AS SUMMER COZIES INTO AUTUMN and temps drop, I pull out the fleece, flannel and sweaters, wrapping myself in warmth. And in the evening, when I settle in to read a book, I snuggle under a throw or an afghan.
Those images came to me as I meandered recently around Bridge Square in Northfield where crocheted art wraps the rough bark of tree trunks.
This is the “Friendship Trees” project, an effort of the local Hispanic community to share beauty and friendship, according to Mar Valdecantos, director of Rice County Neighbors United, the lead on this artistic endeavor. Grants from the Southern Minnesota Initiative Foundation and the Southeastern Minnesota Arts Council funded the project.
But these crocheted pieces created by 39 individuals rooted in nine countries is about much more than beauty and friendship. This is also about healing, specifically recovering from the trauma of federal immigration enforcement in Minnesota last winter. Although dubbed Operation Metro Surge, the lengthy, targeted Immigration and Customs Enforcement operations in my state impacted communities far beyond the metro area, including Northfield.
If you’ve ever crocheted, you understand that rhythmically working a crochet hook through yarn calms and soothes. Gathering to crochet in the arts space at Northfield’s Mercado Local helped ease the anxiety many in the Hispanic community were feeling, and continue to feel, over immigration enforcement, Valdecantos noted in an email.
As I wandered among the many artsy trees, I thought of all those fingers manipulating yarn to create something beautiful and meaningful from emotional trauma. I expect every artist intentionally crocheted art with meaning.
Some intent seems obvious to me. Flags hugging a highly-visible tree along Division Street show pride in country of origin and in America.
Monarch butterflies on another tree are symbolic of migration, solidarity, hope and resilience. Monarchs became a national symbol of resistance against ICE.
Likewise, I spotted a frog, that, too, a form of resistance with a humorous take.
A lion, I expect, is meant to stand for bravery, fierceness, the power of standing strong.
All around Bridge Square, which centers Northfield’s downtown along the Cannon River, these crochet-wrapped trees represent the strength, courage and resilience of the local Hispanic community. I saw that in the designs, in the bold and bright colors, and felt it simply by seeing.
Art is powerful.
These inter-generational crocheters continue to meet at Mercado Local, pulling crochet hooks through yarn, crafting not only for themselves, but also for the greater Northfield community. Connecting. Creating. Calming anxieties, building and strengthening community through art.
FYI: “Friendship Trees” is a temporary two-month art installation. I photographed the art in early September, shortly after it was installed.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
The stories of two Marthas September 19, 2025
Tags: Ariel Lawhon, books, Buckham Memorial Library, Cambodia, Camodian Genocide, commentary, Faribault, healing, historical fiction, history, Martha Ballard, Martha Brown, Minnesota, The Frozen River
HISTORY CONNECTS THE STORIES of the two Marthas. One, Martha Ballard, a midwife and the main character in a book of historical fiction, The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. The second Martha is Martha Brown, local author, educator, speaker, musician and political candidate for state representative in my district. She shared her personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on Thursday evening at the Faribault library in a presentation titled “Cambodia—Healing a Broken County.”
I’d just finished reading Lawhon’s book earlier Thursday so the commonalities between a story set in the late 1700s in postrevolutionary America and Brown’s recent trip to Cambodia connected in my mind. In both stories exist violence, trauma, strength, power and resilience within an historical context.
THE CAMBODIAN GENOCIDE
I’ll start with Brown. She focused on the time before and after the 1975-1979 Cambodian Genocide in which some 2 million Cambodians were murdered under the rule of Khmer Rouge, the Communist political party then in power. She also touched on the illegal and secret bombings of Cambodia by the U.S. in 1969 against North Vietnamese forces in Cambodia. That, too, claimed untold civilian lives.
I don’t want to get into historical details here or a political discussion about the Vietnam War. Rather, I intend the focus to be on those who suffered in Cambodia and those who survived. Just as Brown focused her hour-long talk. She arrived in Cambodia expecting to see trauma from the genocide. But instead, she said, she found recovery, healing and joy. She saw survivors of the genocide as part of the healing.
A HORRIFIC HISTORY NOT HIDDEN
The history of the genocide has not been hidden nor erased in Cambodia. “They don’t bury their history,” Brown said. I jotted that quote in my notebook, mentally connecting that to current day America and ongoing efforts by the current administration to erase/hide/rewrite history. We all know the quote—”Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”—by Spanish Philosopher George Santayana. We would do well to contemplate and hold those words close.
In her presentation, Brown did not avoid the hard topics of children recruited and indoctrinated to participate in the Cambodian Genocide killings of educators, doctors, ordinary people, even those who wore eyeglasses. Perpetrators were never punished, went back to their lives, now live among the population. This was hard stuff to hear, especially about the brainwashing of children to kill. “We need to teach our children well,” said Brown, ever the educator who cares deeply about children.
LESSONS LEARNED IN CAMBODIA
Her passion was evident as she spoke of hugging survivors, of apologizing for the U.S. bombings of Cambodia, of crying while in the southeast Asian country. She learned that how you live and treat people is more important than wealth. She learned that people can be poor and still be happy. She learned about the differences in a society that focuses on community rather than self.
When Brown’s talk ended, others shared and a few of us asked questions, including me. Mine was too political to answer in a non-political presentation. But I asked anyway about the internal and external factors contributing to the rise and fall of empires. Brown hesitated, saying only that we could draw our own conclusions from her talk.
A MUST-READ BOOK
Then I wrote “The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon” on a slip of paper. Not to give to Brown, but rather to the local director of Hope Center serving survivors and victims of sexual assault and domestic violence and their families. I handed the paper to Erica Staab-Absher after hugging her. “You need to read this book,” I said.
In this book of historical fiction, the author bases her writing on real-life midwife Martha Ballard, who documented her life in a journal. Ballard was witness to violence, sexual assault, injustices, secrets, manipulation, power, trauma and much more. This book will resonate with anyone who has survived a sexual assault or cared about someone who has been so viciously attacked. I cannot say enough about the value of reading this book and how empowering it was to me as a woman. It is a love story, mystery and a documentation of strength and resilience.
Resilience. Strength. Healing. Those three words come to mind as I connect the work of a New York Times bestselling author and a talk about the Cambodian Genocide at my southern Minnesota library. By reading and listening, I learned. To read a book pulled from the shelves at my public library and then to listen to personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on the second floor of that same library are freedoms I no longer take for granted. Not today. I choose to remember and learn from the past. And hope we do not repeat it.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling