Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Reflecting on hugs, green beans & the future on the final day of high school June 1, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:54 AM
Tags: , , , ,

My son graduates from kindergarten at Faribault Lutheran School in May 2000.

I DID NOT EXPECT melancholy to wash over me Thursday morning as I hugged my 18-year-old goodbye on his final day of high school.

But I suppose, now that I think about it, why wouldn’t I feel somewhat sad after 21 years of sending off-spring off to school.

I made it a point, with all three of my children, to send them out the door with a hug and a kiss and a “Have a good day at school.” Well, at least that was my intention. As the grade-schoolers became pre-teens and then teens, the kisses were often skipped. But not the hugs. No, not the hugs.

Thursday morning, on my son’s final day of classes, I embraced him in a lingering, vise grip hold. I expected him to resist such an emotional display of affection and pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, his lanky arms gripped tighter around me, both of us understanding this to be a bittersweet moment we wanted to remember, or at least that I wanted to remember.

Just the evening before, my son asked if I remembered his first day of kindergarten. I paused and then realized that, no, I did not recall that first day of sending him off to school.

But I did remember the day he got in trouble from his kindergarten teacher for stuffing green beans into his milk carton at lunch time. And I do recall the day he came home proclaiming he loved Mrs. K more than me. I’m pretty certain that was prior to the disappearing green beans trick.

Turns out he truly didn’t love Mrs. K more than me and he still doesn’t like green beans.

The disappearing part, though…how did the years between my son’s birth and age 18 disappear so quickly? Poof. Just like that he’s all grown up and ready to venture into the world without those morning hugs.

When my 18-year-old arrived home from his final day of classes Thursday afternoon, I welcomed him with a hug.

“That’s it,” he said.

He has no idea. It’s only the beginning.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Honoring our soldiers at a rural Minnesota cemetery May 29, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:46 AM
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Walking into the Cannon City Cemetery for a Memorial Day program.

CANNON CITY on Memorial Day is about as grassroots Americana as you’ll get.

Here locals and those rooted to this land gather in a country cemetery for an annual observance which began some nine decades ago as “Decoration Day.”

The cemetery entrance.

While a Death March and marching students and lilac wreaths and a school picnic are no longer a part of the observance, it remains firmly patriotic, firmly established as a tradition in unincorporated Cannon City near Faribault.

I came here with my husband on Monday because we’d come here last Memorial Day and were so impressed and moved by the experience that we wanted to attend again.

A snippet of those gathered for Monday’s program, including Jean Pederson, seated left, who recited “In Flanders Fields,” and others who led the program.

It is the simple, unpretentious, down-to-earth patriotic feel of this under-the-trees, between-the-tombstones, informal program that appeals to me.

Here Steve Bonde blasts “The Star Spangled Banner” and “God Bless America” and 40 voices sing “America, the Beautiful,” “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

Don Chester sets up his guitar and music before the program.

You cannot help but feel connected to your fellow Americans and to those who fought for freedom while you stand here, wind whipping song sheets, singing “Let music swell the breeze, ring from all the trees Sweet freedom’s song…”

All eyes are on the American flag.

You cannot help but feel American pride as you place your hand across your heart, turn your eyes toward the American flag flying high above the cemetery gate and recite “The Pledge of Allegiance.”

A star marks a veteran’s grave.

You cannot help but ponder the deep sorrow of families, the sacrifices of so many as the names of soldiers are read: Samuel, Ezekiel, William, Walter…

Kathleen Kanne plays a soulful song by J.S. Bach.

You cannot help but sense the spirits of the dead as 18-year-old Kathleen Kanne slides a bow across her violin in a soul-touching rendition of “Gavotte in G Minor” by J.S. Bach.

And then as Kathleen reads a tribute she’s written, you contemplate the wisdom of her words: “Cannon City Cemetery is a patch of land that lives because of the dead.”

And later, when you talk to this college freshman, you admire her determination to become more involved with the cemetery association after attending the Memorial Day service for the first time in 2011. She was visiting her father’s grave then—he died unexpectedly at age 58—and was impressed enough by the program to return and participate.

You cannot help but appreciate Cannon city native Jean Pederson who presents a history of “In Flanders Fields” before reciting “In Flanders Fields the poppies blow between the crosses row on row…”

One of many soldiers’ graves in this cemetery. Twenty-two Civil War soldiers are buried here.

You cannot help but feel grateful for freedom as Cannon City Township Board member Preston Bauer, on the spot, steps up to read The Gettysburg Address: “…these dead shall not have died in vain.”

You cannot help but place yourself in the shoes of a young soldier at war as Deb Moriarity reads the “Soldier’s Psalm,” Psalm 91: “…He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day…”

Steve Bonde, right in the distance, plays the taps.

Then, as Steve Bonde, stands at the edge of the cemetery next to a tilled field and closes the program with the mournful sounding of taps, you cannot help but feel a deep sense of grief rush over you in remembrance of all who sacrificed themselves for their country, for freedom.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thirty years together May 15, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:09 AM
Tags: , , , , ,

Audrey and Randy, May 15, 1982. We were so young then, only 25 1/2.

THUMBING THROUGH THE PAGES of our wedding album, I can barely believe that 30 years have passed since my husband and I exchanged vows on May 15, 1982.

Where did the past three decades go?

And who are those kids in over-sized glasses with more hair (him) and shorter hair (me) and both pounds lighter?

Could that possibly be us, newlyweds on the cusp of married life, grinning with the exuberance of young love?

That is, indeed, us.

Together then.

Together now.

Friends asked me Saturday night for tips to a lasting marriage. The question caught me by surprise and I simply told them they didn’t need my advice because they are doing well on their own.

Later, though, I considered how we’ve kept our marriage going strong for 30 years. For Randy and me, the fact that we were just friends before we even began dating set the tone for our relationship.

Friendship and trust. Shared values and a shared faith in God. All have been integral in our marriage.

Many times I think, too, that the similarities in our childhoods—both from farm families with little money—have curbed disagreements over finances. We live a simple, basic life and are content with what we have.

Yet, the differences between us have also benefited our marriage. Randy possesses a quirky sense of humor. He makes me laugh, lightens the moment, causes me to smile when I’d rather not. Without him, life would simply be less fun.

I am the serious one. I can organize and focus and keep everyone on task.

But I can’t handle medical situations. Our three kids have always known that they should go to Dad, not Mom, with any health issues. Need a sliver pulled? Take the tweezers to Dad. Wonder if that cut needs stitches? Consult Dad.

And when I faced health issues—a severe, three-month case of whooping cough in 2005, surgery four years ago to replace my arthritic right hip and most recently the sudden loss of hearing in my right ear—my husband was right there. I could not have managed without him. He took seriously those vows, “in sickness and in health.”

He’s also good with numbers and excels as an automotive machinist. (Get in line if you want him to work on your car or truck or van or tractor or…) This man of mine is a hard worker and has always kept his family sheltered, clothed and fed. For that I am grateful.

I’m also grateful for his strong support of my writing and photography.

For 30 years we’ve had this balance, this give and take, this relying on each other (and God) and tapping into our strengths to make our marriage work.

And, yes, most assuredly that love quotient remains, as strong, if not stronger, than 30 years ago.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My mother’s hands May 13, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:29 AM
Tags: , , , ,

My mother, Arlene, and me.

IT IS THE EARLIEST SNAPSHOT of me and my mom, dated January 1957.

Photos with her are rare; the next comes four years later. Yet, it matters not that my childhood photos fill only a few pages in an album. They are enough to see my mother’s love.

I see it in her hands, always the hands—clasping a baby or holding a toddler or encircling a child.

Hers are the hands that wrapped six babies in blankets, including me, her eldest daughter.

Hers are the hands that guided soiled cloth diapers and my dad’s grimy barn clothes into a Maytag wringer washer.

Hers are the hands that dumped buckets of water into the old tin bath tub on Saturday nights.

Hers are the hands that held books and rocked babies and swiped mecuricome onto skinned knees.

Hers are the hands that seeded seasons of gardens and hoed weeds and preserved the bounty of the earth.

Hers are the hands that peeled potatoes and stirred gravy and fried hamburger into blackened hockey pucks.

Hers are the hands that pressed coins into tiny hands for Sunday School offerings.

Hers are the hands that folded in prayer–for children and husband and her own healing.

Hers are the hands that reached out in love, always, to soothe, to calm, to protect. For nearly 57 years she has been a mother. It has been her life, her calling, and I have been blessed to be her daughter.

These are the hands of my mother, the mother I love always and forever.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Ten months after the storm, a rural Minnesota congregation returns “home” May 4, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:27 AM
Tags: , , , , , ,

St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Vesta, hours after a July 1, 2011, storm ripped half the roof from the sanctuary. Photo courtesy of Brian Kletscher.

“There is no place like home. We cannot wait to be back in our own church.”

And so, 10 months after a powerful July 1, 2011, storm packing winds of 90 – 100 mph ripped half the roof from St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in my hometown of Vesta in southwestern Minnesota, congregants will worship for the first time in their rebuilt sanctuary this Sunday morning.

I expect many of St. John’s 323 baptized members feel exactly as my uncle, Milan Stage, does—simply happy to return to the comfortable familiarity of their home church.

Since the storm, parishioners have worshiped at their sister congregation in neighboring Echo. Says long-time St. John’s member Karen Lemcke, “We thank Peace Lutheran of Echo for allowing us to join their services for all of this time. It was enjoyable to be in fellowship with them but still nice to be back in our church.”

Inside St. John’s sanctuary in September, I listened to the wind flap the tarp that covered the damaged roof.

When worshipers arrive at St. John’s Sunday morning, they will enter through a new south-facing 20 x 40-foot addition which includes a handicap accessible bathroom, storage room and study area/office for the pastor.

And above them a new south roof—the portion ripped off by the winds—and a new exterior steel roof cover the sanctuary refurbished with new ceiling planking and hanging lights.

The pews and other items from the church were moved into the undamaged social hall after the storm.

They’ll walk on new carpeting and settle onto new pew cushions to hear the sermon delivered by a former St. John’s pastor, the Rev. Randy Bader, Mission Advancement Director of Great Plains Lutheran High School in Watertown, S.D.  Says Rev. Bader, in part:

I am planning on using the Holy Spirit-inspired words of Isaiah as the basis for the sermon. It includes these words: “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.”

We may wonder why our gracious God would allow such a dangerous and difficult situation to touch the lives of His people as it did on that July day last summer. So often we do not understand. But the truth is, we don’t have to understand. Jesus has a purpose for everything that he allows to happen to us, and His ultimate purpose is to bless and save us. 

…Trust Him. His love is the constant, in, and even through, challenging circumstances.

A debris pile on the edge of the church parking lot includes pieces of steel from the roof and brick from the bell tower. Photo taken in September 2011.

Under construction in March, a pastor’s office, bathroom and storage room were added to the south side of the early 1970s era church.

St. John’s members like my 80-year-old mom, especially, welcome the reopening of the church. It’s much easier for her to drive across town to worship services and other functions than to drive or catch a ride the eight miles to Peace Lutheran in Echo. I’m thankful for family members who’ve taken my mom to church services.

During the 10 months since the storm ravaged Vesta and the surrounding area, I’ve kept tabs on St. John’s, checking in most visits back to my hometown to see how the reconstruction was progressing. This, after all, is the church where I was married 30 years ago this May 15. It is the church where my family mourned the loss of our father, maternal grandfather, paternal grandmother and many other loved ones. We celebrated family weddings here and attended confirmations and worshiped here on Sunday mornings and on Christmas Eve.

The old saying goes that a church is not a building. That adage holds true if you consider the essence of a congregation.

But, there is much to be said for a physical structure, for the memories it holds, for the comfort it gives in familiarity. Boards and walls and details in construction and décor connect us to our past, to emotions and to loved ones. A place represents, if anything, a tangible legacy of faith.

And in a farming town like Vesta, population 330, a church building also serves as a place to gather, to swap rain gauge totals and crop reports, to exchange family news, to embrace each other in sorrow and in joy, to welcome the newest residents with baptism banners, to grieve the loss of neighbors and friends and family. A church building represents community within a community, the very soul of small town life.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Fancy, fancy food at a baby shower April 20, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:26 AM
Tags: , , , ,

In the background, an aunt-to-be, the grandmother-to-be and the mother-to-be enjoy a little lunch before gift-opening at a family baby shower.

LEAVE IT TO MY CREATIVE SISTER, Lanae, and her equally creative daughter, Tara, to create fancy food which, when photographed, could grace the pages of a food magazine.

No wonder they asked me to simply bring veggies and dip to a baby shower Saturday afternoon for my nephew’s wife, Adrienne. I possess neither the knowledge, skills or talent to pull together a Martha Stewart-like spread, although I suppose I could be taught.

Just look at these dainty and lovely foods. Pretty fancy fare for someone like me who admits that cooking is not her forte.

The mother-to-be, Adrienne, poses for photos before we eat from this sumptuous spread of chicken salad and deli ham sandwiches; bacon-cheese filled phyllo shells; fruit pizza; teddy grahams with fruit dip; cupcakes; chocolate mousse; vegetables and dip; pickles; and homemade mints.

I pulled out my notebook at one point during food preparations and joked that I would be taking notes for future reference. I didn’t. Rather, I will rely on photos to guide me when I am in the position someday as the baby shower food planner.

For this Saturday afternoon, I was quite content to allow the creative mother/daughter team to pull out their pastry bags and their dip mixes, their chocolate shavings and chives spears and more to craft morsels that were almost too pretty to eat.

The mother-to-be was impressed. Who wouldn’t be?

A cheesy bacon mix was piped into each phyllo shell and then topped with a grape tomato, a snip of bacon and a spear of chives. So colorful and absolutely delicious. You cannot eat only one of these.

A triple berry fruit dip mix was piped onto these mini plates for dipping teddy grahams. So cute.

Perfect yellow cupcakes with a layer of raspberry under the frosting, topped with adorable elephant graphics.

After all in attendance ooohed and ahhhhhed over the food and over foamy punch in which a rubber ducky floated, we also discussed pregnancy weight gain and birth weights and the sex of the unborn baby in the 3-D ultrasound images that were passed around. There was also talk about cute babies and ugly babies and whether the unborn child would have “Kletscher ears,” meaning ears that aren’t exactly tiny and head-hugging.

The punch, made to resemble soapy bathwater, includes ginger ale, blue Kool-Aid and pineapple sherbet to form the "bubbles." I may have missed an ingredient in this punch prepared by Vicki.

We laughed and savored each others’ company and the joy that always comes in anticipating the arrival of a new family member. I fully expect that when we gather again, after the birth in mid June, we’ll sit with open arms, each of us awaiting our turn to hold the baby, the precious, precious baby.

With only two months to go until her son/daughter arrives, Adrienne opens gifts.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating the 80th birthday of a remarkable woman April 17, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:48 AM
Tags: , , ,

My mother, Arlene, at her 80th birthday party.

THEY TRAVELED FROM AS far away as Arkansas to rural southwestern Minnesota to celebrate the life of an incredible woman.

They came from nursing homes and farms, retirement communities and apartment buildings. They came from the house two doors down and from several blocks away.

All ages—from 11 months to 100 years old—came to celebrate the 80th birthday of a remarkable woman.

The youngest guest, 11-month-old Sophia.

The oldest guest, my mom's aunt Gladys who recently turned 100.

She’s done nothing particularly remarkable in the sense of worldly accomplishments. But she—my mother—is kind and sweet and good. She’s lived a simple life, content as a wife, mother and grandmother and as an avid volunteer.

On Sunday afternoon, in the community hall of the place she’s called home for nearly 60 years, family and friends gathered to honor her. When I stood there surveying the crowd, my emotions threatened to spill into tears as I realized how much my mother is cherished.

Guests plate up food at the birthday celebration in the Vesta Community Hall.

She is one of the strongest, kindest women I know, someone who seldom speaks ill of another and who, on more than one occasion, has given her grown children this sage advice: “Never talk about anyone else’s children (in a negative way), because you never know what your own children may do.”

Many times I have considered those words of wisdom, opting not to repeat negative comments but rather choosing to uplift a young person in praise. My mother taught me to see the good in people.

She taught me to love God and family, to put them first. Above all.

My youngest, left, and my oldest with their grandma. My middle daughter, who lives in eastern Wisconsin, was unable to attend the birthday party.

She has shown me the definition of “strong” in the face of many health challenges. We nearly lost her more than 30 years ago to a viral infection of her heart. Later she would undergo open heart surgery to replace a leaky heart valve. She battled breast cancer. In recent years, when she nearly died again, the medical staff shared their amazement at how, surrounded by her children and other family members, she rallied to live.

My mother is determined—to live life to the fullest. Each Monday morning she still gathers with friends at the cafe for coffee. And, up until recently, she enrolled in senior college classes at a nearby university. She still volunteers at church whenever she can, although she finally gave up her role as head of the Funeral Committee. She attends a monthly craft club. Every month she visited the bookmobile when it stopped on Main Street, until bookmobile service to Vesta was ended in a cost-cutting move. She is an avid reader.

She doesn’t cook much anymore, but instead often eats her noon meal at the Vesta Cafe. When Mom tells me in a phone call that she’s eaten four times at the cafe in one week, I reassure her that’s OK. She can dine out in the company of others, getting a balanced meal for less than $5. She deserves it. Lord knows she spent enough decades cooking for her six children and her farmer-husband.

This is the woman we celebrated on Sunday, this remarkable woman who has blessed my life beyond measure as my mother.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An April Fool’s Day legend April 1, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:09 AM
Tags: , , , , ,

TWENTY-TWO YEARS AGO on March 30, 1990, my cousin Jeff married Janet at the St. Louis County Courthouse in Duluth, MN. It was a small affair with only Janet’s daughters, Heidi and Amber, attending.

Jeff, who hadn’t even told his parents he was dating Janet, shared the news via a printed announcement that proclaimed “And four shall become a family.”

To say Jeff’s parents were surprised would be an understatement. Shocked would be more accurate.

As the story goes, my uncle apparently paled upon reading the news of the marriage and my aunt reacted by picking up the phone. First she called her daughter to see if she knew anything of the unexpected marriage. Dawn didn’t.

Then Marilyn phoned the Floodwood school where Jeff was teaching. I’ll let Jeff tell the story from here. And remember, this was 1990, in the days before telephones in classrooms, so Jeff was pulled out of class to take the call from his mother.

There I sat, the secretary at her desk to my right, the principal at his desk in his office to my left, both just feet away, overhearing one side of this awkward conversation about my recent wedding.

Mom, of course, had many questions—about Janet, about Heidi and Amber, about planning a wedding reception. Well, I was able to calm Mom down enough to tell her to look at the back of the card and remember what day it was, or what day had just passed.

That would be April Fool’s Day. On the back, the new groom had written: “rehcstelk ffej morf gniteerg sloof lirpa na.”

From right to left, Jeff’s message read: “an april fools greeting from jeff kletscher.”

Yes, my creative cousin had just pulled off one of the best family April Fool’s Day jokes ever, the stuff of legends. His marriage to a northwoods bride was pure fiction.

My cousin Dawn, with the help of daughter Megan, made two beautiful anniversary cakes for her brother. My Uncle Wally and Aunt Janice made and decorated the other cake with the beanie baby bears.

Twenty years after that fake marriage, we celebrated Jeff and Janet’s 20th wedding anniversary at the annual Kletscher family reunion in 2010. We decorated the shelterhouse at the park with anniversary banners, crepe paper and tissue paper bells. Relatives came bearing gifts. And there were even three anniversary cakes to celebrate the occasion.

CAN ANYONE out there top Jeff’s April Fool’s Day prank? I’d like to hear. (BTW, my cousin is still single.)

April Fool’s jokes during my childhood consisted of these:

Your toast is burning!

The bus is here!

The cows are out!

I know. Not at all creative.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In Clintonville: I survived the 1.5 March 28, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:52 AM
Tags: , , , , ,

The Booms Are Back! Residents of Clintonville Are Reporting Very Loud Noises on Tuesday Night!

So screams the headline scrolling across the Clintonville Chronicle website today as this Wisconsin community northwest of Green Bay experiences yet more unsettling booms following a recent 1.5 magnitude earthquake that rattled residents.

Since my second daughter lives in Appleton about 40 miles to the south, I’ve taken a special interest in Clintonville. Geologists determined that a “swarm” of earthquakes, amplified by Wisconsin’s unique bedrock, caused the shaking and sonic type booms that have awakened and frightened residents in this town of 4,736.

Yes, I would be scared, too, if the earth started rattling and rumbling.

And, just for the record, my daughter has been to the small medical clinic in Clintonville for her job as a Spanish medical interpreter, although not recently.

In perusing the newspaper website, I am happy to see that Clintonville is already embracing the economic opportunities that come with being thrust into the national spotlight. T-shirts emblazoned with “I Survived the 1.5” can be purchased in Clintonville or ordered online. Click here for more information about those shirts.

T-shirt sale profits “will be used to beautify or enhance something in our City as determined by the Mayor at a later date,” promo info reads. “This is not meant to make light of a serious situation but to show that we, as a community, came together to get through the events of this week.”

Let me interject here to applaud the folks of Clintonville. This is one of the attributes I admire in small towns. Togetherness.

I expect that the earthquake marks the biggest news event ever in Clintonville. In a typical week, you’re more likely to read top stories like these from the March 20 Chronicle: “Clintonville Sheep Now Famous,” “Christus to Host Spring Luncheon” and “Sheriffs Seek Evidence of Burglary” rather than “City of Clintonville is Booming.” Click here to access the award-winning Chronicle home page.

All of that booming has also prompted some Clintonville residents to purchase earthquake insurance. (Click here to see a map of  March 19 – 21 quake-related reports from Clintonville.) My daughter mentioned the insurance sales to me yesterday during a noon-time phone conversation, just before she headed out the door to a clinic in New London, some 15 miles south of Clintonville.

WHAT ARE YOUR thoughts on an earthquake in Wisconsin, of all places?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Making mints, not quite like the masters, in March March 26, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:01 PM
Tags: , , , ,

IT WAS TEMPTING, mighty tempting, to pinch off a snippet of dough and roll it between my palms into the shape of a skinny squiggly snake.

But…, instead, I had to, like the others, abide by the rules and turn out molded hearts and roses, butterflies and shells, doves and rabbits…

It is what our aunts and mother, experts in the art of mint-making, would expect. For decades, these women have crafted homemade mints from cream cheese and powdered sugar for special family occasions like graduations, confirmations, weddings, bridal and baby showers, and birthdays.

A new generation of mint-makers crafted mints Saturday afternoon on my sister Lanae's deck. I took a break (that's my empty chair in the front) to photograph the event. Can you believe this is March in Minnesota?

Saturday afternoon nine family members—none of whom were my aunts or my mother—gathered at my sister Lanae’s Waseca home to carry on the tradition of mint-making. Just to be clear, this was a one-time deal since we were preparing the mints for my mom’s upcoming 80th birthday party. We figured she shouldn’t have to make mints for her own party.

We just hope the professional mint-makers aren’t too harsh in judging our mints because, well, quality control ranked below the fun factor during our mint-making session.

For example, my oldest niece claimed that some of the roses I molded resembled snowflakes. But the teacher in her, not wanting to criticize too much, said how nice that snowflakes are each unique. Uh, huh. Even I understood that remark. She wasn’t exactly awarding a star for superior mint-making.

My 10-year-old niece, the youngest of the mint-makers, pushes the powdered sugar/cream cheese dough into a mold. She's mixing colors. Don't you love her nail polish?

Expressing ourselves with multi-colored mints which will now need to air-dry for about five days.

Even the guys, AKA my husband on the left, and my middle brother, made mints.

I suppose you could say we weren’t stellar students. We did not follow the masters’ examples precisely, choosing to exercise our artistic freedom by molding multi-colored mints. “What will the aunts say?” we asked each other, barely masking our laughter.

At one point, someone suggested dipping a mint in salt, rather than sugar, just to shake things up a bit with the experienced mint-makers. But we decided not to rattle the masters too much.

If you’re among those attending my mom’s birthday party open house, enjoy the mints. And remember, these were not made by the master mint-makers.

Do you spot any snowflakes among these roses? I didn't think so.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling