Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Melding music & art at Faribault’s Central Park July 28, 2015

The Lakelanders Barbershop Chorus performs in the Central Park bandshell on July 23.

The Lakelanders Barbershop Chorus performs in the Central Park bandshell on July 23.

WHILE BARBERSHOPPERS CROON, artists create. Music and art. Art and music. It seems the perfect mix for the annual summertime Concerts in the Park series held each Thursday in Faribault’s Central Park.

Pat Johnson has been at the concerts every week with her easel and paints.

Pat Johnson has been at the concerts every week with her easel and paints.

Last week I attended a concert for the first time this season and delighted in the en plein air artists scattered around the park with their easels and art supplies. They are new to the concert evenings, an idea of Jeff Jarvis, Faribault Park & Rec Enrichment & Communications Coordinator.

Pat Johnson paints en plein air.

Pat Johnson paints en plein air.

Jeff tells me the addition this year of artists injects even more spirit into the evening, provides an educational experience for concert goers and assists artists in developing en plein air painting skills in an openly musical and public setting. To keep the selected artists focused in the moment, they’re required to create music-themed artwork.

A vintage enamelware tray holds Pat Johnson's oil paints.

A vintage enamelware tray holds Pat Johnson’s oil paints.

Pat Johnson of Morristown was dipping brushes into oil on a vintage enamelware tray when I paused to watch her create a portrait of a young woman she’d previously seen at a concert. An artist for sixty years, she says painting is her passion. She’s happy to sit at the park, listening to the music and visiting. “I have been blessed with the people I’ve met,” she smiled.

Artist Tami Ochs

Artist Tami Resler

Tami's tools lie at her feet. Years ago, Tami designed the greyhound tatoo inked onto her leg in Vegas.

Tami’s tools lie at her feet. Years ago, Tami designed and got the greyhound tattoo in Kanub, Utah, after attending the Greyhound Gathering there. The Gathering raises monies for greyhound rescue.

Barbershopper details in Tami's art.

Barbershopper details in Tami’s art.

To the side of the bandshell, Faribault artist Tami Resler was surrounded by her “fan club,” a cluster of family and friends there to support her and enjoy an evening together. She was drawing with Sharpies and pencils—snippet details of a park sign, a trash barrel. Later I returned to see the faces of the Lakelanders Barbershop Chorus flared into the corner of her art piece.

Irina Mikhaylova works on a portrait of the couple in the background.

Irina Mikhaylova works on a portrait of the couple in the background.

Irina at work with her pastels.

Irina at work with her pastels.

Irina's pastels.

Irina’s pastels.

Nearby, Irina Mikhaylova used pastels to color the sketch she’d done of two elderly concert goers settled into lawn chairs. It was sweet, a lovely capture of older folks who primarily comprise this audience. There is something sweet, too, about Irina, about the thick accent that traces to her native St. Petersburg, Russia. She now lives in Morristown. Because she cannot work in the U.S. as a mechanical engineer—her former profession—she has thrown herself into her art.

Shadows and light play on Barb Bruns as she works.

Shadows and light play on Barb Bruns as she works.

Some of Barb's corralled pastels.

Some of Barb’s corralled pastels.

Barb's in-progress interpretation of the Central Park bandshell.

Barb’s in-progress interpretation of the Central Park Bandshell, in the background to the right.

On the other side of the park, Barb Bruns talked to me about blogging as she worked pastels across paper to recreate the bandshell, and the pet parade mural thereon. She is more than an artist. In Morristown, Barb operates Barb’s Custom Framing & Gift Shop with a local gallery at the front of her shop. It features the work of 27 local artists.

Artist Dana Hanson

Artist Dana Hanson

The sun shadows Dana's hand across her art as she paints.

The sun shadows Dana’s hand across her art as she paints.

Dana's dancer.

Dana’s dancer

A stone’s throw from Barb, the sinking sun spotlighted the mesmerizing art of Dana Hanson who, by freelance trade, creates art for her Lord Warmington Studio. Her grandmother, Frieda Lord, helped found Faribault’s art center. By day Dana works as a baker/cake decorator at Fareway Foods, just across the street from Central Park. On this evening, her art danced as she brushed oils into the shape of a hooded dancer in halal, the Hebrew word for praise.

Praise seems a fitting response for the addition of artists to the concerts. Jeff Jarvis confirms the enthusiastic reception. “Youngsters have emerged from the crowds to sit with ‘real’ artists—they even come back with their own art supplies to join in,” he cites.

Jeff, himself a visual artist, understands the financial and other challenges artists face in getting their work out there. “I wanted to elevate the status of visual artists by paying them to perform alongside the musicians,” he says. He accomplished that by securing a grant through the Arts & Cultural Heritage Fund.

In addition to Jeff and the five artists I interviewed, Nicole Volk, Linda Van Lear and Julie Fakler have also been among the Concerts in the Park artists. Jeff selected local and emerging artists who enjoy working outdoors. The best works of each artist will be featured in a capstone exhibit September 8 – 11 at the Buckham Center Commons area with the opening reception from 7 p.m. – 9 p.m. on Tuesday, September 8.

the sun sets behind the bandshell as the barbershoppers sing tunes ranging from "Sweet Caroline" to "God Bless America."

The sun sets behind the bandshell as the barbershoppers sing tunes ranging from “Sweet Caroline” to “God Bless America.”

FYI: The Concerts in the Park series continues for four more Thursdays with the Copper Street Brass Quintet performing July 30; Bend in the River Big Band on August 6; Jivin’ Ivan & The Kings of Swing on August 13; and The Bandshell Brass on August 20.

Please check back tomorrow for a story about a young entrepreneur who set up shop at the July 23 Concerts in the Park event. Plus, I will show you a few more concert images.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Minnesota Faces: Camp counselors July 24, 2015

Portrait #32: Counselors at Camp Omega, rural Waterville, Minnesota

Camp Omega counselors at July Fourth North Morristown celebration. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2013

Camp Omega counselors at July Fourth North Morristown celebration. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2013

They are the faces of enthusiasm, of adventure, of leadership, energy and a passion for the outdoors. They are summer camp counselors in Minnesota. Friends, surrogate moms/dads, teachers—they are all of these and none of these. They are young people. Who care.

I never had the opportunity to attend summer camp while growing up—there was no money for such extras. But my younger siblings did. When I had children of my own, I determined they would go to summer bible camp no matter the financial sacrifice.

My girls, from kindergarten age on, every summer, went to Camp Omega near Waterville. The first time I sent my eldest away for a weekend, I wondered how I would make it through camp. Me. Not her. I survived her absence and she thrived in the serene setting of woods and water in the care of faith-focused counselors.

Amber loved Camp Omega so much that she eventually volunteered there during high school and then worked two summers as a counselor. The friendships she forged and the confidence and faith-growth she experienced were immeasurable.

Some things cannot be taught by parents at home. Some must be learned in a canoe, in a raucous competition, on a climbing wall, around a campfire roasting marshmallows, in a circle of new friends with a counselor strumming a guitar, in the top bunk of a lumpy bed with whispers in the dark and the brush of branches against roof.

Mosquito bites and sunburn. Raccoon eyes and bounce of a flashlight. Rousting out of bed and falling asleep exhausted from a day of running and screaming and breathing in all that fresh air.

Camp. Counselors. Summertime in Minnesota.

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Minnesota Faces is a series featured nearly every Friday on Minnesota Prairie Roots.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Minnesota Faces: The Hitchhiker July 10, 2015

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Portrait #31: Hitchhiker in southwestern Minnesota

 

Hitchhiker at Sanborn Corners on the Fourth of July

 

For a hitchhiker, he wasn’t traveling light. A pile of bags, rather than a single backpack, rested at his feet along a rural highway.

Years ago, I would have thought nothing of a person thumbing a ride. But today and in the middle of southwestern Minnesota farm country? Yeah, I wondered.

I wondered about his story, about what and whom he’d left behind to hit the road, westward ho along U.S. Highway 14, the Laura Ingalls Wilder Historic Highway.

Where was he headed on the afternoon of July Fourth as he waited near the intersection of U.S. Highways 14 and 71, known to locals as Sanborn Corners?

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Minnesota Faces is featured every Friday on Minnesota Prairie Roots.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Why the bleep doesn’t anything last anymore? June 15, 2015

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THE NEWSPAPER IN MY COMMUNITY runs a mystery photo every Saturday. Readers are invited to identity and name the location of the place in the image. If correct, their names will be entered in a drawing for $100 in Faribault Chamber bucks at the end of the year. I’ve participated only once. I’m just not that interested in challenging my brain to identify some place in town.

But maybe you like brain teasers. So I’m challenging you to name the items in the two photos that follow. These are both at my home and are two of four items/appliances which broke within 10 days. Whoever said things happen in threes was wrong.

 

Top of hot water heater

 

PHOTO A: Why don’t they build these like they once did? This is the third one we have installed since moving into our home in 1984. The one in my mom’s house was original to the 1950s rambler and was still working in 2014.

 

Redneck door handle

 

PHOTO B: This object may or may not be familiar to you, depending on your sense of humor.

Identify these objects and you will know what we had to replace in addition to a microwave and a dehumidifier.

Try not to cheat and peek at the answers. If I knew how to turn this print upside down, I would.

ANSWERS:

Photo A shows the top of our leaky gas water heater. I entered the laundry room on a recent morning to find water spreading across the floor. I phoned the husband at work. It was only 7:15. What a lovely way to start his day. Upon his arrival home much later and after supper, we headed to the local hardware store which had exactly two gas water heaters and no one on staff who knew anything about them. Randy surmised we needed the taller one. I disagreed and suggested we return home to measure. Nope. So the taller version was loaded into our van and unloaded onto the driveway. Guess what? I was right. Eventually, with the correct size purchased, it was then time to wrestle the old water heater out of the basement and the new one into the basement. No one was injured in the process. At 8:40 p.m., the husband announced that the old pipes were not long enough as the new model differed slightly from the old. The hardware store was closed by then. Because my husband desired a hot shower after a hard day of work, we then drove to a Big Box retailer in a neighboring town for those pipes. By 11:30 p.m., he had hot water and a shower.

Photo B is an improvised door handle to replace the one that fell off in my hand one morning, leaving me locked outside. Fortunately, my son was home to let me back inside. Then, what to do. I called the husband. Again. Are you seeing a pattern here? Hey, I am not mechanically inclined or good at solving problems like this. He advised that I find a screw driver and remove the broken handle and slip wire through the holes where the handle was once secured. I did. But apparently I do not know how to twist wire as the wire broke loose, leaving me once again stranded on the back steps. The son let me back inside and retwisted the wire. It held. For the past week we have been using this wire handle, appropriately dubbed (by the husband) as a Redneck Door Handle.

There, how did you do? Did you guess hot water heater and Redneck Door Handle? If so, award yourself an “A” and then explain to me why nothing lasts anymore.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflections on graduation & time passages June 11, 2015

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ON THE AFTERNOON MY HUSBAND and I dined at Teluwut in Lake Mills, Iowa, family and friends were filtering into Jayde Thompson’s graduation reception across the street at the Senior Citizen Center.

 

Lake Mills Iowa grad reception signs

 

The juxtaposition of that reception venue was not lost on me. Young and old. Beginnings and endings.

Not that senior citizen is an end. But it’s nearer ending than beginning. And although those of us who qualify for senior citizen status may sometimes feel young at heart, we no longer fit the physical definition of young.

All too many days now I wonder how the years vanished. I was once a Jayde Thompson, albeit not a cheerleader, embarking on life, eyes focused on the future. Today it’s not as much about the future as about yesterday. Or perhaps it’s that I think more now about my children’s futures.

May and June mark periods of transition for many families. Passage of time. Ceremony and applause and tears. Moving forward and standing still. Time gone. Youth beginning that all too quick movement of days, weeks, months and years that propel into the future, to wondering where yesterday went.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

It’s in the details, my friends May 13, 2015

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Right next to Papa Murphy's Pizza on Rice Street, the family-owned and operated The Puppy Place offers all things canine, including puppies for sale.

Right next to Papa Murphy’s Pizza on Rice Street, the family-owned and operated The Puppy Place offers all things canine, including puppies for sale.

WAITING IN THE BACK SEAT of a Chevy in a Little Canada parking lot for my daughter and her husband to pick up a Papa Murphy’s pizza, I photographed several scenes. Even in idle moments, I can find subjects worthy of photography.

I then swung my camera to the left and photographed this kitschy signage at The Flameburger, "know for its flame broiled burgers and great breakfast platters."

I then swung my camera to the left and photographed this kitschy signage at Flameburger, “known for its flame broiled burgers and great breakfast platters.”

Viewing my surroundings through a Canon DLSR has heightened my awareness, caused me to notice places and details I might otherwise overlook in the visual chaos of today’s world.

Then I turned to the right to photograph these roadside messages posted to draw customers into Brady's a "local bar with great service and a wonderful fun filled atmosphere."

Then I turned to the right to photograph these roadside messages posted to draw customers into Brady’s a “local bar with great service and a wonderful fun filled atmosphere.” Lots going on in this bar apparently.

There’s something to be said for details which comprise the whole. They matter. Color. Font. Messages. A clean window or one filmed with dirt. A loud voice or one tinted with smallness. Ears that listen rather than simply hear. Voices that speak with clarity of conviction or guarded voices that speak only what is expected.

I choose to write and photograph in detail. It is part of my voice. I hold a deep appreciation for that which is often overlooked.

A wild blue violet in my lawn. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

A wild violet in my lawn. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

Today I challenge you to notice the details and to value them. Look into your backyard, into your neighborhood, into your community. See the delicate violets tucked between blades of grass in your lawn. See the closed window coverings on your neighbor’s house and determine to offer encouragement. Focus on what your community offers rather than what it doesn’t.

Notice the details.

Take the focus off yourself. If you ask someone how they are, mean it. If they answer “fine,” determine whether that is truly the truth. Often it isn’t. Search their eyes, observe their body language, listen to the intonations in their response. Care. Notice the details.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The joys of hanging laundry outside March 12, 2015

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MELTING SNOW MUSHES the lawn. Rivers of water stream across the driveway from dwindling snow piles. Water puddles in a corner of the garage. At night, sections of the driveway ice over.

But, during the day when the sun beams bright upon the land, the temperature soars into the high fifties/low sixties hinting at summer. Unbelievable in March in Minnesota.

Snow edges my patio where my clothesline unwinds between garage and house.

Snow edges my patio where my clothesline unwinds between garage and house.

The welcome warm weather prompted me to hang out my laundry for the first time in four months on Monday. It was a nippy 28 degrees when I hoisted the laundry basket onto my right hip and stepped out the back door to clip damp clothes to clothesline.

Some would call me crazy. I don’t care.

The clothespins I use are weathered by years of exposure to the weather.

The clothespins I use are weathered by years of exposure to the weather.

There’s something about hanging laundry on the line that is therapeutic. Pick and pinch, pick and pinch, pick and pinch. I work in a methodical rhythm pulling garments from the laundry basket and clipping them in an orderly fashion to the clothesline. Heaviest items like socks and jeans are hung in the brightness of the morning sun. By afternoon, when the sun shifts, the entire wash basks in solar rays.

This unstaged image captures the four seasons: summer/spring (lawn), winter (snow pile) and fall (dried leaf).

This unstaged image captures the four seasons: summer/spring (lawn), winter (snow pile) and fall (dried leaf).

After months of dreary skies and frigid cold, I love the feel of the sun upon my face, the blue of the sky, the promise of spring.

In my opinion, nothing beats line-dried laundry.

In my opinion, nothing beats line-dried laundry.

I love the connection to those pioneer women who hung their family’s laundry under a wide prairie sky. I wonder if they viewed the task as labor, just another chore to be completed. Or did they view hanging laundry as I do, as a precious, peaceful time to savor in the morning of a delightful day?

How about you, do you hang laundry outdoors?

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An unsettling phone call involving a “situation” March 11, 2015

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MY LANDLINE RINGS. It’s a few minutes before 8 a.m. Monday. My heart lurches. Phone calls early in the morning scare me. Usually the caller bears bad news. I hesitate, then pick up the receiver.

A recorded voice from the Rice-Steele County Dispatch Center delivers this message after I am instructed to push one:

Faribault Police Department and SWAT team is currently involved in a situation in the southwest part of Faribault. Citizens are not at risk and are advised to stay out of the area.

Alright then. That’s pretty general and raises all sorts of questions.

First, what’s happening?

Second, where in southwest Faribault and how do I know what area to avoid if I’m not given the location of this “situation”?

Third, if there’s no risk, then why was I called?

Fourth, is it safe for me to go outdoors?

The wooded hillside in my backyard blocks the view of my entire neighborhood.

The wooded hillside in my backyard blocks my view of Wapacuta Park and the adjoining neighborhood.

Nothing appears unusual in my neighborhood. However, because I live in the valley with a wooded hillside abutting a city park in my backyard, I don’t have a full scope view.

I dial the radio to the local station for the morning news. Nothing. I check the police department’s Twitter account. The last update was three days prior.

I hung out the laundry.

I hung out the laundry shortly after receiving the call about a “situation” in southwest Faribault.

I determine it’s safe to hang my laundry in the backyard.

I do.

Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo used here for illustration purposes only.

Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo used here for illustration purposes only.

Later, I will learn from a Faribault Daily News staff member’s Twitter account, that the “situation” occurred about two blocks from my home by Wapacuta Park. The park up the hill borders my property. Had the wooded hillside not blocked my view, I would have seen the law enforcement presence resulting after a suicidal man reportedly barricaded himself in a home. With a two-month-old. And guns.

Thankfully, the situation was peacefully resolved. About 2 ½ hours after receiving that warning call, my phone rang again with a message that the “situation” had ended.

The presence of SWAT teams in my neighborhood is not new to me. Once, many years ago, when a young man was murdered two blocks away in a drug deal gone bad, a team swept through the area searching for the murder weapon, a knife.

A Rice County sheriff squad and two Faribault police cars follow the SWAT team and ERU vehicle up First Avenue Southwest.

A Rice County sheriff squad and two Faribault police cars follow the SWAT team and ERU vehicle up First Avenue Southwest. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo May 2010.

I once saw SWAT and ERU vehicles, followed by police and sheriff cars, proceeding up a side street past my house.

Each time, it was unnerving. Scary.

That brings us back to Monday morning. Should southwest Faribault residents like myself have been given more information? Personally, I would have appreciated a more precise location. But then, again, I understand the reluctance to provide that. Doing so likely would draw unwanted onlookers.

Was the phone call even necessary?

Should the police department have posted something on their Twitter account?

Please share your thoughts.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The importance of a two-year-old’s birthday party March 10, 2015

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SATURDAY MORNING OUR NEPHEW’S WIFE texted to ask if my husband and I could come at noon, instead of 3 p.m., for her son’s birthday party.

There was no question. We would be there. At noon. Never mind that we were deep in a basement project. That could wait. The basement wasn’t going anywhere. This party was way more important.

Landson opens gifts while his grandparents, left and right, and great uncle (my husband), middle watch.

Landon opens gifts while his grandparents, left and right, and great uncle (my husband), middle, watch and visit.

Landon would turn two only once. And we wanted to be there to celebrate with his parents and brother, who recently moved back to Minnesota from Salt Lake City, and other extended family.

Landon loves his grandma's pickles and wanted some for his birthday. He got two jars. But there was no sharing. I can vouch for the deliciousness of these pickles.

Landon loves his grandma’s pickles and wanted some for his birthday. He got two jars. But there was no sharing. I can vouch for the deliciousness of these pickles, though, as my husband received a jar for his birthday. Did you notice the one sock off, one on?

Our nephew’s family lives on a rural acreage near our Faribault home. For the first time ever, we have family living close by and we are thrilled. Already in the past five months, we have seen my husband’s sister and her husband (Landon’s paternal grandparents) more than we do in an entire year as they’ve driven down to visit their son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren.

There's such joy in watching a two-year-old open his gifts.

There’s such joy in watching a two-year-old open his gifts.

Family is important to us. And, in this crazy busy world, we will always find time for family gatherings like a two-year-old’s birthday party.

How about you?

BONUS PHOTOS:

Landon had a lot of fun sticking candles into his cake.

Landon had a lot of fun sticking candles into his cake.

But then his mom removed all but two of the candles and lit them.

His mom removed all but two of the candles and lit them.

And Landon worked on blowing out those two candles.

Then Landon worked on blowing out those two candles.

© Copyright 2015 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Undergoing that most dreaded of screening tests October 29, 2014

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Two of six photos of my colon given to me after the procedure.

Two of six photos of my colon given to me after the procedure.

SHE CALLED ME a Colon Virgin.

And, at eight years past fifty, I was and shouldn’t have been.

I had my first colonoscopy on Friday.

That title bestowed upon me by the nurse taking my health history prior to the colon cancer screening made me laugh. That was her intention along with praise for the young family doctor who made sure I didn’t leave the clinic after my annual physical in July without scheduling a colonoscopy. Smart doctor.

So there I was, 3 ½ months later, lying on my back in a hospital gown, thin sheet covering me, answering health questions and dreading the procedure that would begin within the hour.

I was assured that I would not be aware nor would I remember anything while under conscious sedation. I thought to myself, they don’t know me.

The two nurses continued prepping me– inserting an IV, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my left arm, snapping a heart rate monitor on a right finger and then clipping tubes into my nose because “sometimes you forget to breathe.” Probably not the best thing to say to me.

I could feel my rapid heart rate, the tenseness that held my body. I didn’t want to be here. But, I reminded myself, I’d just endured a challenging cleansing process and I’d been through much worse than this medically. Why would I back out now?

So I tried to relax, told the two healthcare workers that I needed something to distract me. “That’s why we have music,” said the nurse with the sense of humor. For the first time, I heard the music as the two headed out the door to find the doctor.

I laid there for a really long time, or so it seemed, listening to the music, wishing it was the uplifting and prayerful Christian music I listen to daily on Twin Cities radio station KTIS. I willed my body and mind to relax and chuckled to myself when a singer crooned something about waking up when it’s done. Quite appropriate.

At the exact appointed time of 8:30, the surgeon entered the room. “I’m really cold,” I complained and was promptly layered in a heated blanket. Yes, I should have been more welcoming to this man who delivered my first daughter nearly 29 years ago by emergency Caesarean section. But at that moment on that morning, I was not particularly happy to see him again.

I told him I was nervous, made him promise that I wouldn’t remember anything. He reassured me. Last thing I remember was his request that I roll onto my left side and my wondering aloud where to comfortably place my blood pressure cuff wrapped left arm.

And that was it until I saw changing images of my colon on the computer screen.

Remember that part about not being aware or remembering? Despite my alertness, I was not anxious. The “happy juice” was still working its magic.

In the end, I made it through just fine. I survived the cleansing of my bowels, semi-fasting (liquid diet), lack of sleep and a resulting headache and lower back (kidney) pain and then the actual procedure.

The good doctor removed two non-cancerous polyps. And even though I remembered part of the colonoscopy, I wasn’t traumatized. In five years, I’ll be back because, you know, dealing with colon cancer would be a lot worse than having another colonoscopy.

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COLONOSCOPIES HAVE BEEN IN THE NEWS this week as Cologuard, a new non-invasive procedure to screen for colon cancer, is now on the market. The screening involves submitting a stool sample, which is then analyzed using “advanced stool DNA technology to find DNA from abnormal cells and hemoglobin from red blood cells” according to information on the Cologuard website. The lining of the colon naturally sheds cells.

Early reviews on this screening method are mixed. That’s to be expected.

You can learn more about Cologuard by clicking here.

Whatever you decide, if you’re age 50 or older and/or have a family history of colon cancer, don’t just do nothing. Doing nothing could cost you your life. Take that from a former Colon Virgin.

Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling