memories | Minnesota Prairie Roots

My crazy family reconnects at a rural Minnesota reunion July 29, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: family, family reunion, family reunion games, Henry and Ida Kletscher, Kletscher family reunion, memories, Minnesota, southwestern Minnesota, Vesta

My cousin Kirt leads his team in the first Kletscher Fear Factor competition by “agreeing” to a beauty make-over.

WHAT HAPPENS IN ~~VEGAS~~ Vesta stays in ~~Vegas~~ Vesta.

Kirt sports the family name on the back of his shirt.

That mantra was repeated by several of my cousins on Sunday afternoon as my extended family gathered in my hometown for the annual Kletscher family reunion.

We gather in the Vesta park across the road from corn and soybean fields. Here a John Deere tractor drives past on Sunday afternoon.

We meet in the Vesta park across the road from corn and soybean fields. Here a John Deere tractor drives past on Sunday afternoon.

Every year I anticipate this weekend celebration which brings the descendants of Henry and Ida Kletscher to the small southwestern Minnesota prairie town of Vesta. The reunion kicks off with a Saturday evening campfire and then continues the following day with a noon potluck followed by games and visiting.

The playground proves a popular area for elementary-aged through high school.

Laughter, play, competition, conversation and great homemade food define the weekend. I love my extended family and I love this reunion.

My mom, left, and several of the aunts line up to watch the afternoon games. Elaine, bundled in the fleece blanket, was the oldest attendee. She’s 91.

Since adding competitive games several years ago, the connectedness between generations has grown stronger:

Teams formed and then the make-up case was opened for beauty make-overs on three guys.

Teams formed and then the make-up case was opened for a beauty contest.

First, fairy wings for Lucas…

…and then a little make-up.

Denver undergoes a make-over for his team.

Kirt, who wanted what happens in Vesta to stay in Vesta, puckers up.

Kirt hams it up for the crowd, which voted by clapping and hooting and hollering. He won the beauty contest.

Just like my cousins and I hold dear our childhood memories of family get togethers in a time when we all lived near one another, now our offspring and theirs, are, once a year, experiencing a similar family closeness.

Dorothy, hands behind her, races to pluck raisins from rice cereal during a contest.

Dorothy, arms behind her, races to pluck raisins from rice cereal.

My cousin Terri, who co-hosts the Emmy-nominated television show, "Nature Adventures with Terri and Todd," brought a snake for part of the Fear Factor competition. She was attempting to get many family members to overcome their fear of snakes.

My cousin Terri, right, who co-hosts the Emmy-nominated television show, “Nature Adventures with Terri and Todd,” brought a snake for part of the Fear Factor competition. She was attempting to get family members to overcome their fear of snakes.

My cousin Sandy’s grandson Keelan shows no fear of snakes. Some contestants kissed the snake to earn the highest number of points.

My cousin Dawn apparently wasn’t too fond of the tapioca pudding she was racing to eat during a competition.

I can’t emphasize too much the importance of such reunions in this crazy busy world. Grandpa and Grandma would be proud to know their children and families still care enough about each other to gather every July in the place where my great grandparents, Rudolph and Mathilda Kletscher, put down roots.

The youngest attendee, 3-week-old Maddison, came with her parents from Lakeville, 120 miles away.

Henry and Ida’s offspring of all ages came to the reunion—from their oldest daughter, Elaine, age 91, to the youngest great great granddaughter, Maddison, born only three weeks ago.

Kids and families played together in the sand, too, building memories.

And as for that Vegas mantra, I warned my cousins that I couldn’t keep what happens in Vesta, in Vesta. They just laughed and said they were OK with that.

But I’m not sure my cousin Bob was OK with unknowingly eating tofu in the chocolate cream pie I brought to the potluck. When I revealed the secret ingredient, he could not hide his disgust.

“I’m supporting the soybean farmer,” I told this farmer. That didn’t seem to matter. Another memory…

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Baseball memories from rural Minnesota July 14, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: All-Star game, amateur baseball, Dundas, Dundas Dukes, major league baseball, memories, Minnesota Twins, rural Minnesota, sports

FOR BABY BOOMERS like myself, summertime memories of life in rural Minnesota are as much about consuming pitchers of sugary Kool-Aid, picking rocks and walking beans as about baseball.

Memorial Park Baseball Field, home to the Dundas Dukes., an amateur baseball team.

When I think back to the 1960s, I hear the static buzz of my older brother’s transistor radio as he dials in ‘CCO. Play-by-play with Halsey Hall, Herb Carneal and Ray Scott. Names familiar to my generation as the voices of the Minnesota Twins.

A carving of a Dundas Dukes baseball player stands just outisde the baseball field in Dundas.

A carving of a Dundas Dukes baseball player stands just outside the baseball field in Dundas.

And then the players themselves—greats like homerun slugger Harmon Killebrew and Tony Oliva and Rod Carew.

My brother, when we played pick-up games of softball after the evening chores, role-played Killebrew. There was no arguing the choice among us siblings. He was always Killebrew as we pulled on our worn gloves or thwacked the grimy softball with a wooden bat or sped across loose gravel, rounding the discarded disc plates that served as bases.

This plaque, by a baseball player sculpture at Memorial Park in Dundas,

This plaque, by the baseball player sculpture at Memorial Park in Dundas, summarizes well thoughts on baseball.

Such are my memories, along with remembering the stacks of baseball cards my brothers collected. They chewed a lot of bubblegum.

My interest in baseball, like the demise of the transistor radio, has faded through the decades. I don’t watch the game and occasionally catch only wisps of a radio broadcast.

Looking through the fence toward the Dundas Dukes' dug-out.

Looking through the fence at Memorial Park Baseball Field in Dundas.

But this week, when all eyes focus on major league baseball’s All-Star game at Target field in Minneapolis, the memories rush back.

I hear the static. The cry: “Batter up!” I see ball connecting with bat, my older brother slamming a homerun over the milkhouse. I race toward the bouncing ball, feet pounding across gravel. I scoop up the ball. And, as always, I fail to throw with any force, landing the ball far short of upheld glove. And my brother sails across home plate, arms flying. It’s another homerun for Harmon.

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Higher than your knees July 11, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: agriculture, corn, crops, farming, Fourth of July, Lamberton, memories, southwestern Minnesota

Into the cornfield and up close.

I CAN ALMOST FEEL the corn leaves slicing across my arms, hear the leaves whispering in the wind, see the stalks growing higher and higher, racing toward the prairie sky on a July afternoon.

Corn and soybean fields define southwestern Minnesota.

These are the memories I hold within my cells—the imprint of corn rows stretching into forever. My father’s work laid out before him across the acres. First, seeds dropped into the rich black soil. Next, corn rows cultivated. And then, in autumn, the combine chomping across fields. Golden kernels spilling into wagons. Trips to the grain elevator.

I see all of that in the corn growing in my native southwestern Minnesota.

Through the wildflowers…

On July 4, my husband and I waded through tall ditch grass and wildflowers to check out a cornfield near Lamberton. Back in the day, corn growth was measured against the expected “knee high by the Fourth of July” standard.

Not quite reaching my husband’s shoulders even though the corn appears head high from this angle.

Unless a farmer has to replant or gets his crop in late, his corn is more like shoulder high by the Fourth in today’s agricultural world.

Corn grows in a field next to one of my favorite barns along U.S. Highway 14 in southwestern Minnesota.

This year, though, with late planting and many fields drowned out by too much rain, corn growth appears behind the norm.

Across the fence and across the cornfield, my brother’s neighbor’s place.

But one thing remains constant, no matter the weather, no matter the year. Farmers hang on to harvest hope.

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Tattoo patriotism for kids July 10, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: family, Fourth of July, memories, patriotism, washable tattoos

GROWING UP, my exposure to tattoos involved Easter. In every package of Paas Easter egg dye came a selection of washable tattoos.

Mom suggested we wait until after Easter Sunday church services to apply the tattoos to our arms. Apparently she thought inked skin unsuitable for our Lutheran church. Sometimes we waited. Sometimes we didn’t. I won’t pretend that my siblings and I were always angelic kids who listened.

Those are my thoughts whenever I see washable tattoos. On the Fourth of July, my niece Tara pulled out two patriotic-themed tattoos she’d saved from some event.

My almost-six-year-old great niece, Ari, was thrilled about getting a tatoo:

STEP ONE: Applying Ari's tattoo with a wet washcloth.

STEP ONE: Apply tattoo with a damp washcloth.

STEP TWO: Removing the washcloth and paper for the great reveal.

STEP TWO: Remove the washcloth and paper for the great reveal.

STEP THREE: Blow on the tattoo.

DISTRACTION: Even the distraction of the camera did not stop Ari from blowing.

DISTRACTION: Even the distraction of the camera did not stop Ari from following instructions.

STEP FOUR: Show off your tattoo.

But my two-year-old great nephew, Hank, was not quite as thrilled:

STEP ONE: Applying a tattoo to a hesitant Hank.

STEP ONE: Apply a tattoo to a curious Hank.

STEP TWO: Revealing a USA tattoo to a seemingly uninterested Hank.

STEP TWO: Reveal a USA tattoo to a seemingly uninterested Hank.

STEP TWO: Revealing the USA tattoo to Hank.

HANK CONTEMPLATING.

STEP THREE: Prompt tattoo removal by Hank.

STEP THREE: Promptly scratch off the tattoo.

That’s the thing about tattoos. Some people like them and some don’t. I do. But only if they’re the washable kind.

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A rainbow of holiday memories July 7, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: family, Fourth of July, memories, Minnesota, nature, rain, rainbow, rural Lamberton

One end of the beautiful double rainbow.

THERE WAS NO NEED to search for the pot of gold at the end of the double rainbow arcing across the early evening sky north of Lamberton on July Fourth.

No need, because the garage on my brother and sister-in-law’s rural acreage held something much more precious than gold. Family.

Gathering inside the garage to watch the kids playing in the rain.

Every Fourth, my mom, my siblings and their families and my family (those who can make it) gather to celebrate our nation’s birth and a day together. It’s become a wonderful tradition—a day and evening of conversation and laughter, food and fun, as only we can mark the holiday.

My nephew and great niece dance in the rain.

My nephew and great niece jump in the rain.

We remember. We build new memories. This year we imprinted those rainbows upon our collective memory and watched as the kids played in the rain.

Follow the leader or monkey see, monkey do.

Hands splashing in puddles. Feet dancing. Hair and clothes soaked.

I shot this of my great nephew and his mom and my great niece running back to the garage.

Through the rain-streaked garage door window, I shot this image of my great nephew and his mom and my great niece running back to the garage.

Such memories, such fun times together, truly more precious than gold.

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A Sunday afternoon of memories June 11, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: Faribault, memories, Minnesota, photo essay, Rice County, rural landscape, rural life, Sunday afternoon drive, travel

IT IS THE TYPE OF DAY when clouds dodge in and out of the sky. Mostly in. The type of day when I wonder if I should grab a sweatshirt heading out the door. The type of day when, one minute my husband and I are riding with the vehicle windows rolled down, the next zipping them up as the sun ducks behind clouds and cold air rushes inside.

It is the type of day, early in June, when grass and foliage appear vibrant green in a season of excess moisture.

And I wonder how, after a deluge of rain the day prior, cars can still kick up dust along gravel roads.

Everything seems sharp and new, as if I am seeing everything for the first time on this Sunday afternoon drive. And I am, after the longest of Minnesota winters.

Barns and farmhouses scattered between fields hold memories that cause my very soul to ache for missing the farm.

I grasp snapshots of prairie memories from the scenes that unfold before me.

Crossing the Straight River southeast of Faribault.

Crossing the muddy Straight River southeast of Faribault.

Me pedaling my bike over the bridge across the muddy Redwood River.

On the other side of the bridge, train tracks in rural Rice County, Minnesota.

Me scanning the tracks as I cross the rails into Vesta.

The pick-up truck, a rural necessity.

Me sitting beside my Dad in his red-and-white Chevy pick-up, bouncing across the stubbled alfalfa field.

Birdhouse condominion perched atop a hill next to a building site in rural Rice County, Minnesota.

Birdhouse condo perched atop a hill next to a building site in rural Rice County, Minnesota.

Memories rise and fall like the hilly roads that twist and turn our van through the countryside southeast of Faribault.

Our drive takes us through Walcott Township in Rice County. I grew up in Vesta Township 120 miles to the west in Redwood County.

I’m unfamiliar with this place, yet familiar.

An aged Fordson parked alongside a road southeast of Faribault.

I know these barns, these farmhouses, these tractors, these fields. In another place, another time.

A farm upbringing imprinted them upon my soul 120 miles to the west of here.

FYI: To read my first post from this Sunday afternoon drive, click here.

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Love’s memory May 17, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: floral bouquet, flowers, love, memories, roses, wedding anniversary

CERTAINLY HE DIDN’T RECOGNIZE the significance of his choice—yellow and orange sweetheart roses in a vase tied with a yellow gingham ribbon.

Even I didn’t realize until the day after how the color choice and the ribbon transcended time. Men don’t often notice these details. And I nearly missed them in the bouquet he gave me.

On May 15, 1982, yellow sweetheart roses and babies breath ringed my short-cropped hair on our wedding day.

On Thursday, our 32nd wedding anniversary, my husband gave me a bouquet of yellow and orange sweetheart roses accented with babies breath.

Yellow roses were my bridal day flower of choice, along with daisies.

I also stitched yellow and white checked aprons for my cousins who waited on tables at our wedding reception.

It took me an entire day to connect the past to the present. And when I did, I leaned in and breathed even more deeply the fragrance of love’s memory.

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Honoring the small town feed mill March 6, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: agriculture, Cathedral of the Prairie, farming, feed mill, grain elevator, Lonsdale Feed Mill, memories, photo essay, photography, rural Minnesota, small towns

The Lonsdale Feed Mill.

SOME TERM THEM “Cathedrals of the Prairie.”

I know them simply as “the elevator” or “the feed mill,” the grey structures which, for years, have graced our farming communities.

They hold memories for me of bouncing in the pick-up truck, seated beside my farmer father, to the Vesta Feed Mill.

Deafening roar of machines grinding corn.

Dust layering surfaces. The memorable smell of ground feed, as memorable as the scent of freshly-cut alfalfa. Stacked bags awaiting pick-up or delivery.

Like barns, these feed mills and elevators are disappearing from rural America, replaced by more modern structures. Or simply falling apart.

I hold on to fading memories. And I promise to pay photographic reverence to these Cathedrals of the Prairie whenever I can.

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My “farm wife” mother inspires my winning poetry February 28, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: Arlene Kletscher, Audrey Kletscher Helbling, family, farm wife, libraries, Library Legacy funding, memories, Minnesota, Minnesota's Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund, poem, Poetic Strokes 2014, poetry, rural life, SELCO, Southeastern Libraries Cooperating, Vesta

MY 81-YEAR-OLD MOM inspires me.

She inspires me to live my life with the same positive outlook, grateful heart and kindness she’s exuded her entire life.

And she inspires my poetry. In recent poetry writing endeavors (click here and here), she has been the subject of my poems. This surprises her.

When I informed Mom that my poem, “The Farmer’s Wife, Circa 1960,” had been selected for inclusion in Poetic Strokes 2014, a regional poetry anthology published by Southeastern Libraries Cooperating, she responded with a humbleness that truly reflects her character.

“I didn’t know I led such an interesting life,” Mom said.

To most, she likely hasn’t. She grew up on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, attended Mankato Business College after high school, then worked at a government office in Marshall until marrying my father shortly thereafter and settling onto a farm near Vesta.

My parents holding my older brother, Doug, and me in this January 1957 photo.

My parents, Elvern and Arlene Kletscher, holding my older brother, Doug, and me in this January 1957 photo. Rare are the photos of my farm wife mother.

There she assumed the role of farm wife, the title given rural women long before stay-at-home mom became a buzzword. She no longer lives on the farm, having moved into my paternal grandmother’s home in Vesta decades ago.

As an adult, I now understand that her life as a farm wife was not particularly easy—raising six children on a limited income; doing laundry with a Maytag wringer washer; tending a garden and then canning and freezing the produce; doing without an indoor bathroom…

I sometimes wonder how her life would have unfolded
had she not locked eyes with my father on the dance floor…

–Lines one and two from “The Farmer’s Wife, Circa 1960”

Although I’ve never asked, I expect she dreamed of time just for herself. On rare occasions she and my dad would go out on a Saturday evening.

With those thoughts, I penned “The Farmer’s Wife, Circa 1960.” As much as I’d like to share that poem with you here, today, I cannot. That debut honor goes to Poetic Strokes, a copy of which will be gifted from me to my mom, the woman who has led an extraordinary life. Not extraordinary in the sense of great worldly accomplishments, but rather in the way she has treated others with kindness, compassion and love. Her depth of love for family, her faith and her empathy and compassion have served as guiding principles in my life.

I am proud to be the daughter of a farmer’s wife.

The cover of Poetic Strokes/Word Flow. Image courtesy of SELCO.

I AM HONORED, for the sixth time, to have my poetry published in Poetic Strokes, a Library Legacy funded project (through Minnesota’s Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund) that promotes poetry in southeastern Minnesota and specifically in SELCO libraries. Each library will have a copy available for check out near the end of March or in early April, National Poetry Month.

This year my county of Rice joins Winona County with the highest number of poets, six from each county, included in the Poetic Strokes section of the anthology. I am the sole Faribault poet with five from nearby Northfield.

Twenty-three poems from 21 poets in five of SELCO’s 11 counties will be published in Poetic Strokes 2014.

There were 196 poems submitted by 112 poets. Two published poets with PhDs in English literature and a third poet who is a former English teacher, fiction writer and contributor to the League of Minnesota Poets judged the entries.

Says SELCO Regional Librarian Reagen A. Thalacker of the judging process:

The general sense I received when the poems came back is that our judges felt that there was a great variety in subject matter and skill and that they were impressed with many of those that were submitted. There was also the overwhelming sense of having enjoyed thoroughly the opportunity to read the works submitted.

Additionally, the anthology includes 28 poems penned by youth ages 14 – 18 (or in high school) residing within SELCO counties. Twenty-eight poems chosen from 111 submissions will be featured. What an encouragement to young poets to be published in the Word Flow portion of this project.

For me, a seasoned poet, selection of “The Farmer’s Wife, Circa 1960” encourages me to keep writing in a rural voice distinctly mine, inspired by the land and the people I love.

FYI: Click here to read a full report on Poetic Strokes/Word Flow 2014, including a list of poets selected for inclusion in the anthology.

Comments (37)

“Sold, to bidder number…” February 27, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:00 AM
Tags: auction, business, memories, Minnesota, Montgomery, Montgomery Auction Barn, Turek's Auction Service

Turek’s Auction Service, 303 Montgomery Ave. S.E. (Highway 21), Montgomery, has been “serving Minnesota since 1958.” Daniel Turek, Sr., started the third-generation family business now operated by Dan, Jr. and Travis Turek. They sell everything from antique vases to real estate.

YEARS, MAYBE EVEN A DECADE or more, have passed since I attended an auction.

But once upon a time my husband and I frequented auctions, bidding mostly on furniture. Our prized dining room table came from a neighbor’s household and farm auction back in my hometown of Vesta. The matching chairs were from a sale near Morristown.

Auctions appeal to me for many reasons. There’s a certain camaraderie yet competitiveness, friendliness yet aloofness, thrill yet disappointment.

When you outbid someone or snare merchandise at a bargain price, it’s a heady feeling.

But it’s more than that. The rhythm of an auction, the mesmerizing cadence of the auctioneer’s voice, the slight nod of the head, the closeness of the crowd, the commonality of community, Styrofoam cups brimming with steaming coffee, all create an unforgettable experience.

Perhaps it’s time I attend an auction again.

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Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

My crazy family reconnects at a rural Minnesota reunion July 29, 2014

Baseball memories from rural Minnesota July 14, 2014

Higher than your knees July 11, 2014

Tattoo patriotism for kids July 10, 2014

A rainbow of holiday memories July 7, 2014

A Sunday afternoon of memories June 11, 2014

Love’s memory May 17, 2014

Honoring the small town feed mill March 6, 2014

My “farm wife” mother inspires my winning poetry February 28, 2014

“Sold, to bidder number…” February 27, 2014

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