Templeton, a main character in the book and play. But then I changed my mind, considering the barn rat more confident than self-centered. I found myself really liking this outspoken, sly, even funny, character who assisted Charlotte by finding words for her to weave into her webs. Friendships developed inside the barn, home to pig and spider, rat and geese, lamb and sheep.

Mostly, this play is about friendship. At show’s end, Fern calls Charlotte “a true friend and a good writer” who taught her bravery. But this play is also about acceptance. When Charlotte experienced an adverse reaction to revealing that she eats flies, she stood up for herself. “That’s the way I’m made,” Charlotte told her friends. “I can’t help it.” How wise that spider.

And then this line from Charlotte resonated: “People are not as smart as bugs.”

This play by the Paradise Community Theatre really does appeal to all ages. Kids may not catch everything we adults do. But that’s OK. Perhaps they shouldn’t. They have their entire lives to figure out that life is much more complicated than simply a story about a spider, a pig and the girl who loved them.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The power of faith & friendship when facing loss May 9, 2024

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I laid this memorial service folder for my friend Barb upon one of my vintage tablecloths. (Minnesota Prairie Roots May 2024)

WE STOOD SIDE-BY-SIDE, arms stretched around one another, watching as our husbands carried the gray casket and slid it into the waiting hearse. Six friends grieving the death of a seventh.

The day before her 73rd birthday, my friend Barb died from cancer. And here I was a week later, standing outside Trinity Lutheran Church, linked to the women beside me in grief and in love.

My emotions ran high on this beautiful May morning of sunshine and greening spring, of new life rising from the earth on the Monday Barb was laid to rest beneath the earth. I understood she was at peace, in her heavenly home, and that consoled me as tears fell.

Family and friends of Barb were gifted with these nail crosses after her funeral. The cross reinforced the sermon, titled “Nailed It.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

Her service was signature Barb, one she planned. One that proclaimed her strong faith in words and in music. Oh, so much music, because Barb loved music. Our friend Steve sang “Who Am I?” Friend Char slid her bow across her violin, accompanying children as they sang “Jesus Loves Me” and later as mourners sang one of my favorite contemporary Christian songs, “10,000 Reasons.” Galen played “Beautiful Savior” on his harmonica, another favorite of mine and of my dear friend Barb. There was more music, so much that Barb wanted, some of which had to be trimmed lest the service got overly long.

Sitting in the front pew, just steps from Barb’s casket, I immersed myself in the service. I laughed when her brother-in-law Dave, the presiding pastor, shared that Barb instructed him to “shake them up” with his sermon. He did. When he spoke of hell and then abruptly stopped and sat down, I wondered if he was so overcome with emotion that he needed to pause. Not so. It was that “shake them up” moment Barb requested. He returned to the pulpit to finish his sermon with loving words of grace.

Our bible study group gifted this garden stone and pansy bowl in Barb’s favorite purple to her family. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)

Barb loved her Lord, her family, her friends, old-time TV shows (particularly “Andy Griffith” and “The Beverly Hillbillies”) and the color purple. There was purple everywhere—flowers, ties, dress shirts, table coverings. Purple overflowed alongside love. Love in so many hugs. Love in words spoken by Barb’s eldest son. Love from God. Love surrounding us.

During the final weeks of her life, Barb continued to love on all of us, even as she lay bed-ridden. I would drop off a meal for her family, hoping to uplift my friend. And she uplifted me. She, who was dying. She never let me leave without kissing my cheek. I hold that precious memory now, the warmth of her lips pressed against my skin. To have that time with her to say goodbye eased me into her death. This time was a gift, as Barb’s husband, my friend Mike, reminded me, reminded all of us.

A loving message from Barb, printed in her memorial folder.

Barb gave so much, even in choosing the men who would carry her casket—Randy, John, Steve, Noel, Mark and Jeff. All of us friends, together in a long-time Bible study group. Twenty years of reading and studying God’s Word, of praying for one another, of growing in our faith and friendship. We have been through a lot together. Uplifted one another.

And here we were on this lovely spring morning, walking into church together behind the casket, behind the cross. Filling two pews at the front of the church. Listening and singing and crying and laughing. And then later filing out, waiting silently in the narthex, then outside. Reverently.

As the six guys moved toward the casket, we wives gathered on the side and I instinctively motioned for Debbie, Jackie, Mari, Mandy and Sonja to come closer. I needed to feel their closeness, the strength that comes from love and friendship in shared grief. It was a powerful and emotional moment standing together in a row, arms wrapped around one another. I felt Barb’s love embracing us. I heard her words, too: I thank Him for each of you. Our family and friends, I love you!

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NOTE: I will miss my friend Barb and other loved ones I’ve lost in 2024: Uncle Robin; my brother-in-law Dale; and Aunt Jeanette. This has been a season of grief.

 

In which I learn about African culture & make new friends in my community February 19, 2024

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This welcoming sign was posted on the door of a downtown Faribault business in 2018. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2018)

IN A VALENTINE’S DAY post last week, I focused on connecting in everyday life, on hugging all of humanity. Those words proved prophetic for me personally. And I am the better, the richer, for the insights I learned, the connections I made, during a February 15 talk by a Minnesota college professor, cultural consultant and author at Books on Central in Faribault.

Author Joseph L. Mbele, photographed at the International Festival Faribault in 2015. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2015)

Joseph L. Mbele was the featured speaker at this public event highlighting cultural differences. Faribault is a culturally-diverse community, home to many immigrants, including significant Somali and Hispanic populations. And that has all too often created tension between locals and those who now call my southern Minnesota city home. Mbele recognizes that and has worked with community leaders, business owners and others in Faribault and neighboring cities to raise awareness of cultural differences and bridge the gaps which divide us.

Via storytelling, humor and insightful perspectives as someone who grew up in Tanzania and has lived in the U.S. for 32 years, Mbele riveted the attention of the group gathered in the used bookshop run by Rice County Area United Way. Rather than fully recap Mbele’s presentation, I want to focus on the personal interactions I experienced with two young Somali men in attendance.

This teen represented Somalia (blue flag with a white star) at the International Festival Faribault in 2015. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2015)

When I arrived at the bookstore, I settled onto a folding chair next to Solomon, as I heard it, (or perhaps correctly Sulaiman/Suleiman; I didn’t ask for the spelling of his name). I can’t sit next to someone and not engage in conversation. I soon learned that Sulaiman, 34, came to the U.S. from Somali at age 14, graduated from Faribault High School, played soccer on the fields by the junior high, has a wife in Somalia (the process is lengthy to bring her to the U.S., he said), works as an over-the-road trucker and has a job interview with a local company this week. Any business would be fortunate to have him on their team. He impressed me with his friendly personality, wide smile and openness. Sulaiman reflected what Joseph Mbele stated earlier about Africans being highly-social, desiring to be around and engage with other people.

I felt thankful to learn from my new friend that he hasn’t faced many challenges as a native Somalian living in Faribault. I didn’t have the heart to share the negative comments I’ve heard about Somalians. I focused instead on getting to know this delightful young man pressed next to me in a row of folding chairs in the cozy bookshop.

Banadir, a Somali restaurant and grocery, is located in historic downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2011)

Throughout Mbele’s talk highlighting African culture like African time (versus American time when everyone is on time), sidewalk gatherings to share news and to socialize, the social importance of food and music among Africans, the value of coming together and much more, I felt the sense of understanding unfolding. Laughter erupted often. Heads nodded. Questions surfaced during discussion. It felt good to be part of this gathering, to learn, to connect. I love that Mbele addressed bookstore volunteer Dave Campbell as “brother.” That endearing name shows that Mbele values Campbell and their personal connection. They are friends.

A diverse group attended a past International Festival Faribault, here observing the flag ceremony. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2015)

And I felt, too, that I’d made a new friend in Sulaiman and, afterwards his brother, Ibrahim (again, I’m uncertain on the name spelling), also in attendance. As I retreated to the rear of the bookstore to grab a sweet treat and refill my water glass, Ibrahim approached and we chatted. He extended his hand in a handshake, significant because Muslims typically would not shake a woman’s hand. Mbele explained earlier the separation of men and women is not one of disrespect but faith-based and cultural.

A sign photographed at a past International Festival Faribault, where I first tasted sambusa. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Ibrahim and I talked only briefly. He was, like his brother, warm, engaging, friendly. I remember him telling me that food brings people together, that he likes pizza. And I replied that I like sambusa, a Somali triangle-shaped pastry stuffed with spicy meat. We laughed. Earlier he invited those attending the bookshop gathering to visit Somali restaurants and shops in downtown Faribault.

And then Ibrahim asked, “Can I hug you?” Of course. We embraced right there in the back of the United Way bookshop. I felt such warmth, such affection, for this young man I’d just met. There were no cultural differences between us. We were simply two individuals who respected and appreciated one another. United by our humanity.

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Jospeh Mbele’s latest book, an easy and informative read. (Book cover sourced online)

FYI: I’d encourage you to read any or all of the books written by Joseph L. Mbele: Africans and Americans: Embracing Cultural Differences; Chickens in the Bus: More Thoughts on Cultural Differences; and Matengo Folktales. This professor at St. Olaf College in Northfield is a gifted storyteller and writer. I’d also encourage you, if you live in my area, to shop at Books on Central. All proceeds from book sales go to the Rice County Area United Way and help people and organizations in my area.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An idea: Showing kindness on St. Patrick’s Day March 15, 2023

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In March 2015, friends planted shamrocks in my yard on St. Patrick’s Day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2015)

WITH TWO DAYS until St. Patrick’s Day, there’s still time to pull off some leprechaun magic. The type of magic that will bring joy into someone’s day, just like it did mine eight years ago.

Let me explain by first qualifying that I am neither Catholic nor Irish. But I do like the color green. In fact, it’s my favorite hue. And I do have some really loving friends.

The scene in my yard on St. Patrick’s Day 2015. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2015)

On St. Patrick’s Day 2015, I opened my living room curtains to a field of shamrocks planted in my yard. I dashed outside on that sunny March morning without an inch of snow on the ground (yes, unbelievable in Minnesota) to solve the mystery.

The leprechaun even shamrocked our van. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2015)

My route took me through the garage and past our van parked in the driveway. Tucked behind a windshield wiper was a shamrock. Onward I went toward that field of green, centered by one oversized three-leaf clover. I’VE BEEN SHAM ‘ROCK’ED read a printed message on that central shamrock.

Immediately I suspected one of two young families. It didn’t take long to determine that Jesse and Tammy and kids had undertaken this St. Patrick’s Day surprise. Young Jack signed his name with his words, “You are smart.” Oh, Jack, you little leprechaun.

This sign explained what was happening in my yard on St. Patrick’s Day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2015)

The happiness I felt, the overwhelming love I felt for these dear, caring friends touched me in a way that left me smiling all day. That they would craft these paper shamrocks and then volunteer Jesse to sneak into our yard before daybreak, before he commuted to his job in the metro, to plant these clovers impressed me. What kindness. What love.

I realize the time remaining until St. Patrick’s Day is short. But if you have the time and inclination, I encourage you to “shamrock” a neighbor, a friend, anyone in need of a little joy. Personalize the shamrocks with messages that uplift. I assure you, the recipient will feel gratitude for your loving act of kindness. I did. Eight years later, that March 17 remains memorable. I was gifted not with the luck of the Irish, although shamrocks symbolize good luck, but rather with happiness by a friendly family of leprechauns.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Beyond books: Connecting at the library January 3, 2023

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Buckham Memorial Library, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2022)

I MET HER AT BUCKHAM Memorial Library on the final day of 2022 in front of the “Lucky Day” shelves. The two-unit section—one for fiction, one for nonfiction—features newly-released titles immediately available to library patrons. No reserving or waiting, just the luck of finding a new book on the shelves.

As I browsed the fiction, I noticed her approach from the right, pushing a walker. I scooted a tad to the left, giving her more space. I wanted her to feel comfortable as we stood side-by-side.

I don’t recall which of us spoke first, but I think I did. I rarely remain silent in the closeness of strangers. And she was close.

(Photo credit: Goodreads)

“Have you read that book?” I asked, pointing to Three Sisters by Heather Morris. She hadn’t. But she’d read The Tattooist of Auschwitz, also by Morris. I hadn’t. We talked about the books briefly, about the difficulty of reading these fictional stories of concentration camp atrocities. Yet, we agreed reading them was important, perhaps even necessary. She directed me toward the fiction section, strongly suggesting I check out The Tattooist. Now. I’d already learned this woman beside me was opinionated and strong.

I felt her eyes following me to the fiction shelves. “Did you find it?” she asked upon my return. When I shook my head no, my new book-loving friend called out to the reference desk librarian to find the missing book for me. The computer showed the book was lost. He ordered it from another library.

In the meantime, I indulged this older book lover as she handed me two novels pulled from the “Lucky Day” fiction shelves—Joy Fielding’s The Housekeeper and B.A. Paris’ The Prisoner. “Have you read these?” she asked. I hadn’t and accepted her choices. Turns out she likes thrillers and mysteries as much as I do, even referencing Nancy Drew as the books which long ago sparked her interest in mysteries. Those teen mysteries did the same for me. Her recommendation of The Prisoner, a psychological thriller, proved an excellent read. I finished it in three days. She also recommended New York Times bestselling author C.J. Box. I had too many books already, so tucked that name into my memory.

A section of my poem selected for publication in “This Was 2020…” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Next I’ll move on to The Housekeeper, the other psychological suspense novel she chose for me, ironically with a character named Audrey. I told the book enthusiast that I am a writer and that since she selected two books for me, I wanted her to read an anthology that includes a poem I wrote. I struggled to remember the lengthy name of This Was 2020—Minnesotans Write About Pandemics and Social Justice in a Historic Year, a collection of poems and short stories published by the Ramsey County Library. But I remembered enough for the reference librarian to find the book on his computer and then on the shelves. I thumbed through the pages until I found Funeral During a Pandemic. “That’s me, my poem,” I pointed. We conversed briefly about the difficulties of my father-in-law’s funeral during the COVID-19 pandemic. I didn’t tell her that my mom died in January 2022, at the height of omicron, in a time when most people were no longer masking and large funerals were allowed. I could have penned a sequel poem.

A Boomerang Bag available to patrons at Buckham Memorial Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2018)

Eventually we parted, me lugging a cloth Boomerang bag weighted by books, she shoving her walker with books inside a plastic bag. When I later aimed back toward the check out desk, she called out, “Can you mail this for me?” She thrust a bright yellow envelope toward my outstretched hand. I agreed to mail the get well card to her niece who’d fallen on the ice.

She left the library and I soon followed with my bag of books. She maneuvered beside a car parked in a handicap space. Even though offered assistance to wrangle her walker into a weathered white late 1980s K car, she refused. She had this. But she did express concern about navigating an icy patch of pavement leading to and next to her car. She feared falling and breaking bones, something that’s happened thrice already. I empathized, sharing that I’d also had a hip replacement and broken bones twice during falls. “We’re sisters,” I laughed. But I meant it. We share a broken bone history, a love of books and a habit of mailing greeting cards to those who are celebrating or grieving or in need of encouragement.

Some of the get well cards I received after a bone break. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

“I love that you’re sending a get well card to your niece,” I said, waving the yellow envelope. I like to send cards, too. I’ll be sure to mail this.”

She replied, “I’m old school. I don’t even have a computer.”

“I need one to do my work—to write.”

“I always wanted to be a writer,” she blurted.

“It’s not too late,” I encouraged. A look flashed across her face, albeit briefly. A flash of possibility.

I had one final question. “What’s your name?”

“Noreen.” (Or maybe it’s Norene; I didn’t ask for the spelling.)

I don’t recall our parting words. But it doesn’t matter. I’d made a new book-loving, opinionated friend who dreamed of becoming a writer. It was, indeed, my lucky day at the library.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A token of friendship & thoughts thereon October 24, 2022

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots edited and copyrighted photo October 2022)

GLINT OF SUNSHINE on metal caught his eye while mowing lawn. Five feet from the stop sign, Randy found the quarter-sized round in the grass. A friendship token with a center butterfly cut-out.

Like a writing prompt, my mind wandered to the story behind the token in our yard. How had it gotten there? When? Why? Plots form. Characters emerge. Tension builds.

I imagine the metal circle tossed by an angry friend. I picture friends—pre-teen or teen girls, simply because the token seems like something that age demographic would value—arguing. Perhaps their disagreement was over a boy or some weighty matter like name-calling or something trivial. No matter the reason, it was enough for one to fling the symbol of friendship onto a stranger’s lawn.

Or perhaps the coin was simply lost, fallen from a pocket. That scenario feels better, even if loss never feels good. I expect the physical reminder of friendship provided comfort and reassurance. Touch the coin when stressed, when missing a friend, when needing a moment of connection to someone who cares about you and loves you.

Friendships, no matter our ages, hold such importance. These are our people—those who get us, support us, encourage us, care about us, hold us dear. I cherish friends, from those who are on the level of just beyond everyday acquaintances to those with whom I can share anything and trust that they will listen, keep confidences and be there for me in joyful as well as challenging times. I reciprocate.

EVER-CHANGING

Certainly, friends come and go. The friends I had in grade school through college are mostly now friendships of memory. Memories of jumping rope during recess, dining at Club 59 in Marshall senior year and sitting cross-legged on dorm beds far away from home, our worlds opening wide. These friends will always hold a piece of my heart.

Moves, life changes, circumstances, differences and more change friendships, grow friendships, end friendships. That’s a given in life.

Technology has changed how we connect, form relationships. Through blogging, I’ve grown some close friendships with other bloggers. I never expected this, to first connect online and then develop friendships (think visiting one another, dining together, emailing one another and more). It’s wonderful, this widening of my friends circle. That circle is large, encompassing friends now from New York, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Texas, even the Netherlands, and other locales, including many places in Minnesota.

ACCEPTING, LOVING, SUPPORTIVE

Life is hard. There’s no denying that we all face challenges at some point in life. But true friends lighten those struggles by their simple, non-judgmental presence, by their support and encouragement. Family histories, grievances and experiences don’t get in the way. These are our friends. Pure. Simple. They accept and love us as we are, for who we are.

I may not carry a friendship token in my pocket. But I understand its symbolism, its importance. I hope whoever lost or tossed that metal circle into my yard has reclaimed her friendship or realized the friendship was not worth continuing. Sometimes that’s the hard truth, too, that not all individuals should remain our friends. Sometimes the friendship token needs to be tossed into a stranger’s yard, left behind so we can move forward.

TELL ME: How do you define friendship and how has it changed for you through the years?

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

With gratitude to an anonymous friend May 20, 2022

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Love in three languages along the Virtues Trail in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2018)

THE GREETING CARD arrived in a non-descript blue envelope, our names and address printed in reddish marker. No return address, only a flower sticker in the upper left corner. A Saint Paul, MN postmark with a May 13, 2022, date inked the paper next to a floral postage stamp. And, on the back, an artsy heart sticker graced the envelope flap.

I expected to find a card inside wishing Randy and me the best on our 40th wedding anniversary. I was right on that. I appreciated the verse focused on God’s blessings and a prayer for continued blessings in our lives.

From an anonymous friend, an anniversary wish and gift. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)

But I did not expect the anonymous signature—A friend—or a faith-themed post-it note attached to a $20 bill. That note suggested we treat ourselves, perhaps to Dairy Queen ice cream, and to enjoy our day(s).

The thoughtfulness of this anonymous friend (whom I suspect reads this blog) touched me deeply. There are moments in life when we all need an extra hug, extra words of encouragement, extra kindness. For me, that moment is now. This year, thus far, has proven challenging with the death of my mom in January and recently the news that my husband will be losing his job of 39 years due to a change in business ownership and closure of the automotive machine shop.

A Peanut Buster Parfait from DQ. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

So, when that surprise anniversary card and cash gift arrived, I felt a surge of gratitude for the reminder that others care, that I am blessed by a loving and caring husband of 40 years, that God will, and always has, given us the strength we need to face and work through life’s difficulties.

While walking a recreational trail in Madison, Wisconsin, when my son lived in the Atwood Neighborhood there, I spotted this wonderfully uplifting message. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Many times in my life, I’ve been uplifted by others. I’ve tried to do the same. When someone is struggling or celebrating, I acknowledge that. We all need to be heard, understood, loved, cared for, uplifted. Appreciated. Valued. Encouraged.

The Betty, from The S’Cream in Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

And today, because of that anonymous friend—who’s apparently read on this blog that Randy and I treat ourselves to Dairy Queen Peanut Buster Parfaits twice a year (upon opening and closing of the local franchise)—I feel especially cared for. When I taste the sweetness of ice cream, either from DQ or from our favorite area ice cream shop, The S’Cream in Owatonna, I will taste, too, the sweetness of love sent by an anonymous friend.

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TELL ME: How has someone encouraged you in life? Or how have you encouraged someone? I’d like to hear your stories.

I’d like to thank you, my readers, for your kindness, generosity and encouragement through the years. What a blessing you have been in my life.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A one-of-a-kind loving keepsake honoring my mom February 17, 2022

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The book cover features a loving quote and my mom’s favorite flower, the iris. To the left, along the spine, is an empty locket for me to place pictures inside. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

THOSE WE LOVE stay forever in our hearts.

The first page features a photocopied photo of my mom holding newborn me. I have only a few photos from my early childhood, this one my most treasured. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

What beautiful, meaningful and heartfelt words. That message titles a 10-page mini altered book crafted by my dear friend Kathleen upon the recent death of my mom. The book arrived unexpectedly from Kathleen’s secluded cabin studio in Idaho on a February morning, when I most needed it.

Kathleen includes this photocopied picture of my mom on her last Mother’s Day in 2021 and posted on the Parkview Nursing Home Facebook page. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

I settled into a comfy chair, paging through the book as tears fell. Soon I was sobbing.

Me with my mom in a photo taken several years ago. The words are in my printing, from a Mother’s Day card I made for Mom as a young child. The blue flower tucked into the lavender pocket graced the front of that card. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

Kathleen, using carefully selected photos pulled from my blog, inspirational quotes and poems, recycled materials and more, created a book reflecting my mom. From Mom’s faith to her love of irises to our mother-daughter bond to her rural background and more, this book lovingly honors my mother.

It is a treasure, an absolute treasure, now cherished.

This is a special memory of my mom. On our birthdays, she baked a homemade chocolate cake and then crafted it into an animal shape following instructions in the “Animal Cut-Up Cake” booklet. We chose which animal we wanted. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

My long-time friend, once the children’s librarian in Faribault, never met Mom. But you’d never realize that by seeing this visual memoir. That’s a tribute to Kathleen, a kind, caring and compassionate soul who truly listens, whose empathy runs deep, whose heart overflows with goodness and love.

A cross hugging a corner of the last page represents Mom’s strong faith. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

Kathleen has read my blog posts about Mom through the years. She’s viewed the photos I’ve posted (and some I sent to her), from past until recently. She understood the essence of my mother—her strong faith, her farm background, her love of family, her compassion for others, and more.

The book includes a copy of a photo I took of Mom’s “The Good Shepherd” framed print, a 1954 wedding gift to my parents from Dad’s Uncle Walter Arndt. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

No detail went unnoticed by my friend in creating this work of art. In a mini-bottle attached to the book, “Amazing Grace” labels a music scroll. That was among three hymns sung at Mom’s funeral. Polka dotted ribbon and paper frame two family photos, matching the polka dotted blanket covering my Mom’s lap and the polka dots decorating her great grandson’s birthday cake in two images. A swatch of gold lace mimics the frame of my mom’s “The Good Shepherd” print which now hangs on my dining room wall. Kathleen incorporated selected “good shepherd” verses from John 10 (read at the funeral) into the book along with a photo of that cherished print.

Two pages are devoted to the grandmother-grandchild relationship, featured in this copied photo of my three children taken in 2015. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

Words cannot fully convey my gratitude to Kathleen for crafting this keepsake. It is, for me, a love-filled book to be shared with my children and grandchildren. Sweet memories of my mom, their grandmother and great grandmother. My three now-grown children are connected to Kathleen also, my daughters once working as library pages and attending teen events under her supervision and my son as a young boy asking her to find space-themed and other books for him.

Kathleen left Faribault years ago with her dear husband, Justin. But we remain deeply connected. Connected via our shared love of words and writing and reading and poetry and libraries. Connected via our shared values and genuine compassion for others. Connected via her connection to my children as they were growing, developing. And now that has extended to the next generation. Geographically, we are distanced from one another. But our friendship remains rooted, strong, enduring. Miles matter not.

And when Those we love stay forever in our hearts arrived from 1,400 miles away, I felt as if Kathleen had stopped by to give me a hug. Such are my loving thoughts upon embracing this comforting keepsake crafted by my dear dear friend.

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NOTE: Several years back, Kathleen created an altered (much larger) book all about me. It tells my life story. As with the book about my mom, Kathleen tapped into my blog for images and information. My friend, even without that resource, knows me well. That book, too, is a treasure, deeply cherished.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling