Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Honoring & remembering our military men, & women, on Memorial Day in Faribault May 29, 2025

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A member of the Faribault Color Guard holds the American Flag during the Memorial Day program. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

TWO THINGS IN THIS YEAR’S Faribault Memorial Day observances stood out for me from previous events. First, three military women—Kerrie Johnsrud, Peggy Johnson and Stephanie Johnsrud—were honored. Second, a soldier killed in action during the Vietnam War was remembered.

A large crowd (this shows only a portion) gathers in Central Park for the Memorial Day program. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Both touched me in a memorable way. Too often, women have been overlooked. Not this year. Not in Faribault. Honored Combat Veteran Stephanie Johnsrud drove that point home by reminding the crowd gathered at Central Park that anyone can be a veteran, even a woman, and to break the stigma of women in the military. She served with the Army National Guard, including deployments to Kuwait and Iraq. Upon her return, the veteran wanted to have a welcome home party at a local military club, something met with a less-than-warm reception. It was heartbreaking to hear her words.

This banner of Thomas Eastman and other Faribault Hometown Heroes hangs in the front window of the former Eastman Music. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Equally heartbreaking was the story of Army PFC Thomas Eastman, 21, of rural Faribault who was killed in Vietnam on May 5, 1966. He’d been deployed as an infantryman only months earlier. His name is listed on panel 7E, Line 30, of the Vietnam Memorial Wall, one of 1,086 Minnesotans listed on that monument.

Love seeing children in attendance, listening and learning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Keynote speaker and emcee Gordy Kosfeld shared a bit about this young man, a 1963 Kenyon High School graduate. It was that information which personalized Eastman, took him from statistic to a beloved son, brother, uncle and friend. He wore thick glasses, loved fast cars, dogs and reading. And he planned to return to the farm upon his discharge.

“All gave some. Some gave all.” A meaningful message on a t-shirt. I saw another message, “You matter,” printed on a plain black tee. I told the young man wearing it how much I appreciated those two simple, yet powerful, words. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Eastman, Kosfeld said, sounded like “an ordinary guy” who died in a far away land in service to country. He was and he did. I think sometimes, in the mass of numbers, we forget that our military men and women are, like Eastman, individuals with families and stories, likes and dislikes, and loved ones back home who miss them. And, if they are killed in action, with loved ones who deeply grieve their tragic deaths. That includes 58,000-plus during the Vietnam War.

The emcee pointed out this unexpected patriotic visual, worn by a young woman on stage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

During the past year, many grieved the loss of 109 Rice County veterans. Our veterans are aging. Dying. Men like Carl W. Ames, Phillip J. Dorn and my friend, 100-year-old Elmer R. Schulz. And, among all those male veterans, four deceased female veterans, Donna L. Schultz, Beverly J. Miller, Donna M. Cleland and Debra G. Norman. All 109 names were listed on the Memorial Day service program, a visual reminder that imprints upon the spirit the importance of honoring veterans not only in death, but in life.

A veteran pays his respects by saluting. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

And that we did on Monday morning in Faribault’s Central Park. Young and old. We listened. We honored. We remembered.

Members of the Faribault American Legion Auxiliary placed wreaths, each representing a war or conflict, on or at the base of this cross during Faribault’s Memorial Day program. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

This concludes my three-part series on Memorial Day observances in Faribault and in Cannon City. Click here to read about Faribault’s parade and here to read about the program at the Cannon City Cemetery.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

History & tradition meld at Cannon City Memorial Day observance May 28, 2025

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A horse-drawn wagon leads the parade along the gravel road to the Cannon City Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

MEMORIAL DAY IN CANNON CITY is decidedly simple and old-fashioned, marking a 100-year-plus tradition of gathering in the 1867 cemetery to remember and honor veterans. This observation also embraces community with a mixture of mostly locals and those born here returning home for the 2 p.m. program followed by visiting, lots of visiting.

Several vintage vehicles and a pickup follow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Although I have no connection to this unincorporated village a few miles northeast of Faribault, I’ve found myself often drawn here on Memorial Day. The countryside setting and the way in which the day is celebrated appeal to my rural roots and upbringing 130 miles away on the southwestern Minnesota prairie.

A few people walked the parade route, here past farm land. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Monday’s event at Cannon City began with a parade from the nearby former country school to the cemetery. A small contingent of horse-drawn wagon, vintage vehicles and several walkers followed the gravel road past homes and farm fields to the fenced cemetery. I walked alongside the group in the road ditch, photographing the scene as they neared the graveyard.

Vintage vehicles set an historic scene outside the cemetery gates. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

It was not difficult in that moment to imagine the long ago school children proceeding to the cemetery, carrying homemade floral wreaths of lilacs and other flowers in bloom. Several years ago that original Decoration Day parade tradition was revived. It’s a lovely nod to history.

A crowd gathers for the Memorial Day program centered under the trees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
All ages attended, including Levi, almost two, who wore these patriotic boots. His grandpa is the cemetery caretaker. Levi helps him and his dad by picking up sticks before mowing. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
The Sartor Brothers lead musical selections. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Inside the cemetery gate, folks gathered in the shelter of cedars and pines to listen to inspirational readings and poetry; to sing; to hear the names of 52 veterans buried here read aloud; and more.

Handing out poppies to attendees. Members of the Faribault American Legion Auxiliary and other volunteers crafted the paper flowers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Organizer Kathleen Kanne led the program and talked about Jean Ann Pederson. The plaque in front of Kanne was given in honor of Jean Ann. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
A woman’s t-shirt focuses on poppies, representing the blood of heroes who died in war. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

This year the “more” included excerpts from an interview with Jean Ann Greenville Pederson, a Cannon City native interviewed by Kathleen Kanne and Mel Sanborn. She died in February, shortly after her 93rd birthday. Each May, Jean Ann shared a bit of local Memorial Day history and read “In Flanders Fields” to attendees. Kanne, program organizer, announced the placement of a small “In Flanders Fields” graveside plaque honoring Jean Ann. She then invited us to read the poem together. I recited it, having memorized “In Flanders Fields” as a child tasked with sharing the poem several times during my hometown Memorial Day program. In Flanders fields the poppies blow/Between the crosses, row on row…

American flags marked the graves of veterans in the Cannon City Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Throughout this commemorative event in the Cannon City Cemetery, I was intimately aware of my surroundings. Under the trees. Next to farm fields. The wind sweeping across the hill. Birds chirping. It felt reverent, almost holy—this place like a sanctuary. For the living and the dead.

Visiting after the program. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

After the program concluded, families meandered among the gravestones. Stopping. Gathering. Others remained under the cedars and pines, connecting and reconnecting. I grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and went in search of my friend’s, veteran Rhody Yule’s, grave. I found it, flat against the ground, hidden by a bush.

I heard Steve Bonde play taps at the Memorial Day service in Faribault in the morning and then again at Cannon City in the afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Later, as I headed toward the van to leave, I heard Steve Bonde, who earlier played patriotic music, playing more tunes. It was the perfect way to end my time here, where respect for veterans, for community and for tradition carries through generations of those rooted in Cannon City.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

American pride & patriotism shine at Faribault Memorial Day parade May 27, 2025

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Veteran Kirk Mansfield carries the American flag as part of the Color Guard during the parade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

I GREW UP RECOGNIZING Memorial Day for what it is—a day to honor those who have died in service to our country. My parents instilled in me the importance of this day, a value I’ve carried throughout my life. Nearly every year I’ve attended an event recognizing our military men and women, especially those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

A large crowd gathers for the Memorial Day parade along Central Avenue in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

On Monday morning I headed downtown Faribault to the Memorial Day parade followed by a program in Central Park. In the afternoon Randy and I drove a few miles out of town to the Cannon City Cemetery and a program there.

This year’s honored veterans were all women: Kerrie Johnsrud, Peggy Johnson (pictured here as honorary parade grand marshal) and Stephanie Johnsrud. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

At each of these events, I observed a deep sense of patriotic pride and love of country among attendees. That came in an abundance of American flags; patriotic music, poetry, readings and speeches; red-white-and-blue attire; salutes; and smiles.

Veterans throw candy to the kids. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

In a time when this country feels incredibly divided, it uplifted me to witness this appreciation for America, for the men and women who fought to preserve our freedom and for those who continue to do so. For this one day I felt a sense of unity, a coming together to honor and to uphold democracy.

Kids participated in, and attended, the parade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

I especially delight in seeing so many children at these Memorial Day events. It’s important for them to recognize that this date should not be noted as the unofficial start of summer, but rather as a sacred day of remembrance.

A cluster of happy kids with flags and candy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

Sure, at some of their young ages, these kids are coming for the candy and American flags handed out at the parade. They’re coming, too, to be with their families and friends. But their understanding of Memorial Day will grow—at least I hope it will—as they mature. Kids learn from their parents and grandparents. Our choices show them what’s important.

Scouts and others passed out American flags. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

I am thankful for my Korean War veteran father and American Legion Auxiliary mother who instilled in me and my five siblings the necessity of attending and participating in Memorial Day events. On that singular May day each year, we gathered with community to honor, to remember and to, yes, celebrate freedom. This is a tradition I hold dear, for I recognize the freedom preserved and protected by those who served, and still serve, our country.

Faribault is a diverse community with many of our newest residents arriving from war-torn countries to settle here, work and raise their families. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

I have the freedom to speak. To write. To make choices. To agree or disagree. Not everyone does, even in our own country. That’s another reason Memorial Day holds such value. It reminds us of our core values as a nation. How much we value democracy and freedom. We are a country of spacious skies and amber waves of grain…and of patriot dream that sees beyond the years.

Patriotic pride shines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

We are a land, that even in the darkness of difficult days, still shines from sea to shining sea!

A contingent of horses and their riders always end the parade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)

FYI: Please check back for two more Memorial Day posts, these about programs I attended.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Remembering, honoring, grieving on Memorial Day May 22, 2025

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My father, Elvern Kletscher, left, with two of his soldier buddies in Korea.

WHEN MEMORIAL DAY ROLLS around each May, my thoughts shift to my dad, who served on the front lines during the Korean War. He survived, albeit with the emotional trauma that comes from killing and constant danger of being killed. His close buddy, though, did not survive. And that is the man I remember and honor today, along with others who’ve lost their lives in service to country.

Sonny Nealon, Ray’s best friend in high school, sent me this photo of Ray’s gravestone. (Photo credit Sonny Nealon)

Corporal Ray W. Scheibe, 22, of Wolbach, Nebraska, died on June 2, 1953, blown apart by a mortar shell. My dad witnessed his horrific death, for war is nothing short of horrible. Ray was scheduled to leave Korea the next day, which makes his story even more tragic. He left behind grieving friends and family, including his wife, Marilyn, and 3-month-old daughter, Terri Rae, whom he had not yet seen. I’ve since found and connected with Terri in Iowa, but have yet to meet her.

A story about Cpl. Ray W. Scheibe, published in the July 23, 1953, issue of The Wolbach Messenger.

It is the individual stories of soldiers like Ray that take war to a personal level. A level that allows us to understand the meaning of the words “killed in action.” My father’s grief in losing Ray became, in some ways, my grief, too.

Playing taps at a past Memorial Day program in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2016)

On Memorial Day we gather in collective grief to remember the many men and women who, like Ray, died while serving in the U.S. military. There will be parades and speeches, patriotic music and poetry, poppies and red-white-and-blue attire. Names read. Tears shed. Taps played. Guns fired. Flags carried. Graves visited.

A message and names on the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall, which was in Faribault in 2016. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

In our hearts, in the silence of our thoughts, we reflect upon what it truly means to give up life for country as did Ray and 27 other men listed in a July 31, 1953, memorial service bulletin my dad carried home from Korea. Below those names are these words from Scripture: Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).

Honoring fallen soldiers with a special monument at the Rice County Veterans’ Memorial in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I get emotional as I open the creased, soiled and yellowing 72-year-old memorial service program from Such’am-dong, Korea. I’ve tucked it into a shoebox with Dad’s other military papers, photos and belongings to pull out twice annually on Memorial and Veterans Days. I need to read the fading typewritten names, to recognize and honor these men who never made it home.

Montgomery, Minnesota, honors veterans via posting their photos and stories (339 thus far) throughout the downtown. To the right is the profile of George J. Petricka, killed in action during WW II on March 7, 1945. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2025)

I reread the list of alphabetized names from Turrell Anderson to Vernie Zurn. Raymond W. Scheibe falls at number 24. The surviving men of the 2nd Battalion, 65th Infantry Regiment, who mourned the 28 on that July day in 1953, carried the heavy weight of grief as they prayed, stood in silence, sang “America the Beautiful” and “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee.” And then they carried that grief home.

Grief in a note and mums left at the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall in Faribault. It honors Rich Lozinski, Class of 1958, Minneota, Minnesota. According to the online Wall list of those KIA, the name is spelled “Lozenski.” Rich was only 26 when he was killed in Quang Tri Province on May 19, 1967. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2016)

Today, even decades after the death of a service member in war, grief carries through generations. It’s important to remember that, to respect that, to take time on Memorial Day for not only honoring, but also for grieving. In grief we begin to acknowledge and process loss. In grief we begin to heal. And in grief we begin to understand the ultimate sacrifice for country.

TELL ME: If you have a story to share about a service member who was killed in action, I’d like to hear. Who do you honor on this Memorial Day?

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Easter thoughts, Easter blessings April 20, 2025

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This stained glass window of the women at Jesus’ empty tomb rises above the altar at Holden Lutheran Church, rural Kenyon, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

EASTER SUNDAY MARKS a day of celebration among Christians as we rejoice in the resurrection of Jesus and the promise of eternal life.

My favorite Easter hymn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

It is a day of joyful song, of prayerful gratitude, of alleluias.

Eggs dyed with my mom many years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

It is a day, too, to gather with family over brunch or a ham dinner. It is a day to find Easter baskets and hidden eggs.

It is a day of memories made and memories remembered. It is a day of missing those loved ones no longer with us, but loving on those who are near or far.

The risen Lord centers the trio of stained glass windows above the altar at Trinity Lutheran Church, Wanamingo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

It is a day when the sun rises on a struggling world, where hope is needed now more than ever.

Have a blessed and joy-filled Easter, dear friends!

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on letters from first graders: All they wanted for Christmas December 31, 2024

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Santa at Souba Greenhouse, Owatonna, during their “Christmas on the Farm.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2024)

MAVERICK WANTED ONLY THREE THINGS for Christmas, so he wrote in a letter to Santa published recently in a Minnesota weekly newspaper. The first grader wanted a sled, a “lizard that climbs up the wall” and 100 packs of Cotton Candy Bubblegum. Did he get all three? I doubt it. But what Maverick did get from me was laughter, especially for that bubblegum ask. But, hey, I understand. I loved Bazooka bubblegum as a kid. Maverick and I would get along splendidly, if he agreed to share his bubblegum.

Every year I look forward to the letters to Santa Claus published in The Gaylord Hub, a small town weekly newspaper where I worked as a reporter and photographer fresh out of college with a journalism degree in 1978. Today that paper still arrives in my mailbox weekly, much to my delight. The community where I was affectionately called “The Cub from The Hub” will always hold a special place in my heart.

And those Santa letters, oh, those letters, what joy they bring me each December They are the stuff of a small town newspaper. I imagine parents clipping the published letters and years later pulling out the yellowed newsprint to share with their grown children.

“I’VE BEEN GOOD, SANTA. BUT MOM?”

“I have been good for 3 days,” writes Sibley East first grader Sophia before asking for a toy remote control plane. Three days? I wonder if Santa had to think about that statement. If anything, Sophia was apparently being honest.

But then there’s Adelyn, who wasn’t as much concerned about her behavior as her mom’s, although she claims to have been “good.” Adelyn asks Santa, “Is my mom on the naughty list?” Cue the laughter from me…and maybe Mom.

Cats and canines were a popular gift request to Santa. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS…

First graders are, if anything, unfiltered and honest. And they don’t hesitate to ask for whatever they want. It seems a lot of these kids wanted pets—specifically ten asked for cats or kittens, six for dogs and one, a guiny (sic) pig. That last request came from May. My guess is that most kids did not get the animals they wanted, except those asking for a robot dog or a toy dog.

Then there were the unusual gift requests. Erik wanted a chainsaw. I expect Santa nixed that pretty quickly considering age appropriateness. Dalton asked for a diamond, a rather odd request from an elementary school student. Violett wanted a camera that looks like a unicorn. Is there such a thing? Oliver asked to “get in the Titanic for Christmas,” which I wouldn’t recommend even if the Titanic was still afloat.

Plated Christmas cookies at a holiday event in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

Kaelyn asked Santa for an iPhone, a Barbie toy and 5 cookies. No problem there, except with the phone, which I wouldn’t give to any of the five first graders who asked for one. I think Santa may have felt the same. But the Barbie toy and cookies? No problem. Santa has plenty of cookies to share. He probably gave Kaelyn more than five. And he likely had enough Barbie goods to give away.

Alia and May’s requests for make-up, though, gave me pause and I bet it did for Santa also. No first grader needs make-up for her sweet little face.

Kids are always interested in Santa’s reindeer and the elves. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2023)

SWEET WORDS FOR SANTA

I love how several kids proclaimed their love for Santa. “I love you, Santa!” exclaimed Holden. Such sweet words likely proved reaffirming for the overworked, underpaid Santa Claus. Kieren stepped up the compliments. “Santa, you are awesome!” he wrote. “Thank you for giving us presents.” Awww, gratitude goes a long ways with Santa as does praise for his reindeer. Gauge bravely asked if he could come to Santa’s house because he really wants to meet the elves.

Candy canes and Christmas go hand-in-hand, here theming a Christmas tree in Faribault’s Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2024)

AND THEN THIS REQUEST

And then there’s the letter from Allison, who said she’s been helping her mom with the baby. She asked for only one thing—a candy cane. That broke my heart. One. Thing. I hope Santa gave her a hundred candy canes, several dozen cookies and a surprise gift that brought Allison, a good, kind (her words) and selfless soul, unfathomable Christmas joy. She, among all those letter-writing first graders, deserved a special gift.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Christmas that wasn’t December 30, 2024

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This shows a snippet of a Christmas card I received in 2023. To me it represents the gathering of family, all back home for the holidays. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2023)

I WANT A CHRISTMAS DO-OVER. Yup, 2024 marked the Christmas that did not happen. I’m not referencing the real reason for Christmas of celebrating Christ’s birth, but rather family time together. Due to illness, my core family could not gather.

I was over my COVID by Christmas, testing negative the day prior. But by that time, my son, a son-in-law and the grandkids were ill with influenza, which they presumably picked up at an extended family holiday gathering. Many others became ill, too, following that event. I didn’t attend due to my COVID. Our daughter is sick now and the granddaughter is still recovering.

Tis the season to spread viruses. And this Christmas seems worse than any I can recall in recent memory.

A plane arrives at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The hardest thing through all of this, besides missing celebrating Christmas, was not seeing my son until a week after he arrived in Minnesota from Boston. But I didn’t want him here while I had COVID. And then he got sick. Finally, by the end of Christmas week, my mama’s heart could hold no more sadness. Except for occasional coughing, Caleb was through the worst of his illness. I had to see him.

I bought flowers (not this particular bouquet) for my eldest daughter, who had been caring for a houseful of sick family all of Christmas week. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2016)

So off Randy and I headed to our eldest daughter’s house late Friday morning, Christmas gifts stuffed into a cardboard box, banana bread packed and a bouquet of flowers in hand for Amber. Upon our arrival 35 minutes later, we unloaded the goods into the entry, the daughter, son-in-law and grandkids keeping their distance in the living room. Caleb watched the kids open their gifts from him while Randy loaded his suitcase and backpack into our van. I stepped indoors briefly, then waited outside.

Once we were all out of the house, Izzy and Isaac came to the front window and waved goodbye. There would be no hugs, only those sweet waves, which was better than nothing.

At this point, I was just happy to see my son and have some time with him before he flew out two days later. He worried that he might make Randy and me ill. I told Caleb that we were willing to take the risk because I needed to see him. I think most mothers would understand that. I cherish my time with my son given we see each other only once or twice a year. I am not one of those moms fortunate enough to have her kids all living in their hometown or nearby. That said, I am aware that some moms are grieving children who have passed or are estranged or cannot, for whatever reason, return home for the holidays. I’m sorry for the sadness and pain they feel at a time like Christmas.

The Boston skyline photographed from Tufts University. Randy and I traveled there in 2016 to attend Caleb’s graduation. He now lives and works in greater Boston. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2016)

The time I had with Caleb was brief. But it was enough. There were meals together. Conversations. Tears. Laughter. Love, lots of love. An unexpected gift from him of a massive mandala he laser cut, stained and glued together brought me to tears. Hearts theme the art. To me it represents family love. And the love of a son. The son I had to see. The son I hugged good morning and goodnight and then goodbye early Sunday evening as we dropped him off at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport for his flight home. Home to Boston. Not Minnesota.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My Christmas message for you December 25, 2024

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A HOPE Christmas ornament, which is too heavy to hang on the tree. So I hang it on a drawer knob. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

HOPE. It’s a word that holds expectations, the promise of something better. And it’s one of my favorite words.

Today, Christmas Day, my hope is that you are celebrating in a way that is joyful and meaningful to you. Perhaps you are with friends or family. Maybe you are alone, far from loved ones. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I hope you understand how much you are cherished. Every. Single. One. Of you.

The older I grow, the more I realize how much we need each other, how connections make life so much richer, better.

Through my writing and photography, I’ve connected with people I would not have otherwise “met.” I have forged friendships across the country that have widened my world to new places, new perspectives, new experiences. What a blessing.

Hope and blessings fill my life. Today, Christmas Day, as I celebrate Christ’s birth as a woman of faith, I also celebrate you and what you mean to me. You are a gift.

Merry Christmas to each of you! May hope and joy fill your day.

Audrey

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The magic of Santa December 23, 2024

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A vintage Santa waits inside a vintage vehicle at the recent “Vintage Christmas in the Barn” holiday market in Cannon City. The holiday sale is over. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

DO MOST KIDS STILL BELIEVE in Santa Claus? Or at least the magic of Santa? I hope so.

There’s something profoundly wonderful about Santa. He represents the best in all of us. He listens. He’s always happy. He loves cookies and milk. And he doesn’t promise us the moon. To do so would not be in our best interests, although a child with a long list of wants may disagree.

Generations of kids have wondered what they will find under the tree at Christmas. This scene is inside the barn at the recent “Vintage Christmas in the Barn” holiday sale. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

There was a time when I paged through the Sears & Roebuck Christmas catalog looking for toys I thought I needed. It really was a futile effort as I never got them anyway. But I was dreaming as every child is wont to do before Christmas. Except, I think, in 2024 kids are more likely to get what they want.

Outdoor decor for sale at “Vintage Christmas in the Barn” earlier in the holiday season. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

I wonder what Santa thinks of all the requests today. Would he prefer to hire elves who are skilled only in woodworking versus computer programming? Would he prefer simpler toys that engage the imagination and spark creativity to so many electronics? Does his head spin when he inventories the ever-growing number of gadgets and batteries piling up at the North Pole?

Holiday goods for sale at “Vintage Christmas in the Barn.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Just thinking about everything Santa needs to keep straight makes my head spin. At least he’s contracted with others to help in gift delivery. I never thought one team of reindeer could possibly handle the job. Santa can’t do everything. There’s a lot of pressure to get gifts delivered on time. (Thank you, postal workers, and others.)

An oversized, handcrafted wooden Santa greets shoppers at “Vintage Christmas in the Barn.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2024)

Despite all of the changes through the decades, Santa remains as popular as ever, so it seems to me. Parents still plop crying babies on Santa’s lap for photos. Kids approach the Jolly Old Guy with a mix of trepidation and hope. In the end, Santa still holds a sense of wonder that remains timeless through the generations. And therein lies the magic of Santa. Do you believe?

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Connecting past to present via my “Charlie Brown” Christmas tree December 16, 2024

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Me, in the red jumper, with my siblings Doug (back) and front, left to right, Monica, Brian and Lanae on Christmas Eve 1964 in our childhood home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

NOSTALGIA SHAPES my Christmas tree choice, as I expect it may yours. I want a tree that is short-needled, imperfect, leaning toward Charlie Brownish. That type of unshaped tree is the tree of my childhood Christmases on a southwestern Minnesota dairy and crop farm.

UPDATE: Ken’s Christmas Trees, 1407 Fourth St. NW., Faribault, has closed for the season. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

In the old 1 ½-story wood-frame farmhouse where I lived the first 11 years of my life with my parents and four of my five siblings (Brad wasn’t yet born, the new house not yet built), our Christmas tree sat on the end of the Formica kitchen table. The house was too small to put the tree elsewhere. An oil-burning stove occupied much of the tiny living room, which would be the usual spot to place a tree.

A touch of red at Ken’s Christmas Trees, which also sells wreaths and evergreen garland. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

I loved that the tree sat on the table, which was draped with a red-and-white checked oilcloth tablecloth matching the red-and-white checkered linoleum tile floors. Kitchen walls were painted yellow on top with some type of red-bordered gray wall covering below. A maroon Naugahyde rocker sat in front of the trap door leading to the dirt-floored cellar.

An overview of Ken’s Christmas Trees, located in a lot next to Jersey Mike’s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

In that setting, Dad placed our grocery store Christmas tree. On the kitchen table, on the end next to the window facing west. Imagine gathering there in the dark of December, Dad in from doing chores, Mom dishing up meat, boiled potatoes, gravy and a side vegetable to pass around. Homemade bread piled on a plate. Milk from our cows poured into cups. Meals during the holiday season held a bit of magic because of that tiny Christmas tree.

Tinsel sparkled in the glow of holiday lights. To this day, I drape tinsel on my tree even if it’s a bit of a hassle. I love the old-fashioned look, the memories connected to tinsel.

This paper Baby Jesus goes on my Christmas tree every year. It’s from the 1960s, from my Sunday School Christmas lesson. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I remember favorite ornaments, too. The wax lamb, which Mom cautioned not to hang too close to the heat of a bulb. The glittery gray dove. The mini white church with a red window, hung near a red bulb so the window glowed. The colorful vintage round ornaments that we handled with care lest they break, and some did. I have a few of those. And then the paper baby Jesus, nestled in a manger, and an angel robed in white. I have both, cut from Sunday School lessons and looped with yarn to hang from evergreen boughs.

My husband, Randy, accompanied by Ken’s son, carries our $37 tree to the van. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

When I shop for my Christmas tree each December, usually at Ken’s Christmas Trees in Faribault, these visuals guide me. I am, I suppose, attempting to recapture those Christmases of yesteryear. A time when, unencumbered by the responsibilities of adulthood, I experienced the absolute joy of the season. There were no worries—only that of remembering my line for the Sunday School Christmas service.

This cut-out of Ken Mueller stood at the tree lot in 2023. Mueller faced a major health crisis this past year, but has since recovered. His kids are now running the tree lot. It’s all about family with the Muellers, too. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2023)

Today I experience Christmas through my grandchildren, Isabelle, 8, and Isaac, almost six. Next Christmas another little one—my second daughter is due to deliver a boy in January—will add to the magic of the season. Kids have a way of infusing anticipation and unbridled joy into Christmas.

Shoppers search for the “perfect” tree, for them, at Ken’s lot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo December 2024)

When my core family (minus the pregnant daughter and her husband, who live 260 miles away) gather around my Charlie Brownish tree in the living room (not the kitchen) on Christmas Eve, I hope they feel the magic. The magic and joy that come in being together, especially with the son in Minnesota from Boston. Celebrating the birth of Christ. Celebrating family. Understanding that, no matter what tree decorates a home, it is the homecomings, the conversation and laughter that matter most. The love we feel for one another centers our family celebrations.

Our 2023 Christmas tree purchased at Ken’s tree lot and placed in a corner of our living room. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2023)

The tree is simply a decoration, a memory, a focal point. In the living room. Not atop the kitchen table.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling