Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Shopping for antiques in St. Peter is like way cool March 14, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:05 AM
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IF YOU HAD PREDICTED 40 years ago that I would be poking around antique stores someday, celebrating the past, remembering the days of my youth, I would have rolled my eyes.

The mere suggestion of such behavior would rate as totally uncool.

But long ago I discovered that antiquing is, indeed, cool, if not downright groovy. Just to be clear, I categorize 1970s merchandise as collectibles, not antiques.

Patrick's on 3rd anchors the corner on the left with Diamonds in the RUST on the right. Diamonds sells merchandise from antiques to present. Love that name.

Patrick’s on 3rd (bar and restaurant) anchors the corner on the left with Diamonds in the RUST on the right. Diamonds sells merchandise from antiques to present. Love that name.

That said, when I entered the charming Diamonds in the RUST shop along Park Row Street three doors down from Patrick’s on 3rd, which I’m told makes the best burgers in St. Peter, I automatically fell in love with the place.

Diamonds in the RUST, looking toward the front of the store.

Diamonds in the RUST, looking toward the front of the store.

See how the sunlight streams through those windows and onto the floor and merchandise.

Love how the sunlight streams through those windows and onto the floor and merchandise.

Light flooding through a street-side bank of tall windows, patches of sunlight slipping across the wood floor, artfully arranged merchandise and then, that most fabulous find of all, a Joseph’s coat of many colors sweater, defined this as one happin’ place.

Seventies coming of age child that I am, my eyes connected with that multi-colored sweater like a hippie drawn to a peace symbol.

The sweater similar to one I wore in the 70s.

The sweater similar to one I wore in the 70s.

“I had a sweater just like that,” I shared with the shopkeeper, although, on closer inspection, I discovered this to be a Tommy Hilfiger replica and not exactly like the sweater I paired with my hip huggers. Oh, well, I thought, and then wondered aloud if my mom, the keeper of everything, had saved that groovy sweater from my teen years. It’s possible; I recently retrieved lime green cuffed, flared pants, with about a size 18-inch waist (was I really that tiny once?), from her basement.

Ah, how antiquing prompts memories…

I own a vintage Chinese checkers board similar to these, found at a garage sale 30 years ago.

I own a vintage Chinese checkers board similar to these, one I found at a garage sale 30 years ago.

Then I spotted two Chinese checkers boards flaunting their psychedelic hues. I always connect Chinese checkers with my farmer dad, gone 10 years now. He never had time for board games. But pull out the metal Chinese checkers game and he was right there with the rest of us gathered around the Formica kitchen table, his clumsy fingers guiding marbles into place.

I would never buy a dead (or live) pheasant, but someone might.

I would never buy a dead (or live) pheasant, but someone might.

More memories of my dad surfaced when I sighted a taxidermy pheasant perched on a slip of wood set upon that beautiful wood floor. I am not a hunter. But, as a child, I would occasionally accompany Dad on his way to the slough—a grassy waterhole long ago drained and converted to farmland—to hunt for pheasants. It wasn’t the actual act of walking the land, searching for pheasants, that appealed to me. Rather, it was the rare opportunity to be with Dad when he was not in the barn or field that drew me to the hunt. I did not understand that then. But I do now.

Pheasant glasses like this are coveted by some members of my extended family.

Pheasant glasses like this are coveted by some members of my extended family.

I didn’t purchase any of those memory items at Diamonds in the RUST, only snapped photos, including one of a set of pheasant glasses that would interest my middle brother or niece’s husband.

A snippet of downtown St. Peter, along Highway 169.

A snippet of downtown St. Peter, along busy U.S. Highway 169.

Down the block and around the corner, walking St. Peter’s main drag, I slipped into a memory lane high when my husband discovered copies of Tiger Beat magazine in another antique store. Oh, my heart. The Beatles. The Monkees.

My beloved Tiger Beat magazine.

My beloved Tiger Beat magazine.

Cousin Joyce, who was two months younger than me, but way more worldly because she had two older sisters and therefore knew about stuff like boys, green eye shadow, David Cassidy and fishnet stockings long before me, introduced me to Tiger Beat. Back in the days when relatives still “visited” each other, Joyce and I would stretch out on her bed stomach side down, knees crooked, feet rocking, paging through the pages of Tiger Beat. And for a few hours I felt like I was hip and, mostly, totally, in love.

BONUS PHOTOS:

Another 70s find in an antique store that was closing for good on the day we shopped there.

A 70s bridal gown found in an antique store that was closing for good on the day I shopped there.

Love that cobalt blue in glassware showcased at Diamonds in the RUST.

Love that cobalt blue in glassware showcased at Diamonds in the RUST.

The whimsical design of these elephant glasses (shot glasses/juice glasses?) caught my fancy at Diamonds in the RUST.

The whimsical design of these elephant glasses (shot glasses/juice glasses?) caught my fancy at Diamonds in the RUST.

© Copyright 2013 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

 

One family’s journey: Five years after the Cottonwood school bus crash February 13, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:01 AM
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SHE ASKS IF I REMEMBER “the cupcake thing.”

But I have only a vague recollection of lots and lots of cupcakes.

Traci Olson, though, remembers, like yesterday, the details of “the cupcake thing,” which she compares to the biblical account of the feeding of the 5,000.

First, the cupcakes started coming in, then more and more and more for her 9-year-old daughter Emilee’s funeral. There were enough left over to serve mourners at the funeral of the Javens brothers, Hunter, 9, and Jesse, 13. The cupcakes just kept coming, so the sweet treats were also offered at the funeral of Reed Stevens, 12.

Still, all the cupcakes had not been eaten. So whoever wanted the mini cakes could take them home.

Lakeview kitchen staff bakes cupcakes each February to celebrate the four students.

Lakeview kitchen staff bakes cupcakes each February to celebrate the four students.

“The cupcake thing” didn’t end in February 2008, when Emilee, Hunter, Jesse and Reed, all students at Lakeview Public School in Cottonwood, died in the crash of their school bus and a mini van. Five years later, the tradition continues every February 19 (or the nearest date school is in session) at Lakeview. The cooks bake cupcakes and frost them in the students’ favorite colors—pink or purple for Emilee, red for Reed, green for Hunter and black for Jesse.

It is a way to celebrate the lives of the four, whom Traci describes as “fun, happy-go-lucky kids.”

“We don’t want the kids to be defined by how their lives ended,” she emphasizes.

Traci, who teaches early childhood special education at Lakeview, has, by default, she says, become the key organizer of Lakeview’s annual Journey of Hope, a community gathering to celebrate the lives of those lost and the healing that has taken place since that February 19 afternoon in 2008 when life forever changed in Cottonwood, a farming town of 1,200 in southwestern Minnesota.

Timberwolves mascot Crunch during an earlier appearance at Lakeview.

Timberwolves mascot Crunch during an earlier appearance at Lakeview.

This year’s celebration is slated for Valentine’s Day and starts with an afternoon presentation on bullying by Minnesota Timberwolves mascot Crunch followed by a community gathering in the evening. That includes serving of pulled pork sandwiches beginning at 5 p.m., photos with Crunch, a slam/dunk half-time show and three basketball games.

Traci says Journey of Hope has always focused on the positive, not on mourning the community’s loss.

Days before the five-year anniversary, Traci shared her thoughts with me, in an hour-long phone interview, about her daughter, life since the crash and the healing that has taken place. We did not discuss Olga Franco del Cid, who was driving the mini van that blew through a stop sign and slammed into the school bus. Franco del Cid was convicted of criminal vehicular homicide and other charges and sentenced to 12 ½ years in prison.

Chun Wen (Emilee) in China

Chun Wen (Emilee) in China

TRACI REMEMBERS WITH CLARITY the first time she laid eyes on baby Emilee in China. Chun Wen, among about 20 babies, just sat and stared at her adoptive mom. “I picked her up and she was mine,” Traci says of her strong-willed, independent girl with the deep, raspy voice who came home to Minnesota at 10 months of age.

Emilee LaVanche, as Traci and Charlie Olson renamed their daughter after Traci’s grandparents Emil and LaVanche, fit right in with her older siblings, Bailee and Sidnee. She emulated Bailee’s piano playing, becoming an accomplished pianist, and eventually followed the family’s passion for showing horses. On her seventh birthday, Emilee got her own horse, Barbie.

“Everybody knew her,” Traci says of her outgoing and vivacious daughter who made friends wherever she went. She would light up a room or a show ring. And she was, most assuredly, Traci says, a blessing to her and Charlie’s family, which at the time of Emilee’s death included Bailee, 14; Sidnee, 11; and Rilee, 6.

Traci would later return to China for the third time (Rilee is also from China) to adopt seven-year-old Lucee. She makes it clear that Lucee is not meant to replace Emilee, noting rather her deep love of children: “I was meant to be with kids and to do stuff with kids.”

Emilee with her horse, Barbie

Emilee with her horse, Barbie

ON THE AFTERNOON OF THE CRASH, Traci, then a health and physical education teacher at Lakeview, told Emilee, “You need to ride the bus (home about two miles)… I love you.”

That marked the last time she spoke to her daughter.

A short while later her husband, a part-time school bus driver, phoned to tell Traci about a “bad bus accident” half a mile from their farm. Traci rushed to the crash site to help.  Then, upon realizing it was her children’s bus, she desperately began searching for her three kids riding the bus that day. She found Rilee, but could not locate Sidnee or Emilee.

As Traci recounts the aftermath of the crash which killed four and injured 17, she describes a chaotic scene, “a lot of hoping and praying,” racing to the hospital in nearby Marshall, helicopters coming and going, her desperate inquiries for information about “the only Chinese girl on the bus,” the family’s journey to Sioux Falls where Sidnee underwent emergency surgery for a lacerated eye, and the eventual visit to the funeral home to identify Emilee.

Traci recalls a phone conversation with her sister. “I can’t find Sidnee and Emilee. This is really, really bad.” In that moment, when she could not find her daughter, Traci says, “I knew right away.”

Emilee and Sidnee were sitting across from each other half way back on the bus, Emilee with Hunter. Jesse and Reed were behind them. Rilee was at the front of the bus.

Thinking back to that awful day, Traci says, “You never move on, but you’re forced to move forward. We can’t change it, we can’t make it go away.” But, she is determined that her surviving kids, now ages 9 – 19, not reference their lives “before and after Emilee.” And she is determined, too, to celebrate Emilee’s life.

For example, each year Traci celebrates Emilee’s November 2 birthday with her classmates. This past November, the now Lakeview 8th graders made and donated 30 fleece blankets to the Ronald McDonald house in Rochester. In the past, Emilee’s classmates have made Native American horse sticks and welcomed former WCCO TV news anchor Don Shelby in honor of their classmate’s birthday. Lakeview students got copies of Shelby’s inspirational book, The Season Never Ends.

The birthday party always focuses on honoring her daughter in an educational and memory-building way, Traci says. And it always ends with serving of Emilee’s favorite root beer floats.

Traci also coaches Emilee’s classmates’ basketball team.

“My saddest day will be when no one will remember who Emilie is,” Traci shares.

THAT IS NOT LIKELY to happen any time soon as Traci speaks of a caring community that continues to “wrap their arms around us and the other families.” Good friends before the crash, the Olson, Javens and Stevens families now lean on one another.

Not that there aren’t difficult days. Her family is open and honest enough, Traci says, to admit when they’re having a bad day. Sometimes that means stepping out of school for 20 minutes to cry in her car, or doing something with the horses or her family to deal with the grief. She’s especially grateful, Traci notes, for supportive school administrators and colleagues.

Losing a child “makes you totally rethink what’s important,” Traci says. And for her and Charlie, that’s being together as a family, participating in those competitive Ponies of America Club horse shows, celebrating Emilee’s birthday and more. “We’re not thinking coulda, shoulda, woulda.”

The Olsons also have adopted a new perspective on life as they’ve already endured the most difficult of losses. “If we lose a crop (the Olsons farm), we can live through that,” Traci says.

TODAY THE FAMILY CONTINUES to sense Emilee’s presence in their lives, whether in the pink and purple of a prairie sunset or someone mistakenly calling Lucee—now nine years old, the same age as Emilee five years ago—by her older sister’s name.

Traci tells me, too, “It is really hard to believe it has been that long.”

Five years.

But for this mother, the details of the day she lost Emilee remain as clear as the day she first locked eyes with her little girl in China.

Lakeview School graces the front of a thank you card I received a month after the bus crash.

Lakeview School graces the front of a thank you card I received a month after the 2008 bus crash.

FIVE YEARS AGO on February 19, I “knew” that an extended family member was on that same bus Emilee, Hunter, Jesse and Reed rode.

My cousin Joyce Arends’ grandson, 8-year-old Bryce, suffered minor injuries in the crash. Wanting to show my concern, I mailed a book, teddy bear and candy to Bryce as well as a note and memorial gift to Lakeview School.

I received thank yous from Bryce and the school and I’ve saved both.

Bryce told me he’d named his bear Fluffy and was sleeping with him.

The school responded, in part, with this message:

The outpouring of response from across the state, the nation, and even the world has overwhelmed all of us at Lakeview School, but the power of that support has given us strength and has allowed us to begin the long process of healing. Please know that we are all grateful.

I expect on this, the five-year anniversary of the bus crash, that Lakeview School, the Olsons, Javens and Stevens families, and the community remain grateful for the ongoing support of those who remember their children, for Emilee, Hunter, Jesse and Reed truly were all of their children.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Photos courtesy of Traci Olson

 

A sister’s love, more precious than jewels December 27, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:53 AM
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ONCE UPON A TIME, in the land of Prairieville, an aging princess (in name only) arrived at the country estate of her middle brother just days before Christmas.

Unbeknownst to the princess, her middle sister, who is nothing like Cinderella’s wicked stepsisters and who also had journeyed from a yonder land, planned for the princess the most splendid surprise.

The princess had just shrugged off her pea coat and greeted her family when Sir Stephen stepped forward to present a present to the stunned princess. Thinking perhaps that her fun-loving nephew was about to play a prank upon her, as family members are sometimes wont to do, the princess accepted the gift with trepidation.

The first gift package, from Nixie, Fairy of Water.

The first gift package, from Nixie, Fairy of Water.

She pulled a dainty tissue-wrapped package from a gift envelope, allowing the tiny package to fall onto the floor for fear of what she may discover inside. With great care, she soon retrieved and unwrapped the gift. A lovely ring fell into her palm.

Before the princess could even slip the jewel onto her finger, another family member stepped forward with a present, followed by nine more packages into which child-size rings had been tucked.

By that time, the princess had determined that her kind-hearted sister, Lanae, had hatched the entire marvelous scheme to write a happily-ever-after ending to a story which began decades earlier on a Prairieville farm.

Many years ago, when the princess was much younger, she lost an emerald ring (not a “real” emerald, of course) gifted to her by her godmother. Despite a frantic search of the family farm, the precious jewel was never found. The princess was overcome with inconsolable sadness and never forgot that lost ring.

A sampling of the rings gifted to me by 11 fairies. These will be passed along to some sweet little girls I know.

A sampling of the rings gifted to me by 11 fairies. These will be passed along to some sweet little girls I know.

Because all fairy tales should end happily, the princess’s loving sister, Lanae, gathered, from various fairies of the world, a collection of fine jewels. Nixie, Fairy of Water; the White, Frost, Tooth, Sugar Plum, Woodland, Snowflake and Ice fairies; the Queen of the Fairies; The Little Fairy Fayette; and Tinkerbell all contributed gems to the cause.

The final ring, an "emerald," to replace the one I lost nearly 50 years ago.

The final ring, an “emerald,” to replace the one I lost nearly 50 years ago.

After the princess had unwrapped 11 packages of child-sized rings, a final box was presented to her from the Fairy Godmother. Inside, the princess found a sparkling imitation emerald, even more beautiful than the one she had lost on her childhood farm nearly 50 years earlier.

The aging princess was overcome with joy as she slipped the emerald ring onto her finger and raced to embrace her sister whose kind heart overflows with goodness and love.

THE END

THANK YOU, LANAE, for blessing me with this wonderful gift. I appreciate the thought, time and effort you put into pulling off this royal surprise. You made me feel like a real princess and I shall always cherish this gift of the heart from you to me.

TO READ my first posting about the lost ring of my youth, click here.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Troll tales November 23, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:03 AM
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Norway native Steinar Karlsen carved this troll at the 25th annual 2002 Scandinavian Hjemkomst Festival in Moorhead.

EVER SINCE I WAS a little girl, trolls have held a special fascination for me.

That curiosity and, yes, even a tinge of fear, relate to the storybook, The Three Billy Goats Gruff. In that Norwegian folk tale, three different-sized goats attempt to cross a bridge under which lurks a hungry troll. The smallest goat tricks the troll into waiting for the middle-sized goat which tricks the troll into waiting for the biggest goat which then bucks the troll into the river.

Can you understand how this might both frighten and empower?

This bridge, near Hammond in southeastern Minnesota, is similar in style to the Minnesota River “troll bridge” of my youth. The “troll bridge” along Minnesota Highway 19 near Morton was replaced by a more modern bridge. But the old one, last I traveled that section of roadway, still stands nearby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo, 2010.)

I always thought of this goat-trolling troll whenever my father steered the family car across the Minnesota River bridge near Morton on our annual trip to “the Cities” to visit relatives. My anxiety level rose ever so slightly as the car curved down Minnesota Highway 19 toward the bridge.

In the back seat, my four siblings and I (the youngest sat up front) and grandpa, packed shoulder to shoulder, curled our fingers into clenched fists, prepared to take on that troll—by pounding with determined ferocity on the interior roof of the car.

My other childhood troll encounter occurred when I turned nine and celebrated my one and only birthday party ever with classmates. One friend gifted me with a wild, pink-haired troll which stood a mere inch or so tall. She, the troll, not the friend, was also a piece of jewelry with a pin attached.

I treasured that troll, still do, because trolls were popular then and I had none. Suddenly, I was just like my classmates; I owned a troll, albeit a teeny one.

A side shot of the two trolls carved by Steinar Karlsen and displayed at the Hjemkomst Center. Since 1990, this artist has created 400-plus life-sized human sculptures and hundreds of animals, birds and sea life.

Imagine how thrilled I was decades later when my girls were preschool and early elementary ages and trolls were back in vogue. I bought them doll-sized trolls to cuddle and families of mini trolls. The bright-haired ogres lined the window in their toy room, their mops of hair bleaching in the morning sun.

Trolls evoke such a mix of memories for me. How about you?

BONUS PHOTOS, just because I have no other category into which to slot these two Hjemkomst Center images, but wanted to share them:

A beautiful and historic mosaic graces a wall in the entry to the Hjemkomst Center.

Next to that troll bench carved by Steinar Karlsen are these flags hung from the balcony railing overlooking an atrium. I couldn’t find any info as to the reason these specific flags are there.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Veterans’ Day: Grief in a shoebox November 11, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:22 AM
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IT IS BUT A SINGLE SLIP of paper, creased and yellowing with age. Yet, it is so much more. The words typed thereon, 59 years ago, hold heartache and honor and memories of my soldier father and his buddy.

My father shipped home from Korea into the welcoming arms of family.

Cpl. Ray W. Scheibe shipped home from Korea in a box, to a grieving family.

The third section of the memorial service bulletin my soldier dad carried home from Korea.

It’s all there, on that piece of paper, a memorial service bulletin dated July 31, 1953, Sucham-dong, Korea. My father folded that paper into quarters, carried it across the ocean and across the country and back home to southwestern Minnesota and then tucked his grief inside a shoebox.

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

Cpl. Ray William Scheibe lost his life in Korea June 2, 1953, when he was hit by a round of mortar fire, according to information received from a buddy. He was a member of an infantry unit and was on patrol duty at the time of his death.—from The Wolbach Messenger, Thursday, July 23, 1953.

Sgt. Elvern Kletscher, my father, witnessed the horrific death of Ray, who was due to ship out the next day. Back in tiny Wolbach, Nebraska, Ray’s wife, Marilyn, and their 3-month-old daughter, Terri Rae, waited.

The memorial service bulletin lists the names of those soldiers who died, including Ray Scheibe.

Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13—scripture quoted in the memorial service folder dated July 31, 1953, Sucham-dong, Korea.

An in-ground marker honors my father, Elvern Kletscher, a Korean War veteran and recipient of the Purple Heart for wounds he suffered at Heartbreak Ridge in Korea. My father did not receive his Purple Heart until 2000.

This Veterans’ Day let us remember, always, those who have served and are serving.

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

The cover of the 1953 memorial service folder from Korea.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The comfortable familiarity of Freedom August 19, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:09 PM
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IF YOU’VE EVER STEPPED inside a building and felt like you’d been there before, but you haven’t, then you can relate to the story I am about to share in photos and conversation. Come on. Let’s open the door and enter Immanuel Lutheran Church, Freedom Township, rural Janesville.

Ah, the double front doors are locked. We’ll try the side door. Good, it’s open. I wonder if there’s an alarm system. I don’t want the Waseca County Sheriff showing up. Let’s go up the stairs to the main level.

Now where are the light switches? Oh, right there next to the guest register. I like that old light by the guest book. Wonder if it works? Nope. Sorry, almost anything can distract me.

Even with the lights on, it’s kind of dark in here. Maybe we should open the shades. There, that’s better.

That altar and Jesus statue look familiar. They remind me of the altar and statue in St. John’s Lutheran Church, Vesta, the church where I grew up. And isn’t that organ a beauty?

I wonder if there’s a nice wood floor under that carpet. And what’s hiding under all those ceiling tiles?

Well, instead of standing here wondering, we better keep moving along if we’re going to get to the mission festival at Marquardt’s Grove by 10:30. I have much to see yet and photograph.

But wait a minute, what’s that over there on that post? An old thermometer. Huh, wonder how long that’s been here?

Alright, let’s head upstairs and see what’s in the balcony. It’s kind of tempting to pull that bell rope, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ve never given in to such temptation.

But I will move that wastebasket and stack of Vacation Bible School supplies so I can photograph that time-worn bench. Need to let a little natural light in, though, so I’ll pull up the shades. That’s better.

Oh, my goodness, look at those stars on that attendance sheet. I haven’t thought about those shiny, sticky stars in decades. I remember when my Sunday School teacher awarded stars for attendance. I thought they were the greatest thing. The memories…

Time to head down to the basement after I take a few more pictures up here. Yes, I have got a good grip on my camera. I don’t want it tumbling over the balcony railing.

Now, down to the basement we go. I need to pause here for a minute and take it all in.

Those curtains—see those curtains there—St. John’s had those in the basement, too. The curtains divided the basement into classrooms for Sunday School. I didn’t know churches still used those. I can almost hear the grating sound of those curtains closing and opening and remember how we kids had to take turns pulling the fabric closed, then open, at the end of Sunday School. Sweet memories…

Well, I better stop reminiscing because it’s after 10 a.m. and we do need to get to that worship service down the road in the cow pasture.

But, wait, I see one more thing I need to photograph…those lambs representing baptized children…

FYI: Immanuel Lutheran Church, commonly known as Freedom Church because of its location in Freedom Township, is located along Waseca County Road 3 about nine miles south of Janesville. Founded in 1874, this Lutheran Church Missouri Synod congregation has a total baptized and communicant membership of 114.

The organ in the church, interestingly enough, came from Trinity Lutheran Church in Faribault where I have been a member for 30 years. When Trinity upgraded to another organ in 1911, the old organ was moved on a sled pulled by oxen some 40 miles to Freedom Church.

Freedom Church is not typically unlocked, but was open on the Sunday of my visit so members could leave food in the church basement for the mission festival potluck, according to member Joan Quiram. A big thank you to Joan for inviting me to the annual mission festival of Freedom and Wilton churches. You can read and view photos of that event by clicking here and then here.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In southern Minnesota: “An old-time mission festival out in the woods” August 7, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:45 AM
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A sign marks the mission festival site at Marquardt’s Grove where cattle gates to the pasture are opened to allow entry. That’s the dry bed of Bull Run Creek on the left.

AT 8 A.M. SUNDAY, Harold Krienke swung his truck into Marquardt’s Grove some 10 miles south of Janesville to help set up for the annual mission festival in the woods near his country church, Immanuel Lutheran.

It was then he spotted the large black cat with the long tail edging dried up Bull Run Creek some 100 feet from the site where worshipers would gather 2 ½ hours later. “It wasn’t a house cat,” Krienke laughs. The cat—perhaps a panther, some speculate—didn’t scare him; it had been seen previously in the area.

Krienke’s animal encounter certainly wasn’t the first, and won’t be the last, at this mission festival held for the past 75 years in a five-acre wooded section of a 70-acre pasture where cattle still graze days before the event. Last year several head of cattle busted through an electric fence and charged across the creek toward the worship site. Another time horses caused a bit of trouble. No harm done, though, as the wayward animals were chased away.

Len Marquardt, who owns the woodlot and pasture, previously owned by his father, Alfred, and Alfred’s father, Gustav, before him, takes it all in stride. A few wandering animals won’t stop him from continuing the tradition of three generations of his family hosting the long-time festival of Freedom Church, as it is commonly known (referencing its location in Freedom Township), and the past two years in conjunction with Trinity Lutheran Church, Wilton Township, also known as the Wilton Church.

An overview of the worship site with the Freedom Band seated on the stage and the audience seated on plank benches and lawn chairs on the hillside. Freedom and Trinity Pastor Glenn Korb is standing at the makeshift altar.

Len’s heart and soul are committed to what he defines as “an old-time mission festival out in the woods.”

That definition seems apt for this event which, many Freedom members estimate, has been ongoing for a century. In the early days, area farmers took turns hosting the annual summer mission festival. The outdoor worship service has always been held around the same time of year, initially chosen, Len says, because the wheat harvest would have just been completed and farmers would have had more money to donate to the church.

Offerings are collected in ice cream buckets at the mission festival.

Money, though, has never been the focus of the festival although a collection is taken. Rather, the purpose is to “help people to focus on missions,” says Len, who several years ago accompanied his daughter, Julie, and others on a mission trip to Nicaragua. It changed him and he now takes personally the words “Here am I, send me” from the hymn “Hark! the Voice of Jesus Crying.” Julie, now a third-year student at Concordia University in Seward, Nebraska, followed up with a mission trip to Hong Kong and is now considering a career as a missionary.

“I think we need to be a church in mission,” Len says as he explains the purpose of the mission fest on his family’s property. The natural setting of farm fields, open pasture and woods, with a cool breeze stirring oak leaves and raising goosebumps on Sunday morning, connected worshipers to the message delivered by the Rev. Dr. Robert Holst, retired president of Concordia University, St. Paul, and a former missionary to Papua, New Guinea.

The Rev. Dr. Robert Holst delivered a message on missions and afterward answered questions about his missionary service in New Guinea. Len Marquardt says the congregation has never had trouble finding a guest pastor as they savor participating in an “old-time mission festival out in the woods.”

As Rev. Holst spoke of his experiences in his sermon, “Global Missions: International Love,” worshipers, sitting among the trees, could easily imagine the primitive ways of the New Guinea people, their belief in spirits, their sacrifice of pigs, their mistrust and misunderstandings and lack of knowledge about God and the challenges the pastor faced in telling them about Christ.

Foreign missions seemed as close as a thought away for attendees like Jeanette Schoenfeld of Wilton Church who enjoys the mission fest because, she says, “It’s like they do in Africa,” worshiping outdoors.

Baby Jaci sits with her dad, Mike, and brother, Bales, during the worship service.

Len Marquardt and others, including his sister, Sally Hodge, appreciate, too, the traditions they are passing from family to family through generations of mission festivals. As Sally samples a vinegary, potato-green bean dish prepared for the mission fest potluck, she glances back to kids racing up the wooded hillside. “I remember tromping up the hills, tromping up the trails, building wood forts…talk about history and family and pleasure in knowing each other…” Sally says as she glances across the table at friend and fellow parishioner Davin Quiram.

All ages, and several generations of families, attended the mission fest on Sunday.

Sally Hodge sings in the choir and usually plays in the band. But this year she didn’t make the practices so was unable to join the Freedom Band. She lives just up the hill from Marquardt’s Grove and grew up on the other side of “just up the hill.”

Davin, like Sally a life-long member of Freedom, concurs as the two reminisce and remember the rare treat of soda pop from the mission fest pop and candy stand, which Davin will later man. The friends don’t recall specific mission speakers or messages from their childhood days, only those racing through the woods and gulping pop memories.

Davin, though, is quick to rattle off the areas of ministry covered by mission speakers in the past 10 years: American Indians, Hispanic, college, Japanese and such.

An elderly man turns to a hymn in the old pocket-size songbook that’s been used for decades.

While guest speakers change from year to year, the music remains constant with worshipers singing hymns from the pocket-size Mission Hymns Suitable for Mission Festivals and Similar Gatherings (out of print for 80 years).

Likewise, the Freedom Band, the church band comprised of Freedom members and others from the area and in existence for an estimated 80 years, uses the same familiar music books such as The Church Band Book—Choral Melodies of the Lutheran church for Military Band by A. Grimm, published in 1919 by Antigo Publishing Co., and a handwritten book of music transposed from a hymnal for the band.

The Freedom Band and some of its handwritten music.

The Freedom Band has always played at the mission fest and other area mission events in years gone by. At any time, 5 – 7 members of Sally’s family, the Marquardts, may be playing in the band—all on the trumpet but for one on the sax.

Gemma Lin returned to the mission fest, one year after her baptism there in 2011.

Part of mission fest also includes the occasional outdoor baptism. Sally’s father, Alfred, born in 1911, was baptized at the Freedom Mission Festival. Last year, a century later, two-month-old Gemma Lin of Mankato was baptized in Marquardt’s Grove and her great uncle was baptized the night before at Freedom Church. Aleta Lin, Gemma’s mom, treasures her daughter’s unique baptism and the story of that baptism which will always be a part of family history. She hopes Gemma will, through the years, continue to attend mission fest, a life-long tradition for Aleta, a life-long member of Freedom Church.

A bible lies on the floor of the stage where the band played and the preachers preached.

For those outside of Freedom, memories of past mission fests also come quickly. Such festivals were once a staple among rural congregations as a time to worship God in the outdoors, to socialize afterward at a potluck dinner and even meet future spouses.

Worshipers line up for a potluck dinner after the worship service.

Guest pastor Holst opened his message by reminiscing about the mission fests of his youth, recalling the washtubs full of soda pop—root beer, 7-UP and Orange Crush—set out by the youth group. He also remembered the ball games between fathers and children.

On Sunday there were no ball games or kids racing for a rare treat of pop. But plenty of kids—from babies to teens—settled onto temporary wood plank benches and lawn chairs or upon blankets or in car seats on the same ground in Marquardt’s Grove that has, for generations, served as an outdoor house of worship on one Sunday in August.

The vintage mini songbook lying on planks and the mission site in the background.

FYI: Check back for an additional post featuring mission fest photos and for a separate photo essay of Freedom Church.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Memories shared, memories made at a rural Minnesota family reunion July 31, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:43 AM
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Old-fashioned games like a gunny sack race, a three-legged race, and running with eggs on a spoon have been popular activities at recent Kletscher family reunions.

MY COUSIN LYNN doesn’t realize it, I’m sure. But when she repeated to me several times at this past weekend’s Kletscher family reunion that we need to keep this going, that not all families are like ours, gathering every year, remaining connected, sharing memories of the past, I knew that she was absolutely right.

The reunion originated many, many years ago as an annual summer picnic for descendants of Rudolph and Mathilda Kletscher, my great grandparents. As their son Henry’s family grew, a reunion for the family of Henry and Ida, my grandparents, was established.

In my 55 years of life, I bet I’ve missed only a handful of Kletscher reunions. It’s that important to me to attend this yearly gathering  in my hometown of Vesta. These aunts and uncles and cousins (and my grandparents, long ago deceased) were very much a part of my life when I was growing up as we all lived in close proximity to one another.

Saturday evening, circled around a campfire in the Vesta City Park, we shared memories of the many, many times our family celebrated birthdays and anniversaries. While the uncles clustered around card tables to swig beer and play cards so many decades ago and the aunts visited, we cousins raced in the dark shadows of farm yards in raucous games of “Starlight, Moonlight.” And then, when the wooden crate of pop bottles was pulled out, we swarmed to grab the rare treat of bubbly beverages.

Such were our memories (some best kept within the family) shared as darkness settled upon the prairie. Campfire flames flared and sparked while conversation ebbed and flowed as only it can in the comfortable familiarity of family.

Despite the feelings of closeness evoked at a reunion, the reality is that we are connected now primarily by memories and blood, not by the intertwining of our lives today. For the most part, we’ve moved away from the prairie and see each other only at the reunion or at the funerals of family members.

Several years ago, my sister Lanae and I decided we needed to infuse new energy into the reunion if we were to keep the next generation interested in remaining connected. That meant offering activities which would create memories. And so we, and other family members, have planned games. This year was no exception.

The cupcake walk, a popular activity two years ago, was brought back.

Elle, one happy little girl with a cupcake. She’s also an excellent hula hooper.

Already we can see our hard work and efforts effecting a change. The younger generation wants to come to the reunion now as opposed to “having” to tag along with mom and dad and being bored to death because “there’s nothing to do.”

I need only see the excitement in the faces of my cousins’ kids and grandkids’ and the smiles on my cousins’ faces to realize we’re on to something with offering organized activities. These descendants of Henry and Ida Kletscher are bonding and building memories.

It didn’t take much persuading to get the young adults participating in the Tacky Tourist Relay, helping each other slip into Hawaiian garb and more during our Hawaiian Luau themed reunion.

Perhaps 15 – 20 years from now they will circle around a campfire in the Vesta park remembering those gunny sack races or the time they hula hooped or Audrey insisting they join in the Tacky Tourist Relay Race.

Teams compete in the Tacky Tourist Relay.

I hope they will smile at the memories and realize how very blessed they are to be part of a family that has loved one another for generations.

Even my generation (OK, they’re a wee bit younger than me) formed a Tacky Tourist Relay team.

My sister Lanae and cousin Kirt assist each other in the hula hoop competition. I’m pretty certain they did not win.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Darwin and Alma once owned a 1957 Chevy Bel Air July 27, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:18 AM
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A 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air, parked along Central Avenue in downtown Faribault during the July 20 Faribault Car Cruise Night.

DARWIN LINGERS, gripping the handles of his wife’s stationary wheelchair as he admires the 1957 India Ivory and Matador Red Chevrolet Bel Air.

Alma seems equally mesmerized, transported back in time to the days of early motherhood and mobility—of youthful legs and a Chevy that hauled her family from farm to town and beyond and back home again.

When the family grew too large, the couple ditched the Bel Air and upgraded to a roomier station wagon.

Admiring the popular 1957 Chevy Bel Air in downtown Faribault.

But on this Friday evening so many decades later with the kids grown, one deceased, the aging farmer and his wife lock their eyes on the Bel Air waxed to a glossy shine. They remember the days of kids piling into the backseat of the 57 Chevy.

Darwin wishes out loud for that Chevy, just like the one parked on a Faribault city street on a late summer evening. Alma, hands clasped in her lap, nods ever so slightly in silent agreement.

I placed my camera on the sidewalk and angled it up to capture this rear view shot of the 57 Bel Air. And, yes, the date on the license plate says 1956. My husband insisted the car is a 57 and I checked numerous sources to verify the year.

I wonder, as I wander away, how many other such memories are sparked by the old cars and trucks parked along Central Avenue during Faribault Car Cruise Night.

As treasured as those vintage vehicles are for their monetary worth, it is the memories which hold the most value. Just ask Darwin and Alma.

Just another shot of the 57 Bel Air because it was so photogenic and I simply fell in love with this Chevy.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling