My cousin Jill Bode left this message at the memorial for Alex Pretti in south Minneapolis. (Photo credit: Jill Bode)
I HAVE EXTENDED FAMILY and friends living in south Minneapolis where ICE agents shot and killed two American citizens on the streets recently. First Renee Good and now Alex Pretti, both 37 years old.
My family has kept me updated on their participation in protests, their ICE sightings, their visits to memorials. I appreciate their first-person observations. And their activism.
A touching message from Felix, a former patient of Alex Pretti, an ICU nurse. (Photo credit: Jill Bode)
All images in this blog post were taken by my cousin Jill Bode at the memorial for Alex Pretti, an ICU nurse at the Minneapolis VA Medical Center. Veterans from all over Minnesota seek care at the VA. That includes my next door neighbor and my dad many years ago.
A view of the street by the Alex Pretti memorial where people continue to gather. (Photo credit: Jill Bode)
As hard as this whole situation is on me because I’m a Minnesotan and ICE is also in my community, it’s certainly much harder on my loved ones living in the epicenter of this massive, out-of-control enforcement effort by agents of the federal government. Jill and her husband, Mark, live about a mile from the place where Alex was shot and killed on Saturday morning. The granddaughter of a dear friend of mine was a neighbor to Alex and she’s taking it hard. We all are. My heart goes out to family and friends of Alex and Renee.
President Donald Trump promised “a day of reckoning and retribution” in Minnesota. I’m sharing that quote to remind everyone of his politically-motivated, threatening words, not to give him more voice.
Among the messages left at the memorial is one from a Louisiana veteran, top center. The pink building in the background is Glam Doll Donuts, directly across the street from where Alex was killed. (Photo credit: Jill Bode)
He underestimated Minnesotans—how tough and strong and determined we are, how we care for one another and also know right from wrong. We have a moral compass.
Take time to look closely at the messages left at the memorial. (Photo credit: Jill Bode)
To everyone across the country and world who has Minnesota’s back, who is supporting us via words and actions, thank you. I am grateful.
I join others for a candlelight vigil in downtown Faribault on Saturday evening. (Photo by and courtesy of Chloe Kucera, Faribault Daily News)
WE MARCHED IN SOLIDARITY, in community, in collective grief Saturday evening through downtown Faribault. No signs. Only candles, flames flickering, lights shining in subzero temps as vapor billowed from our faces.
An estimated 100 of us walked eight blocks in reverent silence, only the sound of boots crunching on snow and the occasional passing vehicle breaking the quiet.
Bundled up against the frigid cold, we left our warm homes to gather and honor 37-year-old Alex Pretti, an ICU nurse shot to death Saturday morning by ICE agents on the streets of south Minneapolis, less than an hour’s drive north on Interstate 35. It is the second fatal shooting of a Minneapolis resident, a Minnesotan and an American citizen by federal agents in recent weeks.
Faribault resident Martha Brown hastily organized the candlelight vigil via social media, calling for people to walk in silence on our city streets “to mourn together and peacefully pray for the (federal) occupation to end.” I knew I needed to be there, to join Martha and others who felt overwhelmed, yet determined to raise their voices via silence.
FOR OURSELVES & OUR NEIGHBORS
We did this not only for ourselves individually and collectively, but also for the Hispanics, Latinos and Somalis who call Faribault home and who have been targeted by ICE. Our neighbors are living in fear, sheltering in their homes as ICE continues to threaten, take and traumatize right here in my community and across the state.
As the march began in the parking lot outside Buckham Memorial Library, a Hispanic family waited along the curb. I motioned for them to join us and they did as the father filmed the walk for those whom he said could not be there. Those who cannot leave their homes for fear of ICE.
His daughter, about 8 years old, walked ahead of me, her bare hands clutching a slender battery-lit candle someone had given her. I felt so proud of this little girl while simultaneously thinking, she should not have to be here doing this. What a strong, brave family.
REFLECTING IN SILENCE
Walking in silence gave me time to reflect, process my emotions and observe. I passed Mexican and Somali-owned shops, restaurants and a bakery, all told about a dozen in our core downtown business district. I considered how they contribute to our economy, our tax base, our diversity, filling buildings that may otherwise stand vacant.
But I passed, too, a large GUNS sign on the pawnshop, the significance of that singular word not lost on me in the context of the day’s shooting.
Four blocks into the march, I felt strengthened by simply being among caring people of all ages united in purpose and grief. That young girl and her family. A woman in a wheelchair who was wheeled across snowy curb cuts. All of us there, connected by this moment in time in Minnesota.
GRATITUDE FOR COMMUNITY SUPPORT
When the half hour vigil walk ended back in the library parking lot, we stood in a moment of silence, then prayer before the Hispanic man stepped up and thanked us for coming, explaining how much it meant to him to see and feel our support.
Back home I got a text from family in south Minneapolis to “Shine a Light for Minnesota” by placing a lit candle outside at 7 pm. And so Randy set the tea light candles we had just carried through downtown Faribault on our front steps, flames flickering for our communities, for Alex, with the flaming message of ICE OUT NOW.
BREAKING: Federal agents shot and killed a man in south Minneapolis this morning, according to Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara. I watched a video of the shooting on the Minneapolis Star Tribune live updates. This is an unfolding story. This marks the third shooting (the second fatal) in Minneapolis by federal agents since Metro Surge began.
This shows a portion of the people protesting in downtown Minneapolis on Friday afternoon. (Photo provided by a family member)
Here’s the post I was working on when I learned about today’s shooting:
MINNESOTANS REMAIN STRONG and undeterred in their opposition to ongoing ICE enforcement in our state. Nowhere was that strength of resistance more publicly visible than Friday afternoon in downtown Minneapolis.
A close-up of the protesters in Minneapolis on Friday afternoon.(Photo by and courtesy of Jill Bode)
Thousands (some estimates are 50,000) bundled up and marched in a double digit subzero wind chill to protest ICE actions, gathering afterwards for a rally inside Target Center. Those protesters included my cousins who live in south Minneapolis. They want ICE out of their neighborhoods, their city, our state. So do I.
I should note that not every Minnesotan opposes ICE’s massive enforcement efforts here. I don’t understand how anyone can be OK with the often aggressive, violent and unconstitutional ways in which these federal agents are operating in Minnesota. This has gone well beyond their originally-stated goal of gathering and deporting “the worst of the worst,” violent criminals who are here illegally.
I should also note that ICE’s reach stretches well beyond the Twin Cities metro. Agents are detaining people in my community of Faribault. Likewise in Rochester (home to the world-renowned Mayo Clinic), Mankato, St. Cloud, Northfield, even small towns like St. James and many more places in between.
Momentum against ICE is growing as the impact on people is being felt in multiple ways. Healthcare workers say patients are afraid to seek care and that their physical and mental health are being affected. Plus, doctors and nurses are under tremendous stress, especially when ICE agents enter clinics and hospitals.
ICE has stopped off-duty law enforcement officers of color in instances of reported racial profiling.
Students are walking out of classes, concerned about their classmates, some of whom have been taken by ICE. Others are not coming to school. Schools are going to virtual learning.
Labor unions have publicly stood up against ICE.
At the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, local clergy and clergy from across the country gathered outside terminal one on Friday to protest deportation flights in and out of the airport and ICE’s presence in Minnesota.
Educators are speaking out about the fear they are seeing in their students, about the students who are not coming to school, about the students who have been taken by ICE.
And then there’s the group of “Women with Walkers” who gathered in the chapel of a senior living community in St. Paul Friday afternoon to pray and protest in their own quiet way.
I can’t write any more. Not in this moment. I am too angry.
This photo reflects how I am feeling today. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
ALL OF THIS is beyond belief, yet it isn’t.
I texted that to a friend today. “This” refers to the fatal shooting of Renee Good by an ICE agent in south Minneapolis on Wednesday morning. The governor of Minnesota, the mayor of Minneapolis, the police chief of Minneapolis all publicly predicted several weeks ago that something like “this” could happen during ICE’s ramped up immigration enforcement here.
I’m not surprised either. Tensions have been building, not only in Minnesota but across the country, as ICE swarms cities and communities. ICE tactics seem unnecessarily aggressive and sometimes violent. I see zero humanity. Zero compassion. Zero care. I wonder about the vetting, the training, the actions, the accountability of these ICE agents.
Now in the aftermath of Renee’s killing, the FBI, which originally agreed to work with the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension on investigating the fatal shooting, has backtracked. The FBI will be the sole investigator and will not provide any investigative information to the BCA. It is impossible for me to trust the process since, shortly after the shooting, Renee Good was tagged “a domestic terrorist” by the feds. Judgment was already made.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Nothing I’ve read or heard indicates to me that Renee was anything but a wife, mom, writer and poet. Recently-moved to Minneapolis, the 37-year-old was young enough to be my daughter. She had a full life ahead of her.
Because I am also a wife, mom, writer and poet, I relate personally and professionally to Renee. I am grieving the senseless loss of not only a human being, but of another creative. In 2020, Renee won an Academy of American Poets Prize for her poem, “On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs.” That’s quite an accomplishment for a then-undergrad at Old Dominion University. She graduated with an English degree in 2020. Today I think of all the poems this poet will never write, all the hugs and kisses this mom will never give to her three children.
A partial quote by Georgia Congressman and civil rights activist John Lewis, photographed several years agoin Dundas, Minnesota, and fitting for today. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
“…May Renee’s life be a reminder of what unites us: freedom, love, and peace. My hope is for compassion, healing, and reflection at a time that is becoming one of the darkest and most uncertain periods in our nation’s history.”
I think, as a creative, that Renee would have appreciated those well-crafted words. I do. In continuing to process this tragedy, I feel uplifted by those of you who have encouraged not only me, but Minnesotans as a whole. Your solidarity, your supportive actions, your caring words all matter while we work through this collective trauma. Thank you.
NOTE: As I was writing this post Wednesday morning, unbeknownst to me, tragedy was unfolding 40 miles away in south Minneapolis. An ICE agent shot and killed 37-year-old Renee Nicole Good, a Minneapolis resident. That is a fact. She was, according to a Minnesota state senator, a legal observer of federal actions. I decided to publish this post as written before learning of Renee’s death. No rewriting or editing. Right now my emotions are raw. I am outraged. I offer no apologies for my feelings.
This sign along I-90 welcomes travelers to Minnesota along the Mississippi River by La Crosse, Wisconsin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
WITH THE FEDERAL FOCUS on uncovering fraud and on heavy immigration enforcement in Minnesota right now, I’m feeling defensive. I understand that fraud is unacceptable. I, too, have concerns about the seemingly high amount of fraud in my home state. But I will say this. I feel like Minnesota is being unfairly and aggressively targeted on both the fraud and immigration enforcement fronts.
This seems more a personal vendetta by the President against our state than anything. He’s targeted our governor and our Somali community. And I’m not OK with that. Not the actions, not the rhetoric.
I photographed this sign in the window of a downtown Faribault business many years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THE GOODNESS OF MINNESOTANS
But rather than turn this into a political rant, I want to tell you this: We in Minnesota are, for the most part, good, kind, decent people. The term “Minnesota Nice” is a moniker tagged to those of us who call this place home. It fits. We may live in a cold and snowy state, but we are not cold.
Our generosity shines in strong volunteerism, in supporting others. It also shines in an abundance of nonprofits that assist those in need. For example, one organization is currently heading up a workforce and emergency housing development project in Faribault. Within blocks of my home, I see those buildings rising. An all-volunteer local bookshop sells used books donated by community members. Profits go to the Rice County Area United Way. Local churches house food shelves. Local shelters and centers help those dealing with domestic abuse and violence and substance abuse. The list goes on and on of organizations dedicated to helping those in need.
On a personal level, I know a friend who has taken a man experiencing homelessness out to eat several times. Another friend gave her mittens to an unsheltered man. Two others paid for a bus ticket to Iowa for an individual without a home, per his request to return there. Another is assisting our immigrants as a trained Constitutional observer. These are small acts of kindness and care that go unnoticed, yet are happening throughout my community.
Photographed in my local library in 2024. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
AND THEN COMES ICE
As all of these good things are occurring in Minnesota, so is the negative. And right now that is massive ICE enforcement efforts, including in Faribault with its large Somali and Latino populations. Imagine if you were of either ethnicity, how fearful you would feel. You could be stopped simply because of your skin color, your dress, your spoken language. Grab, detain and ask questions later seems to be the mode of operation for ICE.
Clearly I have sidetracked here. But I offer no apologies for feeling as I do about aggressive ICE actions with agents wrongfully detaining people. I take issue also with elected officials who fail to do anything about this, who fail to protect Constitutional rights, who think this is alright.
The type of ice we like here in Minnesota is the frozen surface of a lake where we angle for fish in the winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
ICE OUT
In closing, I want to reiterate that I love Minnesota (except when winter gets too long). This is a wonderful place to live with its diverse geography, its natural beauty, its diverse residents, its strong arts community, its caring people…
I appreciate the many immigrants who have chosen to call Minnesota home. They make our communities stronger and better in endless ways. Just like my German ancestors who sailed across the Atlantic to America, eventually settling in Minnesota. I hope our newest residents in “The Land of 10,000 Lakes” find a welcoming place to establish roots, to grow a life.
Eventually they may even understand our Minnesota excitement over ice out after a long, cold winter.
I photographed this creative back-to-school front window display at Owatonna Shoes Monday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
HOW WELL I REMEMBER the first day of classes at the start of a new school year. Decades ago as a student. Then as a parent of three. And now as a grandparent.
As a student, I felt excited. Nervous. Happy. I remember the sharp tips of new Crayola crayons. The discomfort of new shoes. Piles of multi-colored notebooks awaiting words.
As a mom, I remember worrying if my kids would catch the right bus, make friends, like their teachers.
But none of that matches the concerns I feel today as the grandmother of a first grader and a fourth grader who begin classes Tuesday morning in a community in the south metro. The deadly shooting of two students and injury of 21 others (including three octogenarian worshipers) during a morning back-to-school Mass last week at Annunciation Catholic Church in south Minneapolis weighs heavy on all of us.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Children, teachers and staff should feel and be safe in school. Parents should never have to wonder if their children will come home. Grandparents shouldn’t have to worry how their children, their grandchildren, are going to navigate all of this.
But school violence is all too real. And it shouldn’t be. I invite you to read a blog post by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson (click here), a mother, grandmother, writer, photographer, poet and activist. She writes with passion and clarity about the Annunciation shooting and gun violence, including steps we can take to change things. Kathleen’s words are powerful and move us to a place of action with the strong word, “Demand.”
As someone who grew up in Minneapolis, Kathleen writes from the heart. She is grieving. Angry. Frustrated. Just like me. Just like so many of us in Minnesota and beyond.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
To the politicians out there who put guns before kids and who vote against funding for mental health programs, pause for a moment and assess your priorities. Walk in the shoes of kids, parents, grandparents, teachers. And then think of Fletcher Merkel, 8, and Harper Moyski, 10, shot to death in a Minneapolis church during the first week of classes at Annunciation Catholic School.
An inspirational word in an art installation honoring Barb Larson, shot and killed in 2016 inside her workplace, the Faribault Area Chamber of Commerce & Tourism. Used here for illustration only. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
IN MY BIBLE, I highlight verses that resonate with me, that inspire, that uplift and offer hope. Those include Jeremiah 29:11. It reads: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. In faith communities, this specific scripture is often directed to youth, who are our future.
On Wednesday morning those words written by the prophet Jeremiah were shared by Matt DeBoer, principal of Annunciation Catholic School in south Minneapolis, following a mass shooting at the adjacent church. The shooter fired from outside through stained glass windows into the church, killing two students and wounding 18 others, including three parishioners in their eighties. All were attending a back-to-school morning Mass.
The churning Straight River, visually reflective of what we’re feeling now in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
“NEVER AGAIN”
This act of gun violence is nothing short of horrific. No one can deny that. Fletcher, 8, and Harper, 10, are dead. Seven others were critically injured, taken to a level 1 trauma center. All are expected to survive. The level of pain and grief and anger, yes, anger, we are feeling collectively in Minnesota right now is palpable.
In all the media coverage I’ve watched and read, I keep circling back to Principal DeBoer and his message at a late Wednesday morning press conference hours after the shooting. He shared the school’s Jeremiah 29 based theme for 2025-2026 of “a future filled with hope.” Hope happens to be one of my favorite words, but not one I personally relate to a mass shooting. Yet on Wednesday morning, the principal called for all of us to look to the future with hope, because we can’t change the past. I listened. I heard. I heard him say, “Never again.” I heard DeBoer ask us to commit those two words to our speech pattern. “Never again.”
And I heard, too, his call for action as he referenced this African proverb: When you pray, move your feet.
As the day progressed into evening vigils, I continued to watch television coverage. Clergy led a prayer service at the Academy of Holy Angels, a nearby private Catholic high school that Annunciation students often attend beginning in ninth grade. In a message also themed to hope, Archbishop Bernard Hebda mentioned the broad support received from those of all faiths—Protestants, Jews, Muslims… And from Pope Leo XIV. I would expect nothing less. We are all hurting.
Another vigil followed at Lynnhurst Park. As I watched television coverage begin, I focused on the diverse crowd. A young girl seated on the ground clutching a teddy bear. A priest in a wheelchair. Attendees sheltering flickering candles with their hands. People in bright orange t-shirts emblazoned with “Protect Minnesota.” Photographers working. A woman in a black tee with the simple word, “Enough,” and a slash drawn through a circled gun. Instrumental music played—”Bridge Over Troubled Water”—setting an introspective mood.
“Doing something” must be about our kids. Photo used for illustration only. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrightedfile photo)
“WE NEED TO…”
And then the line up of speakers stepped up, addressing the crowd. The mood at this vigil was decidedly different. This gathering focused on a call to action in oftentimes fiery and emotional speeches by politicians and local leaders calling for stronger gun laws. In all the thoughts shared, Minnesota Lieutenant Governor Peggy Flanagan’s message rose to the top for me. While she spoke the usual “You are not alone” and “Enough is enough,” here’s the one soundbite that sticks with me: “We need to love our babies and our children more than our guns.” That bears repeating. “We need to love our babies and our children more than our guns.”
On this, the morning after the murder of two children and wounding of 17 others at Annunciation Catholic Church less than an hour from my Faribault home, I reflect on Flanagan’s words. And I think of my own two elementary-aged grandchildren starting the new school year on Tuesday. I want them to feel, to be, safe. I want this gun violence to end. As the mayor of Minneapolis said, his is “a city united in grief,” which must now become “a city united in action.”
I hold hope that perhaps this time something will change. I understand that gun violence is complicated, that it involves addressing the root causes of such violence. Yet, if not for the guns—three used in the Minneapolis shooting—two children would still be alive.
#
This story has been updated to include the first names of the two children killed in the shooting. Their names were released late Thursday afternoon. The number of injured has also been updated to 18.
I’ve photographed many stained glass windows in churches. I looked through my archives and found this image of a window at Mother of Good Counsel Votive Chapel, LaCrosse, Wisconsin and it struck me as fitting for this post. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2015)
I HAD MY MORNING PLANNED. Wash sheets and towels and hang them on the line. Pay bills. Write a blog post. I finished the laundry. But then all activity stopped and my attention focused to breaking news—a mass shooting in south Minneapolis.
For hours I’ve watched media coverage of events unfolding at Annunciation Catholic Church and School in south Minneapolis. Early today two school children were shot and killed during morning Mass. Seventeen others were injured, among them two adults. Four required surgery. Seven were in critical condition at Hennepin County Medical Center, a level one trauma center. Several went to other hospitals.
My heart breaks for the families, friends and classmates of the eight and 10-year-olds who were killed. My heart breaks for all who were part of and witness to this violence. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey and Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara, who spoke at a press conference, echoed the same. Their pain and anguish were evident in their words, their voices breaking with emotion.
I was especially touched by Mayor Frey’s message that we must go beyond simply saying “thoughts and prayers” because, as he stated, these kids were literally in church praying. He’s right. I believe in prayer. But I also believe that caring and compassionate action must accompany prayer. Frey called upon all of us to wrap our arms around the affected families, to love and support them. These are not only Minneapolis families affected, but American families, he said, adding that these shootings happen far too often.
According to officials, the gunman, dressed in black and armed with a rifle, shotgun and pistol, fired from the outside through church stained glass windows, hitting victims sitting in the pews. The man, in his early 20s and with no known criminal record, is dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, according to the police chief.
Both the mayor and police chief used the word “evil” when describing this morning’s shooting. They also used words like “deliberate act of violence,” “unspeakable act,” and “unthinkable tragedy.” We’ve heard those words way too often following mass shootings that have occurred way too often. Once is too often.
My day goes on, not as I planned, but tinged now with deep sadness. I can’t shake the images of children emerging from Annunciation School with their parents, hands clasped, faces showing the deep pain they are feeling. They are forever changed.
I RUSHED HOME from the grocery store late Saturday morning to watch the live broadcast of the funerals of Melissa and Mark Hortman, shot to death in their Minnesota home two weeks ago during an apparent politically-motivated assassination. Melissa was Minnesota’s Speaker of the House, a respected politician, but, more importantly, a beloved wife, mother, daughter, friend, neighbor and more. Much more.
The private service at the Basilica of Saint Mary in Minneapolis revealed the professional and personal sides of the Hortmans with stories shared during eulogies after the Catholic Mass. Laughter rang through the massive church, filling the spaces between grief.
I jotted down 3 ½ pages of notes, not only to share information with you, but also because I focus better, retain more, by doing that. It’s also the reporter in me emerging.
HERE FOR EACH OTHER IN OUR GRIEF
So what stood out? A lot.
First, it was a recognition that we are all grieving. Individually. Collectively, as a state. “Nothing conveys love and support more than presence,” presiding pastor, Father Daniel Griffith, told those packing the pews. That included former President Joe Biden and former Vice President Kamala Harris, sitting in the front row next to Minnesota Governor Tim Walz and Gwen Walz. The Hortmans’ adult children, Colin and Sophie, and other family sat just across the aisle.
LIGHT & HOPE IN DARKNESS
The remarkable strength of Colin and Sophie continues to stand out. Rev. Griffith noted the courage and grace of the two, saying they are “a source of light and hope in the darkness.” In a message earlier released to the public, the siblings called for each of us to make our communities better for someone else. Plant a tree. Pet a dog. Stand up for justice and peace. And more.
“GROUND ZERO” FOR CHANGE
Father Griffith, with permission of the Hortman family, spoke candidly. The nation, he said, is “in need of deep healing.” He referred to Minnesota as a past “ground zero” for racial injustice in the 2020 killing of George Floyd and now for political violence and extremism in the murders of the Hortmans and the shootings of Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, on the same morning. The Hoffmans are recovering, John still hospitalized. Minnesota, Griffith said, can now be the “ground zero” for restoration, justice and healing. If we work together. And strongly decry injustice and violence.
“Peace & Love,” an acrylic painting by Angelina Dornquast exhibited at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)
LET THERE BE PEACE
Words like hope, goodness and kindness were repeated often during the lengthy service. Likewise justice and peace. The gospel reading of The Beatitudes from Matthew 5 seemed especially fitting: Blessed are those who mourn…blessed are the merciful…blessed are the peacemakers…
Peace. Father Griffith shared that Melissa’s mother found a worn copy of the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi in her daughter’s purse. I expect it’s familiar to most of you. Lord make me an instrument of your peace… Colin later read that prayer, a moment I found profoundly moving. In his grief, he had the composure to share those powerful words of where there is hatred, let me sow love… I can only imagine how proud his parents would have been.
DOING GOOD
Governor Walz said Melissa’s goal in life was “to get as much good done for as many people as possible.” He pointed to her legislative efforts that resulted in fewer kids living in poverty, safe and secure housing for Minnesotans and more trees. She loved trees and gardening. Earlier, the priest referenced much the same, calling service and community the Hortmans’ guiding lights.
LAUGHTER IN STORIES
But it was close family friend and former co-worker (at the Legal Aid Society of Minneapolis), Robin Ann Williams, who brought laughter to the Basilica with her personal stories. She shared about a call from Melissa to help choose a paint color for her kitchen. When Williams arrived, she found all the paint samples were shades of beige. The kitchen is still beige. The kitchen centered gatherings, like the “Gourmet Supper Club” dinners with law school friends. Mark Hortman’s sour dough bread was better than his home-brewed beer, she said. Laughter erupted often, especially when she held up a souvenir photo placard of vice presidential candidate, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, which Melissa brought home for her friend from the national DFL convention.
Photographed in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo August 2019)
JOY & MORE ARE POSSIBLE
On this Saturday, the funeral was not about politics, though. It was about coming together to celebrate the Hortmans, to honor their memories, to reflect on their public and private lives, to collectively grieve. The day prior, some 7,500 people converged on the Minnesota State Capitol to pay their respects as the couple and their dog, Gilbert, lay in state.
“We are buried in sorrow right now,” family friend Williams said, adding that joy will come.
I have to believe it will, if we begin to follow the advice of the Hortman children, the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, the teachings of The Beatitudes and the directive of Father Griffith to work together for restoration, justice and healing.
My old glasses atop info about bilateral strabismus eye surgery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)
“SIGNIFICANT REGRESSION OF SURGICAL EFFECT.“ Those are words you don’t want to read/hear following any surgery. But, three months out from surgery to realign my eyes, that’s where I’m at with my vision.
During my second post-op check last week with my neuro ophthalmologist, Dr. Collin McClleland, I learned that my eyes apparently have a mind of their own. They are back to not working together. This came as no surprise. I’ve been experiencing ongoing double vision, although less than before my January 22 surgery.
What I didn’t expect was the word “significant.” I knew the possibility existed that my eyes would return to misalignment; I did my homework in advance of bilateral strabismus eye surgery. But who thinks they are going to be in the minority of that final surgical outcome? Not me.
Several days after my January surgery, I was smiling, happy to have surgery behind me, happy with flowers from my family. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo by Randy Helbling, January 2024)
Immediately after surgery, my eyes were in near perfect alignment. I was happy. My surgeon was happy. But then, as my eye muscles healed and my brain and eyes adjusted, the shift began.
Extensive testing during my recent appointment showed “significant regression.” I won’t confuse you with numbers and medical terminology. Suffice to say I’m frustrated and disappointed as is my surgeon. But, Dr. McClelland said, he wouldn’t have done anything differently during surgery. I needed it, and the surgery did improve alignment. I agree. Why my eyes reverted mostly back to their misaligned positions is unknown. I asked. There’s no answer.
I explained to my doctor that it takes effort sometimes to see just one, and not two. That exhausts me. And if I’m doing anything that requires a lot of visual back-and-forth, like shopping, my eyes feel like they’ve done calisthenics. They hurt. Whenever I have lots of sensory input or am doing multiple things, my double vision worsens. I was experiencing all of this before surgery, too.
In the recovery room after surgery on both eyes in January. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo by Randy Helbling, January 2024)
What to do next was the question of the morning. My surgeon offered two choices: One, add more prisms to my glasses and hope that alleviates some of my double vision. Or try surgery again. I was mentally unprepared for this. But I quickly opted for more prisms. I am in no hurry to rush back into an operating room, even if the 1 ½-hour surgery was not horrible and I have full confidence in Dr. McClelland. Surgery is surgery.
So here I am, no line bifocal prism glasses ordered. The lenses will take about two weeks to make given the extensive work required. Then I’ll be without glasses while the lenses are placed in my frames. Then the test begins. Will the added prisms, divided between both lenses, help with my double vision? Time will tell. Prisms bend light before it travels to your eyes and the brain has to sort it all out and create a singular image, or something like that.
The issue, my ophthalmologist explained, is whether I can tolerate more prisms added to my prescription lenses. I could experience distortion, what he calls “the fish bowl effect.” The goal is “comfortable singular binocular vision.” If I can’t handle the added prisms (which are actually less than they should be, but within the hopefully tolerable range), then I will need to revisit surgery.
That’s where I’m at today. Waiting for those prism-heavy lenses. I’m trying to prepare myself for what I know will be several weeks of adjusting to my new prescription. And hoping this non-surgical approach works.
These buildings house outpatient clinics, including the M Health Fairview Eye Clinic, on the campus of the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
As disappointed and frustrated as I feel about the final surgical outcome, I remain grateful for the vision I do have, even if far from perfect. Sitting in the waiting room at M Health Fairview Eye Clinic in Minneapolis puts my situation in perspective. I have watched little kids there navigating with the aid of a white cane…
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Reflecting from Minnesota on the killing of Renee Good, wife, mom, writer & poet January 8, 2026
Tags: Academy of American Poets, commentary, death, fatal shooting, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Minneapolis, Minnesota, news, Old Dominion University, opinion, poet, poetry, Renee Nicole Good, trauma
ALL OF THIS is beyond belief, yet it isn’t.
I texted that to a friend today. “This” refers to the fatal shooting of Renee Good by an ICE agent in south Minneapolis on Wednesday morning. The governor of Minnesota, the mayor of Minneapolis, the police chief of Minneapolis all publicly predicted several weeks ago that something like “this” could happen during ICE’s ramped up immigration enforcement here.
I’m not surprised either. Tensions have been building, not only in Minnesota but across the country, as ICE swarms cities and communities. ICE tactics seem unnecessarily aggressive and sometimes violent. I see zero humanity. Zero compassion. Zero care. I wonder about the vetting, the training, the actions, the accountability of these ICE agents.
Now in the aftermath of Renee’s killing, the FBI, which originally agreed to work with the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension on investigating the fatal shooting, has backtracked. The FBI will be the sole investigator and will not provide any investigative information to the BCA. It is impossible for me to trust the process since, shortly after the shooting, Renee Good was tagged “a domestic terrorist” by the feds. Judgment was already made.
Nothing I’ve read or heard indicates to me that Renee was anything but a wife, mom, writer and poet. Recently-moved to Minneapolis, the 37-year-old was young enough to be my daughter. She had a full life ahead of her.
Because I am also a wife, mom, writer and poet, I relate personally and professionally to Renee. I am grieving the senseless loss of not only a human being, but of another creative. In 2020, Renee won an Academy of American Poets Prize for her poem, “On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs.” That’s quite an accomplishment for a then-undergrad at Old Dominion University. She graduated with an English degree in 2020. Today I think of all the poems this poet will never write, all the hugs and kisses this mom will never give to her three children.
I appreciate a three-paragraph statement released by Old Dominion President Brian O. Hemphill. It reads in part:
“…May Renee’s life be a reminder of what unites us: freedom, love, and peace. My hope is for compassion, healing, and reflection at a time that is becoming one of the darkest and most uncertain periods in our nation’s history.”
I think, as a creative, that Renee would have appreciated those well-crafted words. I do. In continuing to process this tragedy, I feel uplifted by those of you who have encouraged not only me, but Minnesotans as a whole. Your solidarity, your supportive actions, your caring words all matter while we work through this collective trauma. Thank you.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling