Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

When life comes unglued, a Minnesota family’s experience June 23, 2021

HE AROSE FROM HIS CHAIR, lost. I watched him stagger and collapse on Sarah’s chair, plunging his head into his big sister’s chest.

As that scene unfolds on page 297 of Unglued—A Bipolar Love Story by Minnesotan Jeffrey Zuckerman, I cried. I cried at the deep heartache adult siblings Joey and Sarah experience when learning of their mother Leah’s attempted suicide. I cried at the pain. I cried at the challenges Leah faces in living with bipolar disorder. I cried for those inside and outside my circle who have lost loved ones to suicide, who live with serious mental illnesses, who are brave beyond words.

Tears cleanse, releasing pain and emotions.

I feel grateful to freelance editor and writer Zuckerman for sharing his family’s story, which increases awareness, understanding, and, most importantly, offers hope.

HEART-WRENCHING HONESTY

Zuckerman writes about his wife’s “broken mind” with an honesty that is simultaneously heart-wrenching and beautiful. Although at times he literally runs away, his love for her endures and he never gives up. He never gives up through the manic episodes, the rage, the hurt, the personality changes, the exhaustion, the anhedonia (lack of feelings), the sleepless nights, the hospitalizations, the efforts to find the right medications that will help…

Through all of it, he learns. He begins to understand, to see bipolar disorder for what it is, a medical illness. He sees, too, the stigma, and he begins to open up. To neighbors. To friends. And also to those in a National Alliance on Mental Illness support group. He writes: It’s hard to explain just how listening to my story with grace and without judgment was exactly the help I needed.

THE 3 Cs

I listened to his story, taking notes as I read Unglued. Although I feel fairly informed about brain disorders like bipolar disorder, I find myself acquiring new knowledge every time I read personal stories like that of the Zuckerman family. This marks the first time I’ve read a book written from a spouse’s perspective. Even through the most difficult days, Jeff loves Leah and comes to realize that he didn’t cause her illness, nor can he control or cure it. He recognizes, too, that he must care for himself if he is to be of any help to his wife of 30-plus years.

SEPARATING THE INDIVIDUAL & THE ILLNESS

Theirs is a love story marked not only by loss and grief, but also by forgiveness, by strength and resilience. Zuckeman is able to see Leah, the individual, and not Leah the illness, first. From her, he learns to be more tolerant and less selfish.

Through his storytelling, this gifted Minneapolis writer personalizes bipolar in relatable and ordinary ways. Half-way through Unglued, he writes about stopping with Leah at Ben and Jerry’s for Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream before returning her to a psych ward. After 25 days of hospitalization, Leah is discharged and, writes Jeff, they begin gluing back together her life…and their long, fractured marriage. And that glue is love.

RESOURCES & HELP

FYI: If you or someone you love is considering suicide, get immediate professional help. Resources include the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255.

The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) also offers a helpline at 1-800-950-6264. Many resources are available through NAMI, including support groups for those dealing with mental health issues and their families.

Above all, care. Listen. Support. And continue to love.

AWARD-WINNING BOOK

Unglued was named a finalist for the 2020-2021 Minnesota Book Award, among other honors.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Old school journalism & lessons learned June 22, 2021

In journalism school and early in my journalism career, I typed stories on a manual typewriter similar to this. MN Prairie Roots file photo.

IN A WINDOWLESS ROOM of Armstrong Hall on the campus of Mankato State University, I pounded out a fictional obituary on a manual typewriter.

The year was 1976. And I was learning the basics of newspaper reporting. Lesson number one: Always spell a person’s name correctly. Never assume. Ask for the spelling. There is no reporting sin worse than misspelling a name. I remembered that during my first reporting job out of college when I interviewed Dayle. Not Dale.

I learned from two of the best—Robert O. Shipman and Gladys B. Olson. They were old school journalists, determined to teach Woodward and Bernstein-hyped students how to gather facts and report with truth, accuracy and integrity. They taught the basics—how to write a strong lede, how to infuse interest into feature stories, how to get the story right…

But beyond that, they cared. Deeply. They cared about the roles newspapers play in communities. To report hard news. To share human interest stories. To inform. To keep tabs on government and schools and other groups entrusted with public monies and policies. To share and express opinions on the editorial page, considered the heart of a community newspaper. To publish obituaries. And much more.

A section of a feature I wrote about Mike Max, now a sports anchor at WCCO TV. MN Prairie Roots file photo.

All these decades later, I remember those lessons learned from Shipman, Olson and others who taught mass communication classes at what is today known as Minnesota State University, Mankato. I graduated in March 1978 and shortly thereafter started working as a newspaper reporter at a small town weekly, The Gaylord Hub. My career would also take me to full-time reporting jobs in Sleepy Eye, Mankato and Owatonna, and to a short-term assignment in Northfield with freelance work also tossed in the mix.

Through the years, I’ve maintained my passion for writing and grown my passion for photography. Even while raising three children, with minimal time to write. Yet, I’ve had no desire to return to the long and odd hours of working for a newspaper at low pay with the stress and pressure of deadlines and a public that criticizes more than values the free press.

Much has changed since I typed a fictional obit in Armstrong Hall on a manual typewriter. For one, technology. Two: Newspapers charge to publish obits. I still struggle with that change. But I understand given the declines in ad revenue. Three: Attitudes. The easily flung accusation of “fake news” simply angers me as does constant criticism of responsible media. “Don’t kill the messenger,” I advise those who target the media for reporting “only bad news.”

A feature I wrote in 1979 republished in the June 4, 2020, issue of The Gaylord Hub. MN Prairie Roots file photo.

I wonder what Professors Shipman and Olson would teach students today. I expect they’d still focus on the basics. On accuracy and integrity and spelling names correctly.

While writing this post, I wanted to assure I spelled their names right, which led me to search online. It was then that I discovered some interesting facts about Olson, a petite spitfire of a woman. Shortly before she turned four, Gladys and her infant brother were orphaned as a result of the 1918-1919 flu pandemic. Their parents died within 24 hours of each other, among more than 8,000 North Dakotans who died of influenza in 1919. The siblings were raised by their paternal grandparents. I wish I’d known this when Olson taught me how to become a good, decent and fair newspaper reporter.

From the front page of the Faribault Daily News. MN Prairie Roots file photo 2020.

Today, as I read Olson’s 2016 obit, I understand her backstory, what shaped her strength and resilience and kindness. The list of her accomplishments beyond journalism professor emphasizes service to others. She lived to age 101. That she died only four years before the COVID-19 pandemic is not lost on me. I’m thankful she didn’t have to endure another pandemic. I’m also thankful that she, and Robert Shipman, taught me old school journalism style. To write with fairness, integrity and accuracy. And to value the role of newspapers in a democracy.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Insights from a pocket garden June 21, 2021

2nd Street Garden in downtown Faribault. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

WHEN YOU CONSIDER THE WORD pocket, what flashes into view? A side or back pocket in your jeans? A place to tuck your cellphone or keys? A slip of fabric stitched to the front of a shirt? How about a garden? Yes, a garden.

Downtown Faribault features a pocket garden, a mini garden sandwiched in an open space between buildings. I love the concept, the artsy and practical use of a spot that might otherwise exist as unused and unsightly.

In 2018, two sisters and two artists created the 2nd Street Garden next to DuFour’s Cleaners thanks to funding from Faribault Main Street. That downtown-focused group secured a $15,000 grant from the Preservation Alliance of Minnesota and the Bush Foundation for six creative placemaking art projects, including the pocket garden.

With financial support, sisters Dee Bjork and Beth Westerhouse (who has since died) and husband-wife team Ann Meillier and Dave Correll (Brushwork Signs) designed and created the garden. It incorporates metal flowers, real flowers and plants, a bench and floral art.

A bench offers a place to rest and ponder. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

The result is an inviting oasis that feels tranquil and welcoming. And unexpected.

Left behind by a recent visitor to inspire kindness. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

Recently, I revisited the garden and discovered a mini stuffed bear on the park’s bench. An attached tag invited visitors to take a photo and to use #LovePeopleBeKind. The bear, with red heart connected, fits the garden’s theme of Love One Another.

An important message tagged to the bear. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

It’s such a simple concept: Love One Another. But it’s not always easy to do. We say and do things that hurt others. We fail to listen. We blame and criticize and jump to conclusions. And with technology, it’s easier than ever to fire off words in the heat of the moment. Without thinking. Without considering. Without putting our fingers and mouths on pause.

The positive message painted onto a fence panel in the garden. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted and edited photo, August 2019.

I’d like each of us to step into a pocket garden. To sit on a real or imaginary bench, surrounded by natural and artistic beauty, and to contemplate. To think beyond ourselves. To think of ways we can grow more loving and caring. To consider that what we say, write and do matters. In either a positive way or a negative way. We can hurt people. Or we can choose to love one another. We can choose to show, and grace others with, kindness, love, care, empathy and compassion.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts & reflections on Juneteenth June 19, 2021

A chair placed before a Stephen Somerstein photo offers a spot to contemplate. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2015.

IT’S A MEMORABLE IMAGE of an empty chair placed before a photo in the exhibit, “Selma to Montgomery: Marching Along the Voting Rights Trail.” In 2015, I viewed the traveling exhibit that visually highlights the Civil Rights movement and the photography of Stephen Somerstein.

Now, six years later, the contemplative photo I framed and shot with my Canon EOS 20-D in the Flaten Art Museum at St. Olaf College connects to our new federal holiday, Juneteenth. June 19 commemorates the end of slavery—the date in 1865 when Union soldiers informed slaves in Galveston, Texas, that they were free. Two-plus years after President Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation freeing all enslaved persons held in states that had seceded from the Union.

That strong visual of the empty chair before that Somerstein photo sparks within me the desire, the need, to look deep within myself, and then beyond myself. To learn. To begin to understand in some small way what it means to be Black in America. To read the history. To recognize how slavery affected generations of families. How the hurts and wrongs of yesterday remain.

The official declaration of Juneteenth as a federal holiday certainly prompts me to research, reflect and contemplate. But I hope this new national observance initiates community conversations that bring change in a nation reeling from racial issues and injustices. It truly takes each of us at a grassroots personal level to effect change.

Recently, I listened as an elderly white woman spouted angry words about George Floyd, murdered by a Minneapolis police officer in May 2020. She claimed that Floyd was being portrayed as a “saint” when he was “nothing but a criminal.” I felt my blood pressure rising as she continued her rant about all the shootings in Minneapolis and how thankful she was that she didn’t live in the Cities. She missed the point of the protests—over police brutality, over racial injustices, over the needless death of a Black man (yes, one with a criminal record) while in police custody. I walked away. And maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have stayed and tried to discuss this with her. But I knew my efforts would prove futile. She saw this all as a metro, not a rural, “problem.”

I disagree. We are all human. No matter where we live, we ought to care about how others are treated, whatever their skin tone. Perhaps today, Juneteenth, we can sit quietly for a bit, contemplate and reflect on life in America today. How can we improve this country, starting right in our own neighborhoods and communities? Within ourselves.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In Janesville: The death of Frankenstein June 18, 2021

Frankenstein in Janesville, MN. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2016.

FOR THE GOOD FOLKS of Janesville, the fiery “death” of Frankenstein last Saturday morning equates the loss of a community icon.

The 20-foot tall fiberglass and steel interpretation of Mary Shelley’s monster loomed on a downtown street corner in this southern Minnesota town of some 2,500. Until the early morning hours of June 12, when a 35-year-old man who lives nearby allegedly torched Frankenstein. He’s been charged with felony arson and damage to property. Only the skeleton remains of the sculpture valued at an estimated $14,000.

A side view of Frankenstein photographed in 2016. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo.

Janesville’s Frankenstein, originally a Vulcan displayed at the 1988 St. Paul Winter Carnival, was reinvented as a Halloween attraction in the metro before a local businessman purchased him from an auction in 2012. I photographed Frankenstein in 2016, finding him an oddity in this small Waseca County town.

But “odd” isn’t new to Janesville. For decades, “The Doll in the Window” was Janesville’s noted attraction. The mannequin, positioned inside an attic window and visible from well-traveled U.S. Highway 14 (which now bypasses the town), was the stuff of creepy legends. The man who displayed the doll died long ago and, from what I found online, a lot of unknowns remain.

Whether Frankenstein is resurrected remains to be seen. For now, folks are honoring him with flowers and other mementos placed at the base of his skeleton, drawing attention once again to this rural Minnesota community.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating Faribault with Heritage Days June 17, 2021

A sweeping view of Faribault from City View Park shows the Shattuck-St. Mary’s campus. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2020.

SUMMERTIME IN MINNESOTA means cramming a whole lot of fun into our days. Lake time and family time. Backyard BBQs. Weddings and grad parties and reunions. And community celebrations. With limited months of sunshine and warmth, we are drawn to such gatherings, especially those that happen outdoors.

This week my community celebrates Faribault Heritage Days. The event kicked off on Wednesday and continues through the weekend.

From a Mayor’s Reception to concerts, BINGO, car and magic shows, cardboard boat and soap box races, fishing and medallion hunt contests, city-wide garage and farmers’ market sales, and much more—including the Grand Parade at 6:15 pm Saturday—there’s lots to see and do. Click here for the complete listing of events.

While Heritage Days doesn’t have the same emotional connection for me as those who grew up here, it still means something. I view the event as a way to connect and grow a sense of community. And, after a year of separation and isolation and canceled community celebrations due to COVID-19, we’re ready for this.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Faribault’s newest mural reflects love, diversity June 16, 2021

“LOVE FOR ALL” created by Jordyn Brennan. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

THE POWER OF VISUAL ART can’t be underestimated. It heals. Uplifts. Infuses joy. Creates a sense of peace. Brings people together. And so much more.

The ASL symbol for “v” and the peace symbol. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

In Faribault, “LOVE FOR ALL,” a just-finished mural designed and painted by Minneapolis artist Jordyn Brennan, shows the positive power of art in a way that reflects my southern Minnesota community. Yet, the mural’s universal theme of love appeals to everyone.

Jordyn Brennan signed her “LOVE FOR ALL” mural. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

I love this 85-foot by 35-foot mural which sprawls across the side of a building (and next to a city-owned parking lot) at the corner of First Avenue NW and Third Street NW in the heart of downtown Faribault. The City of Faribault commissioned Brennan to create the public art. It will be celebrated this week during Faribault Heritage Days with a ceremony at 3:30 pm Thursday, June 17, at the mural site. Guest speakers include city officials, representatives from the Minnesota State Academies for the Deaf and Blind and Faribault Main Street, and the artist.

The setting sun shines on the northwest corner of the mural. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

When I say I love this mural, I should explain, right? I love the vivid hues defining this art. To look at “LOVE FOR ALL” simply makes me happy. And who doesn’t need to feel happy after these past difficult 14 months-plus of living in a pandemic?

LOVE in assorted colors and languages. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

But beyond that basic appreciation, I value the message of an inclusive Faribault. Mine is a diverse community. Diverse in culture and ethnicity. Diverse, too, in that deaf and blind students come here from all over Minnesota to attend the Minnesota State Academies for the Deaf and Blind. Some of their families live here. A global student population also attends Shattuck-St. Mary’s School, an historic private boarding and day school on Faribault’s east side.

The three dots below the L are L in Braille. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

The artist took those facets of Faribault and incorporated them into her artwork. You’ll see that in the hands communicating love in American Sign Language with the Braille spelling below. The hands are painted in varied skin tones.

Mums, peonies and clematis. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

The rare Dwarf Trout Lily. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

Faribault’s noted flowers. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

And then, above those hands, flowers bloom. Not just any flowers, but mums, peonies, clematis and the Dwarf Trout Lily, all reflective of Faribault’s rich floral history. Read the backstory on that in my initial post about the mural by clicking here.

Painted concrete blocks distance vehicles from the mural. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

I feel incredibly grateful to live in a community which values art, including outdoor public art. Many historic-themed murals grace our downtown as do murals on the alley-side of The Upper East Side (213 Central Avenue) and the Second Street Pocket Garden.

The letter L in ASL. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

As a creative and a member of this diverse place I’ve called home for 39 years, I celebrate this newest piece of art. I hope it sparks conversations, creates a strong sense of community and positivity, and reminds all of us that art is powerful. And so is love.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Now what to do about our dirt yard June 15, 2021

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , ,

Last week Tuesday, trenching for a new water line. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

LIVING IN A FISH BOWL, translation along an arterial street through Faribault, means our property is exposed to anyone who passes by. We try to keep our yard looking nice with the lawn mowed, weed growth curbed and flowerbeds tended. I’ve received many compliments on our flowers, especially.

Two sections of sidewalk were removed to access the water connection, leaving part of our front yard and boulevard dug up. The sidewalk has since been replaced. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

But things look a lot different a week out from a major excavation of our property to replace the broken/leaking/corroded water pipe into our house. Our north side yard, a portion of our front yard and sections of the boulevard now showcase dead grass and dirt. It’s a mess. I don’t have any other words.

Our dirt yard. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

I look across the spacious hard-packed dirt parking lot of a lawn and see this: work and money filtering into the earth, adding to the estimated $5,000 expense of replacing that water line.

The heavy excavator packed the soil rock hard. MN Prairie Roots copyrighted photo.

This past weekend Randy and I stood on our lawn destroyed by digging, by the treads of the excavator and by piles of dirt and considered our options—seed or sod. We measured and debated and discussed…and then decided to wait. Whichever option we choose, this is not a good time to restart a lawn due to the heat of summer and the current drought. A KNOW YOUR WATERING SCHEDULE notice included with our water bill on Monday reaffirmed that delay. Under current rules, we can water only three days a week, although exceptions can be made for new sod or seed. Yeah, we’ll just wait.

I don’t feel good about waiting as I like to be a good neighbor. Yet, there are other issues in our neighborhood that have been ongoing and reflect poorly on our neighborhood and remain unresolved. It’s frustrating.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your perspective), ours is also a neighborhood where people cannot afford lawn care services. Springtime brings a bountiful crop of dandelions. Creeping Charlie creeps. Pristine yards are not a priority. But my neighbors keep their lawns mowed, so we’re good.

Once we’re ready to begin this project, we’ll need to till, rake and level the dirt. As Randy pounded the tines of a garden rake into the soil on Saturday, he suggested miners and pick axes. Yes, the ground is that hard—rock hard. But, hey, at least there’s a new indestructible non-metal water line buried deep below that ground. And we have water. And the hydrangea were spared. And the old pipe didn’t burst to the point of water gushing into, and flooding, our entire basement. And we were home when this happened…

TELL ME: If you have any suggestions for our yard, I’m listening.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A strong message from a man who died of COVID-19 June 11, 2021

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:41 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Robert Tersteeg. Image from KLGR website.

HIS LAST NAME, Tersteeg, grabbed my attention as I scrolled through the local funeral announcements on the KLGR radio website. I occasionally check the site since I grew up near Redwood Falls.

Back when I lived in this region of southwestern Minnesota, I associated the surname Tersteeg with a grocery store in this Redwood County community. My mom shopped there and my siblings and I sometimes accompanied her.

But the obituary was for Robert Tersteeg, 46, of Minot, North Dakota, and a native of Bird Island. Not someone from my home county, but from neighboring Renville County. Still, I read the obituary given Robert’s young age and familiar name.

He died on June 3 at the University of Minnesota Hospital “after a fierce battle with COVID-19.”

Now that could be the end of the story. But Rob’s family—or more accurately Rob—wanted more to be shared about this “vicious virus.” The part that humanizes COVID-19, that reveals the regrets of a man who died from the virus:

Rob’s final wish was that his journey with COVID might save even just one more loving husband, son, father, uncle, friend. Rob regretted not being vaccinated and, immediately upon hospitalization, made Amy (his wife) promise to vaccinate the kids (Nikolai, Olivia, Kaylie).

Saturday morning those who loved Rob will gather for his funeral at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Bird Island. He is not just another number in the statistics of COVID deaths. He was a family man who loved and was loved. And now he is gone, too soon, leaving one final wish—a desire to save lives with his message to “get vaccinated.”

#

NOTE: If you are anti-vaccine, please do not comment on this post. I won’t publish your comment on this, my personal blog. I feel grateful to Rob’s family for publicly sharing his final wish/message in a desire to save lives.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Cabin memories, May 2021 June 10, 2021

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Isabelle by the beach. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2021.

SHE RACED BACK AND FORTH along the beach, arms outstretched.

“I’m flying,” she said. “To the moon and into the pink sky.”

My heart brimmed with infinite love as I watched, the moon a pale orb in a sunset sky tinged with streaks of pink. On the far earth below, my 5-year-old granddaughter ran, her imagination flying.

This singular scene defined a recent stay at a family member’s guest lake cabin in the central Minnesota lakes region. For Randy and me, it’s all about enjoying time with those we love most. Connecting. Building memories and bonds that we hope will last a life-time.

Shortly after that stay, Isabelle mailed a picture she’d drawn. It included a rainbow and characters from Frozen inside a pink shape. I thought it was the pink sky of Horseshoe Lake. She clarified that it was simply a pink path. But in my eyes, I see the pink sky.

Horseshoe Lake. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2021.

Memories of days at the lake with our eldest daughter, our son-in-law and our two grandchildren continue to bring me joy. This stay I recruited Izzy to dry dishes while I washed. I also taught her to make s’mores. She counted and cracked graham crackers, then broke Hershey bars to fit. I expect she will assist me again next time we’re at the cabin.

We all sat around the campfire, Randy and Amber roasting marshmallows for s’mores. Sticky faces and fingers added to the memories.

One evening we shared bear stories, starting with Marc’s experience from a childhood camping trip. I added mine. And then Amber brought humor into the mix with her version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Randy tossed in bits about Smokey the Bear and the Hamm’s beer bear. At least the bear tales didn’t scare the grandkids.

A trail winds through Mission Park near the cabin. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2021.

But masses of dragonflies bothered Izzy. Our cabin stay coincided with dragonflies and mayflies invading like a biblical plague. Isaac just walked right through them and didn’t notice when I plucked several dragonflies off him. Yellow jackpine pollen also clouded the air. Because of that, I kept my Canon 20-D mostly tucked inside my camera bag.

The lake temp at the time of our late May visit was still too cold for swimming. So we waded only. Randy fished, hooking a few fish too small to keep. Two warm and sunny days allowed for sunning on the beach for the adults and playing for the kids. Izzy opened Sand Pie Bakery on the afternoon her parents left for a brief jaunt into town. Oh, what fun to order an assortment of fruit pies crafted by Izzy and her brother.

Isaac and I grew closer as we interacted. He now clearly calls me Grandma in the strong voice of a 2 ½-year-old. He also learned to love sliding after we went to a playground in town. I felt exhausted just watching him run up steps, slide and repeat.

Izzy plays with figurines one morning at the cabin. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2021.

All of these family moments I hold precious. Time on the beach. Time inside the cabin—dining together, doing dishes, playing “school” with the kids. Time outside the cabin on nature walks—gathering treasures of stones, shells, pine cones. Watching loons near the dock. There’s nothing quite like viewing the natural world through the eyes of a child. Time outside the local ice cream shop, eating our treats as the afternoon sun and strong wind dripped ice cream onto our hands and the ground.

I cherish these memories. Every. Single. One. Some day perhaps my grown grandchildren will sit around a campfire and reminisce about cabin stays with Grandma and Grandpa. Stories of mayflies and dragonflies, of ice cream and sand pies, and of pink streaking the sky over Horseshoe Lake.

#

TO MY BROTHER-IN-LAW Jon and to my sister-in-law Rosie, thank you from the bottom of our hearts for opening your guest lake cabin to extended family. We feel incredibly blessed by your generosity, by our time at the lake and by the family moments we are sharing and the memories we are building.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling