Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

An overdue valentine February 14, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:08 AM
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A vintage pop-up valentine belonging to my mom.

A vintage pop-up valentine belonging to my mom.

MY FONDEST VALENTINE’S DAY memories are of shoeboxes with slit covers, jars of thick white paste, construction paper hearts, glitter-edged valentines punched from oversized books, gum (preferably Juicy Fruit), and even those chalky conversation hearts (except, please, not a lovey dovey message from the boy I do not like).

Ah, Valentine’s Day as a grade schooler…

Now fast forward decades, when the valentines I give and receive are plucked from store displays. Gone are the creativity, the thought, the time, the effort invested in making homemade valentines.

Until this year. I decided to make valentines for the children of some friends. So I pulled out the red and pink paper, the markers and scissors and tape (no thick paste in gallon jars) to craft individualized valentines. Instead of gum or conversation hearts, I taped foil wrapped chocolate hearts onto the paper hearts. The kids were pleased.

But…at least one dad was not. Seems Jesse felt cheated/neglected/shunned by me. He even emailed to tell me he was bummed about not getting a valentine, but “may get over it by Friday.” Well, then, since he opened that door… Not wanting to permanently damage our friendship, I pulled out the crafting supplies again. I would make a very special valentine for Jesse.

Now, because I did not have this blog post idea until after I completed and mailed the valentine to Jesse, I am relying on memory for the exact wording on the front of the card. But it went something like this:

These heartfelt wishes are long overdue
so I’ve created this valentine just for you

Jesse, you see, is a librarian. I decided to have a little fun following the library theme.

Inside the valentine I taped a print-out designed to look like the print-out I get when checking out books at the local library. Except these aren’t “real” books, although I expect you may find actual volumes with similar titles.

Here’s the mock print-out, which I followed with a “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jesse! Your not-so-secret admirer.”

Checkout Receipt

Faribault Buckham Memorial Library

CALL TO RENEW 334-2089
ON THE WEB: http://www.faribault.org
(click on “Library”)

02/12/13 8:39AM

PATRON: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PLEASE NOTE DUE DATES:

0100702766518
The Case of the Missing Valentine 02/14/13
_________________________________________
0100702757921
Easy-to-Make Valentines 02/14/13
_________________________________________
0100702763978
A Mr. Jess Valentine Mystery: 02/14/13
Book Heist at the Library
_________________________________________
0100702723014
A Husband’s Guide: 02/14/13
Best Valentine’s Day Gifts for Your Wife
_________________________________________
0100702740786
How to Impress Your Friends with Valentine Poetry
02/14/13

TOTAL: 5

A valentine my son received from his maternal grandparents probably a decade ago.

Jesse has concluded that, because I sent him a valentine, I must like him, just like the sentiments expressed in this valentine from my son’s grade school years.

Apparently my strategy to make amends with Jesse worked. He opened his valentine and then sent this email:

Ah, you like me, you really like me!

Yes, Jesse is a great guy and obviously appreciates my humor. But he also possesses a sense of humor, which you can read about in a previous post. Click here and scroll down to Jesse’s version of Grant Wood’s “American Gothic” painting. Jesse is clever. He is also a dear friend just like his wife, Tammy, for whom I made a sweet valentine lest she, too, feel cheated/neglected/shunned by me.

Dear readers, while I can’t possibly create personalized valentines for each of you, as I did for Jesse and Tammy, my wishes for you on this special day of love and friendship are no less sincere. Have a delightful Valentine’s Day!

And to the special valentine in my life, I direct you to these illustrations from A Husband’s Guide: Best Valentine’s Day Gifts for Your Wife.

Birthday roses from my husband, Randy.

Birthday roses from my husband, Randy.

You can't go wrong with chocolate, like this box from my daughter Miranda on Mother's Day.

You can’t go wrong with chocolate, like this box from my daughter Miranda on Mother’s Day.

Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Two Minnesota businessmen pitch vacuums & flowers for Valentine’s Day via poetry February 12, 2013

VACUUM CLEANERS AND ROSES seem an unlikely pair. But for long-time Waseca businessmen and friends, Rick Morris and Charlie Mathern, pairing the two has become a pre-Valentine’s Day tradition that began some 20 years ago when Rick noticed Charlie had vacuum cleaners on sale.

Rick, owner of Waseca Floral, suggested he pitch flowers and Charlie, owner of Charlie’s Hardware, push vacuums in a joint half-page print ad with this long-standing lead-in:

On Valentine’s Day, Charlie & Rick say—Sweep her off her feet! Vacuum Cleaner?…or Roses?

Then the fun began as each tried to persuade potential customers, via poetry, to choose a vacuum over roses or roses over a vacuum. This year’s ad, published February 5 in The Waseca Area Shopper, features these poems, among others:

Charlie:

Thorny roses? Fussy violets?
Wow her with flowers and you’ll be the pilot

Rick:

Roses are the language of Lust
Vacuums are the prattle of so much dust

Valentine's Day ad 2013

This shows all but the bottom portion of the 2013 print ad.

The back-and-forth bantering continues amid photos of vacuums intermixed with red poetry hearts on the left side of the ad and images of floral arrangements interspersed with poetry hearts on the right.

The valentine ad has always been about vacuums and flowers.

And, clearly, it’s also about fun.

“We just get silly with them (the poems),” says Ann Mathern, Charlie’s wife and the author of Charlie’s vacuum cleaner poetry. “The crazier, the better. I don’t know if we can call this poetry.”

Rick concurs: “I write a couple of lines at a time. It’s not exactly poetry.” He pulls out a blank sheet of paper and, in a few hours or less, pens floral-themed couplets like:

She wants roses, there is no doubt
Give her a vacuum and she may throw you out

Ann, a first grade teacher, meanwhile, sits at her computer and, in about 45 minutes, centers her eight rhyming poems around whatever vacuums Charlie is trying to sell:

Come on—admit it—flowers in a vase
Can’t compete with a Sebo, they’ll never keep pace

Rick Morris, owner of Waseca Floral for 40 years. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo, February 2012.

Rick Morris, owner of Waseca Floral for 40 years. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo, February 2012.

The poetry/sales competition gets exactly the results Rick and Charlie want—attention, laughter and sales. “People look for it (the ad),” Rick says, and will mention the ad when they purchase Valentine’s Day flowers.

Likewise, down at the hardware store, the ad generates sales. But it also sparks the occasional call from female customers angry about suggesting a vacuum cleaner as a Valentine’s Day gift, Ann Mathern says.

Charlie, who fields those sometimes unhappy calls, explains that the Valentine’s Day ad is all in good fun by mutual agreement with his good friend Rick. Occasionally Rick and Charlie need to remind themselves of that, especially when they read some of the barbed poetry.

Rick:

Flowers are beautiful and oh so sublime
Vacuums are ugly and filled with grime

Charlie:

Your honey might settle for a pretty bouquet
But she’d choose a Hoover if she could have her way

Roses pack coolers for Valentine's Day 2012 in this Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo from Waseca Floral.

Flowers pack a cooler for Valentine’s Day 2012 in this Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo from Waseca Floral.

No matter what’s written, Rick and Charlie take it all in good humor. After 30-plus years of friendship and eating breakfast together between 6:30 – 7 every morning except Wednesday (when Rick has bible study) at various Waseca cafes, they know each other well, even sharing the same dry sense of humor, Rick says. Their wives, Ann and Sheila, join them for breakfast on Fridays.

Just like the daily breakfast tradition, Rick expects he’ll continue publishing the joint flowers versus vacuums ad with Charlie as long as the two are in business and he and Ann can keep writing their so-called poetry.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Disclaimer: My sister, Lanae, is a floral designer at Waseca Floral. That did not influence my decision to write this post. I know a great story when I see/hear one.

 

Just how bad is the weather in the Fargo area? February 11, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:37 AM
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THE TOP 10 REASONS a Minnesota mom concludes the weather is really bad in Fargo:

10) The West Fargo Police Department’s business office closes on Sunday due to “potential extreme weather conditions” and reopens today, “weather permitting.”

9) Four foot high drifts block ramps along Interstate 29 on Sunday.

8) A law enforcement rescuer of stranded motorists finds himself stuck on an I-29 ramp and in need of rescue.

7) Several minutes of live video cam footage in downtown Fargo on Sunday show nearly as many pedestrians as vehicles (which are few). One (of the pedestrians) is a skier.

6) Interstate 94 closes between Jamestown, N.D., and Alexandria, Minnesota, a distance of approximately 200 miles.

5) My son, in his second semester at North Dakota State University in Fargo, texts at 3:15 p.m. Sunday that “It’s pretty bad up here.”

4) West Acres, a West Fargo mall which does not open until noon on Sunday due to North Dakota’s Blue Law, closes at 2:30 p.m. Sunday. An employee of Helzberg Diamonds writes on the mall’s Facebook page: Its  obviously bad outside. Clinics are also closed. If people can’t get medical help, you don’t need to shop.

3) The National Weather Service Office in Grand Forks issues this Monday morning forecast (in part) in its blizzard warning for the region:

NORTH TO NORTHWEST WINDS AT 25 TO 35 MPH WITH GUSTS TO AROUND 40 MPH WILL CONTINUE THROUGH THIS MORNING. BLOWING SNOW WILL REDUCE VISIBILITIES TO NEAR ZERO AT TIMES…ESPECIALLY IN OPEN AREAS.

2) No travel is advised on Sunday. In Fargo.

1) My son, who thought his snow days ended upon graduation from a Minnesota high school, gets a snow day. Classes are canceled today at North Dakota State University. I text him with the news at 9:15 p.m. Sunday.

His response: Yeah

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Battling winter in Fargo February 5, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:02 AM
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A sign along a city street welcomes us to Fargo, North Dakota, from Moorhead, Minnesota, just across the Red River.

A sign along a city street welcomes visitors to Fargo, North Dakota, from Moorhead, Minnesota, just across the Red River.  I might change that “city of parks” to “The windy city.” Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA, is flat. That is a fact.

The wind blows in Fargo. A lot. That is a fact.

Therefore, one could rightly conclude that staying warm during winter in flat and windy Fargo would present a challenge, even to a hardy Minnesotan.

During a recent cold snap, with wind chill readings in the minus 30 degrees Fahrenheit in Fargo, I received this text from my son, who attends North Dakota State University:

This cheap Walmart hat stands zero chance against the Fargo wind.

OK, I am 300 miles away so it’s not like I can run out and buy my boy a new hat. I suggested he take the $20 I’d recently sent and purchase warmer head attire.

Apparently, though, my son did not need my motherly assistance. He’d already gone online the previous evening and ordered a “nice Russian military surplus hat.” Alright, that ought to work in Fargo.

But then he mentioned one minor issue, which may or may not be an issue:

Unfortunately it has the good ol’ USSR sickle and hammer on the front. I’m hoping that I will be able to remove that.

When I expressed my concern about the symbol, he fired back:

We aren’t in the cold war anymore…

Ah, yes, my son, but you are.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

At Trinity Family Game Night: Thou shalt laugh January 13, 2013

“TRICK OR TREAT,” I blurted upon my turn, realizing in the very moment I shouted those words that I had erred big time, as in a major brain fart moment.

My teammates’ mouths dropped. Their laughter chastised, mocked me. I could hear their question—“What were you thinking, Audrey?”—even though they dared not speak it aloud in the church fellowship hall setting. They exercised that bit of restrained Christian charity.

But I deserved the laughter. Who would respond “trick or treat” to a Family Feud question about a popular holiday greeting? Me.

First, the specific Family Feud game version we were playing focused on Christmas, a theme I failed to remember. Second, Halloween may be a holiday for kids, but not officially.

Thus went the annual Trinity Lutheran Church, Faribault, Family Game Night Christmas Party on Saturday, an event that always brings laughter. Lyda, who attended with her husband, Sean, and daughters, Rosemary and Anne, summarized the get together quite well in an email thank you to party planner Billie Jo. “We haven’t laughed this much in a long time,” Lyda wrote. Me either.

Laughter is good for the soul, even if the laughter is sometimes because of you.

Mandy, left, and Billie Jo vie to open a gift wrapped in multiple layers of boxes and wrapping paper and secured with layers of duct and packaging tape.

Mandy, left, and Billie Jo vie to open a gift wrapped in multiple layers of boxes and wrapping paper and secured with layers of duct and packaging tape. Rules called for contestants to dress in scarves, hats and mittens before attempting to open the gift.

From the exchange of white elephant gifts (more on that shortly) to the drawing of a Christmas scene upon a paper plate placed atop our heads, to tearing snowmen from paper tucked behind our backs to the pushing/near-wrestling/grabbing involved in the competitive unwrapping of a single gift secured in layers of paper and rolls of duct and packaging tapes to parceling M & Ms into bowls, the evening’s activities showcased comedic competitiveness.

Racing to sort M & Ms by color is not as easy as it looks.

Racing to sort M & Ms by color is not as easy as it looks.

Honestly, you would not expect grown-ups to behave like this, especially in church. But, and this is just my thought, I think sometimes we all need to act like kids, to let loose and freewheel our way through life, if but for a few moments.

We competed for prize packages like this snowman poop.

We competed for prize packages like this snowman poop.

Now if you’re thinking my Family Feud Halloween stupidity rates as the evening’s most memorable moment, you would be wrong. It ties with Jeff’s unwrapping of a white elephant gift which has become a Family Game Night Christmas Party tradition. For years, a gaudy holiday photo frame has circulated into the gift exchange. And, at some point, photos were added. Unbeknownst to Jeff, he grabbed the wrapped photo frame.

I knew, just knew, that my friend Jesse (who is a doctor, but not a medical doctor—so says his son Noah) would wrack his brilliant librarian brain until he came up with an incredibly creative photo to insert into the frame. Little did I know that my husband and I would be the subjects of Jesse’s creative efforts.

Jesse totally outdid himself. We party-goers erupted into thunderous laughter upon seeing his version of artist Grant Wood’s American Gothic.

The modern day version of Grant Wood's American Gothic painting was created by artist Jesse and features my husband and me. Outstanding, isn't it?

This modern day version of Grant Wood’s American Gothic painting was created by artist Jesse and features my husband and me. Outstanding, isn’t it? The garish frame will be regifted next year with a new photo inserted.

The only disappointment was that Jesse could not witness our reaction; he was home with his two youngest children who were ill. However, I asked Jesse’s wife, Tammy, to tell him I would be seeking revenge, to which there was some response about revenge belonging to the Lord. OK then, get back at/get even.

And I can get even, because that hideous photo frame is now in my possession. Yes, I actually stole the frame from Jeff at one point during the game because I really did not need a silverware tray from a dishwasher or two can coolers. My husband later stole this from Jeff—apparently for the can coolers.

I expect we broke many of the 10 Commandments Saturday evening what with stealing, infliction of bodily harm, mocking, maybe even coveting of some gifts, over-indulgence (ahem, consumption of too much chocolate)…

But we redeemed ourselves with laughter and with love.

Another of the wonderful prizes awarded to game winners.

Another of the coveted prizes awarded to game winners.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Instead of following the star in the east… December 21, 2012

WHO ARE THESE

Wise woman 2

three

Wise woman 1

mysterious

Wise woman 3

women?

The holiday window display at The Crafty Maven, 212 Central Avenue, Faribault.

The holiday window display at The Crafty Maven, 212 Central Avenue, in historic downtown Faribault.

They are “The Three Wise Women,” you know, the women who could have altered the biblical account of the three wise men traveling to Bethlehem to see the Christ Child.

Sometimes it’s fun to ponder what may have been.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Go ahead, laugh at this Trans-Siberian Orchestra story December 12, 2012

MY HUSBAND PHONED from work one morning last week to tell me he’d just won two tickets from a local radio station to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra in concert at the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul.

I was thrilled. I love classical music and have never attended a professional orchestra concert.

This album cover has nothing to do with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra except the location, New York City. Joe Krush created this cover photo for Joseph Kuhn's 1958 "Symphony for Blues"  record album cover. I recently purchased 10 vintage records at the Faribault Salvation Army for the cover art. If I own a record player, I'm not sure where it's stored or if it works.

This album cover has nothing to do with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra except the location, New York City. Joe Krush created this cover photo for Joseph Kuhn’s 1958 “Symphony for Blues” record album cover. I recently purchased 10 vintage records, including this one, at the Faribault Salvation Army for the cover art. If I own a record player, I’m not sure where it’s stored or if it works.

“Are they were from Siberia?” I asked, noting the orchestra name.

“No, New York, I think,” Randy responded.

It didn’t matter. I was excited about the upcoming concert. Since Randy needed to get back to work, I didn’t ask for additional details.

Later, I shared the news with our oldest daughter. The conversation went something like this:

Daughter: You do know that the Trans-Siberian Orchestra is a rock band, right?

Me: Uh, no. I thought it was a classical orchestra. Oh, oh. Maybe now I don’t want to go.

Daughter: Bring your ear plugs.

And that is how I learned that my husband and I, who last took in a rock concert (by The Moody Blues) at the St. Paul Civic Center decades ago before children, would not be hearing the lovely and soothing classical music I imagined.

Instead, we’ll be bombarded by steel guitars, so I’m told by someone who’s twice heard the Trans-Siberian Orchestra in concert. The few token string instruments in the band are, he claims, barely audible above the rest of the instruments. Still, he says, we’ll see and hear an outstanding performance which also includes pyrotechnics.

Alright then. Fire and loud rock music. Cool.

The Trans-Siberian Orchestra Christmas concert includes a touch of Broadway. Again, unrelated except for the Broadway element, here's another vintage record album I recently purchased for the graphic arts element.

The Trans-Siberian Orchestra Christmas concert includes a touch of Broadway. Again, unrelated except for the Broadway element, here’s another vintage record album I recently purchased for the graphic arts element.

The band’s 2012 holiday tour marks the debut performance of their rock opera, “The Lost Christmas Eve,” fusing elements of rock, classical, folk, Broadway and R & B music. I doubt Randy is aware of the “opera” tag.

The performance tells a story that “encompasses a run-down hotel, an old toy store, a blues bar, a Gothic cathedral and their respective inhabitants all intertwined during a single enchanted Christmas Eve in New York City.”

Cool. I appreciate a good story, even if this one’s not set in a quaint Siberian village.

Even the actual albums themselves are a beauty to behold, including this one featuring Wayne King and his orchestra. I bet the Trans-Siberian Orchestra sounds nothing like King.

Even the actual albums themselves are a beauty to behold, including this one featuring Wayne King and his orchestra. I bet the Trans-Siberian Orchestra sounds nothing like King.

FOR ANY OF YOU who may be wondering, yes, my spouse was fully aware that the Trans-Siberian Orchestra is a rock band. Hey, I’ve never claimed to know much about music.

Have any of you attended this band’s holiday show? If so, should I bring ear plugs and what’s your review of the performance?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Warning: I am about to ride in a parade September 6, 2012

MY HUSBAND WOULD HAVE jumped on the invitation without hesitation.

But I held back, reluctant to accept Harold Martin’s offer to ride in the Rice County Steam and Gas Engines Show parade. You see, I’ve never ridden in a parade and I feel more comfortable on the audience side where I can blend into the crowd, hidden behind my camera.

So, initially, Randy and I declined and told Harold we’d catch up with him if we changed our minds.

Harold Martin of rural Northfield with his 1948 Dodge truck outfitted with a 1960 Civil Defense siren.

“I don’t want to do it,” I reiterated after Harold and his friend, Gabe, drove off in Harold’s 1948 Dodge truck with a 1960 Civil Defense siren mounted on the back and a rescued-from-the-side-of-the-road sofa planted behind the cab.

That would be our parade spot, on that cream-colored, canopied couch.

I just couldn’t picture myself up there, acting like I was the queen of something or other.

But then Randy said, “Let’s do it.”

And just like that I caved to peer pressure and we headed down the dusty gravel road behind and between tractors, pulled the swimming pool ladder from the back of Harold’s truck, scampered up (well, not quite scampered) and began our tour along the parade route.

My sofa seat view of the parade route as the Civil Defense siren swings my way. I covered my left ear (I’m deaf in my right) every time the siren passed by my face. These warning sirens were used from 1952-1970, Harold tells me.

And you know what. Except for the rotating and screaming air raid siren swinging uncomfortably close to us on the couch, the whole experience was simply a hoot. I shot photos and watched the faces of audience members who mostly smiled, finding the humor in Harold’s quirky, movable warning system.

About that Harold. He calls himself an opportunist, not only scooping up the freebie couch, but also saving the outdated and scrapped 1960 Civil Defense siren. His nephew was about to toss it.

“Somebody should keep one of these,” he remembers thinking before doing just that, then repairing the siren and mounting it on the back of his vintage Dodge. He showed me a photo from 1952 of a siren, like his, attached to a truck. The portable warning system was used in Seattle and had a range of eight miles.

Harold’s siren, obviously, doesn’t have that range or volume.

The U.S. Air Force Missile Test Center replica is housed in the box, right. And there’s the pool ladder Randy and I used to climb onto the back of the truck.

He does have, though, a missile warning system in place. Or, more accurately, he has a U.S. Air Force Missile Test Center, purchased on e-Bay for $50, attached to the rear of the flatbed. The 1963 Marx toy set shows a guarded scene of U.S. missiles ready to launch against the Soviet Union.

Remember the Cold War school drills of hiding under your desk and covering your head with your hands? Pretty silly, huh?

But then so is settling onto a recycled couch and riding on a make-shift Civil Defense truck in a rural Minnesota parade. Who cares, though? Apparently not me.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In which I meet Wilson, a member of the fun-loving Schrot family July 25, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:21 AM
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JIM SCHROT WORRIES about his relative, Wilson Schrot. After all, Jim caught Wilson attempting to steal gas from the gas barrel at Jim’s rural Faribault home last Thursday evening.

Jamie, Jim’s grown and married daughter, figures Wilson simply ran out of gas for his lawnmower and decided to help himself. She appears willing to overlook Wilson’s latest antic.

“He (Wilson) gets into a lot of trouble,” Jim says. The two don’t elaborate, but say Wilson shows up in the most unexpected of places at the most unexpected of times.

Jamie once discovered Wilson inside her tent, curled up in her bed. He’s climbed into family-owned tractors and trucks, but stopped short of stealing them.

Not that he could. Wilson, you see, is a dummy. You know, a mannequin.

See Wilson Schrot sitting there in the front passenger seat of Jim’s 1940 Ford. (I noticed several dummies in the storefront window behind the car. Wilson’s friends, perhaps, keeping a watchful eye on him?)

The Schrot family has, for the past several years, embraced Wilson and his shenanigans, ever since a cousin dragged him home from somewhere. No one seems to remember details. Or at least they weren’t sharing that information with me when I first spotted Wilson in the front passenger seat of Jim’s 1940 Ford at last Friday evening’s Faribault Car Cruise Night.

My first photo of Wilson, taken shortly before Jamie showed up to snap pictures with her cell phone.

I was photographing the Hawaiian shirt clad dummy with the blonde mullet wig when Jamie showed up to snap photos of him, too. I engaged her in conversation and that’s when I was introduced to Wilson, named after the volleyball in the Tom Hanks’ film, Cast Away.

Not that Wilson is a castaway. I mean, Jim didn’t abandon Wilson after he caught him trying to steal gas. Instead, he brought him to the car show in an apparent half-hearted attempt to find a date for Wilson.

But, Jim admits, “He doesn’t get too many chicks because of his mullet.”

Jim and Jamie suggest Wilson switch out his hair piece—he has several—to improve his appearance and likelihood of landing a date.

I’m not sure Wilson needs the Schrots help, though. He seems to draw plenty of attention on his own. An unidentified man backing his classic car into the space next to Jim’s Ford asked Wilson, “I’m not getting too close to your car, am I?” Then he noticed that the freckled Wilson with the duct taped arm was a dummy. “I’m glad no one was there to hear me.”

Jim reposed Wilson, who recently had carpal tunnel surgery (thus the duct tape), so the story goes.

The Schrot family has given Wilson a life, even going so far as to establish a Facebook page for him. Ask Jamie if she set up Wilson’s Facebook account and her quick, snipped response of “maybe” is enough to tell you she did.

Based on Wilson’s Facebook page—the public part that I can read because I’m not on Facebook—he is a country boy who likes his beer. He also likes singer Johnny Cash; the movie, The Adventures of Bob & Doug McKenzie: Strange Brew; the book, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell; and the tv show, Richard Bacon’s Beer & Pizza Club. He also enjoys the sport of beer darts.

Wilson certainly keeps the extended Schrot family entertained, laughing, making up stories and plotting his next adventure.

It is the stories, Jamie says, which make the whole Wilson gig fun, if not crazy. For example, when Wilson was caught trying to steal that gas, Jamie got the story rolling about his lawnmower running out of gas.

Ask if their family is kind of crazy and Jamie shoots back: “Everybody else is crazy, but we’re normal.”

Uh-huh, Jamie. What’s that story about the time Wilson was dismembered at a party, or as Jim corrects, a “social gathering?”

Meet Jim Schrot, not to be confused with Wilson. I first spotted Jim in September 2009 at the Rice County Steam and Gas Engine show and dubbed him the flamboyant John Deere guy. It fits. See why this family embraces the likes of Wilson Schrot.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Place it near a cornfield and they will come, or something like that July 13, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:09 AM
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“IF WE DON’T FIND a bathroom soon, I’m just going to go in a cornfield.”

Such prophetic words I pronounced as my husband and I recently entered the burg of Bellechester, population 172, mostly in Goodhue County, partly in Wabasha County, in southeastern Minnesota.

Honestly, it isn’t like I haven’t peed in a cornfield. I detasseled corn in the 1970s; I’ve squatted between corn rows.

But I’m not exactly a teen any more and the idea of walking into a cornfield on a scorching summer morning to pee didn’t appeal to me.

So, after asking a local where I could find a public restroom in Bellechester and being told there were none and we’d need to drive 12 miles to Lake City, the cornfield option seemed a very real possibility.

Not quite believing the man, though, my husband directed our van toward Bellechester’s one-block business district. Spotting the Bellechester Tavern and the Bellechester American Legion, I figured I’d dash inside one or the other and we’d be on our way.

This former bank is home to the Bellechester American Legion. Yes, I took time to photograph the Legion and the tavern even though I really, really had to go. I love old buildings, what can I say?

Look at the gorgeous architectural detail on the former bank. Yes, I know, I really should be moving along.

But wait, one more photo. Look at this faded signage on the side of the Legion.

Well, as long as I’m taking pictures, I may as well show you the bar I wished was open.

As luck would have it, the tavern and the Legion were closed. I considered the busy repair shop on the corner, for like two seconds. There’s something about walking into a garage full of men that left me crossing my legs (figuratively speaking) and nearly sprinting the other direction.

And that direction would be toward the porta potty which my kind, kind husband spotted way over yonder on the far end of a park, by the ball diamond and next to…the cornfield.

As close to a cornfield as it could be without being “in” the cornfield.

I started heading that way until my thoughtful spouse suggested we drive over there since it was too far to walk in the heat of the morning. That worked for me.

Around the corner and down a gravel road he drove to the edge of the cornfield. I handed my camera to him (I always have my camera out) and nearly rocketed out the door and into the porta potty next to the cornfield.

When I flung open the outhouse door while simultaneously buckling my belt (Hey, would you stay inside a porta potty any longer than you had to?), I realized I had made a major mistake.

After stepping out of the porta potty and before realizing the paparazzi was snapping pictures. I was reaching up to buckle my belt, just in case you are wondering whether I’m examining my hand.

That error would have been handing my camera over to my husband after carrying on about peeing in a cornfield. He most definitely recognized a photo op when he saw one.

And that, dear readers, is my peeing (almost) in a cornfield story and I’m sticking to it.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling