Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Happy birthday, Randy October 12, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:52 PM
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TODAY MY HUSBAND is celebrating his 55th birthday, which now officially makes him as old as me. Yeah, I was smart and married a younger man, albeit by only about two weeks.

I’ve been contemplating what message to write here today to him. I decided, instead, to tell you a few things about Randy.

He’s the oldest boy in a family of nine children and was born in North Dakota, where he attended a one-room country school. As the story goes, one day the students were kept inside during recess because of coyotes roaming the schoolyard. True story, he swears.

Randy moved with his family to central Minnesota when he was six or seven, or some young age like that.

It was on the family’s farm south of Buckman that Randy saved his father’s life. Yes, you read that correctly. He saved his dad’s life. My spouse seldom talks about that October 21, 1967, accident shortly after his 11th birthday.

But he was there as his dad’s hand was pulled, along with corn stalks, into the spring-loaded rollers of a corn chopper. Blades sliced off his father’s fingers. Rollers trapped his arm.

And Randy was there to disengage the power take-off. He then raced across swampland and pasture to a neighbor’s farm. To save his father’s life. (You can read the details by clicking here.)

An Allis Chalmers corn chopper like this one exhibited at the 2010 Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Show, claimed my father-in-law's left hand and much of his arm in a 1967 accident. That's my husband, Randy, who saved his dad's life by running for help.

My spouse possesses a calm demeanor, meaning not much rattles him. He’s soft-spoken and funny in that quirky kind of humor way.

He does sudoku puzzles and is good at math and numbers and figuring stuff out.

His work as an automotive machinist at Parts Department, Inc., Northfield (NAPA) is always in demand. Suffice to say you better get in line. He’s that good at his job.

Randy at work in the NAPA machine shop in Northfield where he's worked since 1983.

He once owned a Harley, which was smashed in a crash, and once won a trip to the Bahamas.

Right about now, Randy’s probably eating his second or third piece of apple pie bars, his birthday treat at work. Tonight I’ll serve him his favorite cake, angel food, topped with one of his favorite fruits, raspberries.

Speaking of which, I need to bake that cake. Now.

Happy birthday and many more, Randy! (See, I used an exclamation mark, which I never use in my writing.)

I love you.

IF YOU WISH to leave a birthday message for Randy here, please do so. He reads my blog and is, indeed, one of my most vocal fans. Thank you for always supporting me in my writing, Randy.

 

Fill the grain bin in Dennison October 6, 2011

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SO, TODAY WE’RE GOING to talk signs. Not just any signs, but those homemade signs you find in rural Minnesota.

Chances are, no matter where you live, you drive or walk by creative signage every day and don’t give it a second thought. The signs have simply become part of your landscape. You fail to notice either the messages or the art.

And, yes, signs fall into my definition of art.

But then one day an outsider like me comes to town. And I view your town with fresh eyes. I notice the details—the windows and doors, the wood and brick, and the signs that define your community.

Main Street in Dennison, from city hall north.

That is how I happened upon a unique fundraising sign in Dennison, a community of 168 which straddles the Rice/Goodhue county lines in southeastern Minnesota. My husband and I stopped in Dennison while on a Sunday afternoon drive to view the fall colors in the Sogn Valley area.

There, along Goodhue County Road 9, the main east-west road through town, I found this sign appropriately placed by the Farmers State Bank.

Fronting the road and the bank, this sign tracks contributions to the park fund.

Now, whoever dreamed up this sign deserves some type of recognition for effort and creativity.

Dennison is a farming community. The sign reflects that ag heritage with the half-full grain bin. You did notice the corn and the grain bin, right?

The goal is to fill this grain bin and build that park. Want to help? Contact the city or Farmers State Bank.

The promoters of this park project could have designed the typical graph or thermometer sign to track contributions. But, instead, the sign honors the rural heart of Dennison. You simply have to appreciate that type of creative thinking.

You also have to value the sense of community that defines towns like Dennison. Here folks work together to raise funds for a park and don’t/probably can’t rely on government.

Well done, Dennison, and may you get a good corn yield this fall. Enough to fill the bin.

CHECK BACK for another post featuring interesting signage I found in rural Minnesota.

CLICK HERE to see signs I photographed recently in downtown Janesville.

ALSO, CLICK HERE to see sign images taken a year ago in Pemberton.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A closer look at St. John’s Germanfest October 2, 2011

Kassandra and the goat that would soon be hers.

IN MY OPINION, Kim Keller rates as a pretty easy-going mom. I mean, she let her 10-year-old daughter bring a goat home from Germanfest. Honestly, if you were a kid, wouldn’t you want Kim for your mom?

So here’s how I found out about this goat thing. I was wandering the church grounds at St. John’s United Church of Christ, Wheeling Township, last Sunday afternoon during Germanfest searching for photo ops.

I followed a girl leading a wisp of a goat, a kid (not the girl) which seemed a bit stubborn and independent as goats are wont to be. This wasn’t Kim’s daughter and I wasn’t having any luck capturing a photo I liked.

Then along came Kassandra, Kim’s daughter, with a bottle of milk. The goat, which apparently wasn’t all that hungry, didn’t seem too interested in drinking. But Kassandra pursued the goat and I pursued the goat and Kassandra until we both got what we wanted: her the goat, me the photo.

Kim took it all in stride—said it was just another animal to add to the family’s menagerie.

Another goat in the Germanfest petting zoo.

A volunteer dressed in an ethnic German costume tends a petting zoo bunny.

Geese and other fowl were popular petting zoo attractions.

IF YOU’RE A REGULAR FOLLOWER of Minnesota Prairie Roots, you should have figured out by now that I pay attention to detail. You’ll read that in my writing, see it in my photography.

I don’t view situations and scenes like most folks. I’m constantly searching for a new angle from which to shoot a photo or tell a story.

I engage my senses, even though one of them, my hearing, is not what it once was due to sudden sensory hearing loss (and now near-deafness) in my right ear. But I did hear Craig Keller comment from the Germanfest dance floor, as I aimed my camera toward the dancers, that this would be on the internet.

So, Craig, just because you said that, here you are, on the internet.

That's Craig, dressed in his lederhosen, dancing with his partner on the right. On the left is Amy's mom, Annette. The Stuttgart Three is performing.

I saw these artsy music stands and thought, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen something like these.” They jogged my memory of old-time wedding dances in town halls, the chicken dance, dollar dance, polka until you can’t polka any more…

I’VE COORDINATED SOME major public events in my life, namely a school book festival and an art show at my church, several times, not to mention more youth group fundraisers than I care to remember.

But one thing I refuse to do is coordinate anything that involves food. Although I cook and bake, I do not particularly enjoy cooking. I love to bake, but seldom bake because then, you know, I eat the baked goods, which I don’t need.

Now, after that rambling paragraph, let’s get to the point. I am in awe of people like the volunteers at St. John’s United Church of Christ who prepare enough food to feed the multitudes, this year around 700.

One of the many volunteer worker lists I saw posted in the fellowship hall area.

Long-time church member and volunteer Elsie Keller prepares German potato salad.

ONE OF THE BEST PLACES to discover artistic talent, I’ve learned, is at silent auctions. Honestly, look what I found at Germanfest.

No words needed.

Woodcarvings for sale at the silent auction.

Inside St. John's sanctuary, homemade quilts blanketed the pews. They were not for sale. Each church family was asked to bring a quilt for display along with the story behind it. Up front, three women demonstrated stitching techniques.

I DON’T KNOW how many Germanfest attendees paused to examine the German books and documents displayed in the church narthex. But I’m always interested in such items because not only am I 100 percent German and interested in “old stuff,” but I once considered majoring in German in college (which means I would not have become a writer; I think I made the right choice).

Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

A Deutsche document from St. John's.

FINALLY, BECAUSE I CAN, I wanted to show you this photo of pumpkins at the farmer’s market section of Germanfest.

To be truthful, though, it wasn’t the pumpkins that interested me as much as the antique table. Those legs caught my eye and I wanted to throw that checkered tablecloth right off the table top and slide my hand across the worn wood.

Country store pumpkins on that old table I noticed.

THE NEXT TIME you’re out and about, I challenge you to notice the details.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Another fire in my Faribault neighborhood September 30, 2011

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THERE’S BEEN ANOTHER fire in my neighborhood, this one two blocks away instead of directly across the street.

And this one happened at 1 a.m. in a vacant, foreclosed house in the 700 block of Willow Street instead of in the late afternoon in an occupied dwelling. (Click here to read about the September 10 fire at my neighbor’s house.)

This time I didn’t race to the scene, allow I certainly could have. The contingent of fire and police vehicles, with sirens screaming, woke me with a jolt early this morning. Typically I don’t think much of sirens in the middle of the night. Living along a busy street, I hear them all too often.

But when multiple emergency vehicles just keep racing by and sirens shut off near my home, I take note.

So I pulled myself out of bed, grabbed my glasses, peered out the window, failed to see anything and slid back under the covers.

At 1:19 a.m., when another fire truck—this time the ladder truck—roared past, I slipped barefoot out the front door, descended the steps to the end of the sidewalk and peered down the street toward emergency lights flashing in the blackness of the night.

I couldn’t see flames, didn’t smell smoke. But, still, I pondered whether I should change into street clothes, grab my camera and go.

I didn’t. While I’m a blogger, I’m no longer a newspaper reporter and photographer. My days of chasing fire trucks ended decades ago. Yet, that urge, that desire, that curiosity, remain.

I crawled back into bed, wide awake, the adrenaline still pumping, wondering how my husband could seem so disinterested in the drama unfolding nearby. He’s calm like that and able to shut out distractions once his head hits the pillow. He wanted to sleep.

Me? Surprisingly, I fell asleep relatively easily. But I slept fitfully, dreamed about firemen and police and a tarp covering bodies on a flat bed trailer.

And when I awoke six hours later, contacted the editor of The Faribault Daily News about the fire and read the story posted online around noon, I was relieved to know that my nightmare was only that, a nightmare, with no truth to it.

Click here to read The Daily News article.

Then click here to read The Daily News article about a fire at the same house during the early morning hours of May 19. That first suspicious fire caused only minimal damage to the home, owned by Wells Fargo.

Compare the two photos in the separate stories. You’ll see significantly more damage done during the second fire.

It’s pretty clear to me that someone is determined to burn down this house.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Trying tofu at a soup party

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Guests gather inside and outside a Waseca garage for an autumn soup party.

IT IS, FOR MY EXTENDED FAMILY, a rite of autumn in Minnesota.

The orange tub of cheese balls. My nieces’ bloody finger cookies. Julie’s homemade breads, still warm from the oven. Vintage trays stacked high. Crockpots, brimming with soup, crammed onto tables inside the garage. Sampling each soup or chili. And afterward, conversation and laughter around the backyard campfire.

Last Saturday night my sister Lanae and her husband Dale hosted their eighth annual soup party at their Waseca home for family and friends. For me, and many others, it’s a must-attend autumn event.

Tortellini with Italian Sausage Soup, left, and German Potato Salad and Creamy Corn with Jalapeno soups to the right in photo.

Homemade breads, this year crafted by Lanae and Dale's friends, Julie and Vicki.

Bloody finger cookies, a soup party tradition.

Sweatshirt weather on a day that transitions quickly from cool to cooler. Oranges and reds and yellows. Chili that bites and heats the innards. Comfort in the familiarity of Chicken Noodle Soup laced with thick, homemade noodles. Unfamiliarity in the Chinese Hot & Sour Soup among these mostly Germans more connected to the German Potato Salad Soup.

Trying tofu for the first time in that tasty Chinese soup.

Listening to my other sister share how her family detests the stench of the Broccoli Cheese Soup she brings every year.

Trading left-overs with Carol, who raves about my Black Bean Pumpkin Soup, which I don’t find all that great. I think I’m the winner, getting her Chicken Noodle Soup. Carols thinks she’s gotten the better end of the swap. It is a matter of opinion, a matter of taste preferences.

Crocks of soups and chilis are set up on tables inside the garage.

Vintage metal trays provide the perfect place to set bowls of soup/chili and other food.

Before the party, guests tell my sister what soup/chili they are bringing so she has labels ready to mark each soup on party night.

We don’t arrive expecting to like all of the soups and chilis—15 this year:

  • Chinese Hot & Sour
  • Reuben Chowder
  • Broccoli Cheese
  • Gunflint Chili
  • White Chili
  • Chocolate (yes, soup)
  • Lemon Orzo
  • Tortellini with Italian Sausage
  • German Potato Salad (yes, soup)
  • Ham & Bean
  • Creamy Corn with Jalapeno,
  • Pumpkin Black Bean
  • Stuffed Sweet Pepper
  • Chicken Noodle
  • Red Chili

But we arrive expecting to enjoy ourselves in the company of family and friends on a beautiful autumn evening in Minnesota. And we do. And I did.

Soups/chilis are uncovered and party-goers start lining up to sample the offerings.

THANKS, LANAE AND DALE, for hosting this fun, tasty event.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Praise, polkas and more at St. John’s Germanfest September 26, 2011

The Ray Sands Band played from 1 - 3 p.m. under the tent at Germanfest.

“APPLES, PEACHES, PUMPKIN PIE, who’s afraid to holler I…”

Above the plaintive baaing of a goat in the petting zoo, the old-time band pumped out the polka which isn’t about pie at all, but about love.

And so, under the tent, the bands played—Tim Chlan and Friends, The Ray Sands Band and The Stuttgart Three—at St. John’s United Church of Christ’s annual Germanfest in Wheeling Township near Nerstrand Big Woods State Park.

My husband and I arrived mid-afternoon Sunday to take in this annual celebration of the congregation’s German heritage during a polka praise service and more. As we sang the near-and-dear words of age-old hymns, the tangy scent of vinegar drifted into the sanctuary. “Just as I am, without one plea…Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee…”

The Stuttgart Three from Rochester led the polka praise service inside St. John's sanctuary.

A musical quartet presented "Cleanse Me" and "Reach Out to Jesus" during the praise service.

Afterward we broke bread in the fellowship hall over a German buffet. Sauerkraut and sauerbraten. Brats. Rinderwurst and beets and green beans with bacon. Vinegar-laced German potato salad and mashed potatoes and more foods than I can remember. Homemade. Three hundred pounds of potatoes peeled. Nearly 60 dozen brats boiled and grilled. Bread pudding made from grandma’s recipe. Good, hearty food that tasted of the Mother Land.

It didn’t matter whether you were Deutsch or Dutch, Lutheran or Catholic or a long-time church member, whether a first-time attendee from Centerville or Faribault or a faithful former member from Blooming Prairie, you enjoyed, simply enjoyed, the hospitality of this congregation.

Diners enjoyed a German buffet in the fellowship hall before and after the praise service.

Deutsche food: German potato salad, red cabbage, sauerbraten, rinderwurst, a brat, sauerkraut, beets and green beans on my plate.

Volunteers kept the buffet trays filled with delicious homemade German foods.

Bingo and a quilt show. Geese and ponies and goats and birds in a petting zoo. Woodcarvings at the silent auction. Homebaked goods in the country store. Jars of apple jelly, glistening like gems in the sun. All of it, together, creating a memorable afternoon at this country church set among the flat corn and soybean fields of eastern Rice County.

This is the season of church festivals and dinners—of lutefisk and Swedish meatballs and ham and of vegetables dug from the earth.

It is a time to gather close, to remember the homeland from whence we came, to celebrate our heritage, to rejoice in the harvest.

The sanctuary was decorated throughout with harvest vignettes, including this one on the altar.

St. John's members make apple jelly and apple butter from fruit growing on an apple tree in the churchyard. The jelly and butter are sold at the festival.

Juniper, 15 months, enjoyed the birds and animals at the petting zoo.

As is typical of most church festivals, attendees could play bingo outside under a tent.

Many of the volunteer workers dressed in German costumes.

Each member of St. John's was asked to bring a quilt for the quilt show in the sanctuary. Quilts were draped over pews with brief information attached to each.

The Bultman family poses for a photo outside the stone church.

The brat and root beer stand next to the music tent.

The festival grounds at St. John's U.C.C., Wheeling Township.

St. John's sits among the farm fields along Rice County Road 24

DO YOU ATTEND CHURCH dinners or festivals? If you have or know of an upcoming must-attend dinner, submit a comment. I’d like to hear about it.

ALSO, CHECK BACK for more photos from Germanfest.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Appreciating the little things at a barn dance & in life September 20, 2011

COUNTLESS TIMES my husband and I have driven into John and Debbie Becker’s rural Dundas yard for bible study and not given their barn a second thought. Maybe we’ve glanced toward it, noticed the 1915 date on the cupola or the cow art on the exterior milkhouse wall. But beyond that and John’s occasional comment that he’d like to have a barn dance, we really haven’t focused too much on that building which centers the farm (although I did photograph the exterior one evening this past summer).

Notice the cow art on the milkhouse in this image taken several months ago.

That all changed Saturday when the Beckers hosted their first-ever Harvest Time Barn Dance. I was there with camera in tow trying to capture the essence of the event via my photography.

That involved not only taking the general overall photos you would expect, but zooming in on the details. It is the details, like chapters in a book, that combined tell the complete story.

So today, in this post, I want you to see the “little things” I noticed. And I want to encourage you, as you go about your daily, busy lives, to pause and see the details. They make life interesting and fun and joyful and memorable.

All too often we hurry here and there, filling our minutes and hours and days and weeks—and then months and years—with activities and work and busyness. We miss out on so much of life by living that way.

We all need a barn dance to appreciate the sweet details of life.

There's something about this "boy in bibs looking out the barn door" that is sweet and endearing.

Herb Becker painted this on the west end of the barn interior in 1958. Family members are uncertain what it means, but John Becker thinks it may have something to do with his mom being pregnant with him then.

Most of the kids dressed in western attire, right down to the tips of their cowgirl/cowboy boots and hats.

A hammer high on a screen has hung there for 40 - 50 years and is used to close the barn window, John Becker says.

A vintage fanning mill was displayed along the pathway into the barn.

Among the signage decorating the barn interior: the Beckers' seed corn sign

Farm humor: "De-CALF coffee

Kids played in the farmyard...just using their imaginations. No electronics, toys, etc., necessary.

Kids weren't the only ones carrying cap guns. I managed to pull the pistols from this deputy sheriff's holsters twice before he pulled out his handcuffs and threatened to cuff me.

When I composed this frame, I considered the barn dances held here in the 1930s and how bands have changed with computers and high tech instruments. The contrast between old and new was not lost on me in this setting.

In one of my favorite images, I captured this sweet interaction, the bending down to the child's level, the care, the love and concern shown in this simple act. I saw that repeatedly at the barn dance, in the clasp of a child's hand, in a child atop her dad's shoulders, in hands joining on the dance floor...

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

God’s beauty blooms in Richard’s art September 18, 2011

I HAVE NOT MET Richard Vilendrer, only spoken with him briefly on the phone.

Yet, I feel a connection to this 72-year-old Faribault man, this artist who creates art for the pure joy of doing so. I understand that. It is the same reason I write and take photos for this blog.

You can see that joy in Richard’s art, which I discovered Saturday morning at the Faribault Farmer’s Market. I had passed only a few vendors’ booths—laden with the typical fresh produce, flowers and baked goods you would expect to find in this venue—when I noticed the pen-and-ink and colored pencil drawings vended by Carol Vilendrer, Richard’s wife of 35 years.

I stopped and just stood there. And it flashed through my mind that this Christian-themed art would be a good fit for Christian greeting cards. And when I looked further, I saw that Richard had already made cards. But I write greeting card verses for an Indiana-based publisher and I asked Carol then and there if I could direct my editor to Richard’s work. So I am. I don’t know if this will go anywhere; I have to try, though.

There’s a certain passion in Richard’s art and you can sense that when you speak with the man. He doesn’t do this for the money—although he’s sold some pieces—but for the pure enjoyment of creating art.

Since grade school this former Faribault Regional Center employee, who worked with handicapped children until the center closed, has put pencil to paper. As a youth, when he should have been listening in English class, he was instead inspired by textbook images—of Indians and of soldiers in helmets and of airplanes—to duplicate those drawings.

Scripture and Christian songs inspire Richard.

Today words from a song heard on Twin Cities-based Christian radio station KTIS, or words from Scripture or a found feather on a nature walk inspire him to first draw in pencil, then go over the pencil with ink and finally fill in with colored pencil.

He prefers to draw small, detailed subjects like his hand or a feather or a maple leaf. Yet, he’s also drawn John Deere tractors and buildings and classic cars.

Richard uses a technique called cross hatching—to perfect shading—by using a ball point pen to draw lines close together in one direction and then crosses in an opposite direction. He learned that in high school. Mostly, though, he’s self-taught, without formal training. He calls his artistic skills a “God-given talent.”

This man of faith has used that gift from God to create artwork for fundraisers at his church, Divine Mercy in Faribault.

A year ago, he suffered a stroke. But even in that he sees the blessing—the stroke affected his entire right side, not his left. Richard, the artist, is left-handed.

Nature and faith inspire his detailed art.

A pen-and-ink drawing of a building at the former Faribault Regional Center where Richard worked.

St. Lawrence Church in Faribault where Richard and Carol Vilendrer were married 35 years ago this coming October 1.

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED in purchasing Richard’s art or learning more about him, submit your contact information (which I will not publish) in a comment and I will pass that along to Richard.

PLEASE NOTE THAT the photos in this post are not 100 percent accurate to the true colors of Richard’s work. His drawings were wrapped in plastic, which filtered the colors and which created some glare. I edited each image somewhat to overcome those challenges.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A firefighter’s praise for “Ted from Owatonna” September 16, 2011

Ted Leon, initially known only as "Ted from Owatonna," extinguishes the fire on and under my neighbor's deck with water from a garden hose late Saturday afternoon. Ted was the first on the scene.

FIVE DAYS AFTER Ted Leon of Owatonna, the passerby who extinguished a deck fire at my neighbor’s house with water from a garden hose, I spoke to a Faribault firefighter who responded to the scene. As you recall, my initial post about Ted sparked a whirlwind of media coverage to find “Ted from Owatonna.”

I wanted to hear what professional Joel Hansen, whom I’ve personally known for years, thought of Ted’s actions. I was finally able to connect with Joel late Thursday morning; he had been off-duty for several days.

“What he did was very heroic, very courageous,” Joel says.

Ted ran onto the burning deck and banged on the front door to alert the Klocek family of the late Saturday afternoon fire before putting out the blaze himself. Kristin Klocek and her young daughter escaped through a side door into the garage.

“He went way and above what a normal person would do. I’m encouraged to see someone who got that involved,” Joel says, emphasizing that dialing 911 to get the fire department en route should be the first course of action in any fire. Ted’s wife, Kathe, made that call.

Joel praises Ted for stopping, getting that emergency call in via Kathe, focusing first on the safety of the residents, and then having the presence of mind to look for a garden hose to put out the fire.

“Life safety is first,” Joel says. “We want people to be safe.”

Ted, he says, seemed to be aware of his safety, to know what he was doing and to understand that he had options—like leaping over the deck railing—had that become necessary to escape the flames.

“I wouldn’t encourage someone to put themselves in harm’s way,” Joel says, “but I wouldn’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing (as a passerby like Ted).”

In this photo you can see the scorched deck and how the heat of the fire melted the vinyl siding.

If Ted hadn’t extinguished the fire when he did, there would have been “substantially more damage” to the deck and home exterior before firefighters arrived, Joel says. The Kloceks live about six blocks from the fire station, mere minutes away. Damage to the home was limited to a partially-burned deck and wood chips underneath and to the front door and siding, which were warped due to the intense heat.

Statistics show that a fire doubles in size every three minutes, according to Joel.

BESIDES TED’S HEROISM, Joel and I talked in general about how people react to a fire. Some panic. Others call 911 and then leave. Some have no concern for personal safety… Then he mentioned “tunnel vision.”

I told Joel I was so focused on making sure my neighbors were safe and Ted was so focused on getting the blaze out (after he knew the family was aware of the fire) that we didn’t communicate. Joel wasn’t surprised.

Then he asked if I looked for traffic before crossing Tower Place as I ran toward my neighbor’s home during the fire. I did. I distinctly remember telling myself to stop and look for cars.

But I don’t recall hearing emergency sirens, although I watched two police cars and a fire truck race down Willow Street toward the scene. My husband assures me the sirens were blaring.

In contrast, I remember sidestepping a pile of dog poop in the Kloceks’ yard and reminding myself to avoid that patch of grass. I was barefoot.

I recall seeing a woman on her cell phone in the Kloceks’ side yard. I also recall a young man in the front yard, someone my husband later noted as a motorist who had pulled over in his truck and parked along Tower Place.

FOR NIGHTS AFTER THE FIRE, I didn’t sleep well. The first night I was twice awakened by emergency sirens. We live along an ambulance route, an arterial street through town, and I’ve become so accustomed to sirens that I often sleep right through them. But not Saturday night.

At 5:30 a.m . Sunday I awoke to the smell of smoke and flew out of bed to check if the fire at my neighbor’s house had rekindled. It hadn’t. Later I realized the smoke odor likely came from a smoldering campfire.

For days afterward I felt emotionally-drained. Talking with Joel on Thursday proved cathartic. He understood how my emotional involvement—knowing the family—affected my reactions at the fire. He understood my lingering thoughts and emotions even days afterward.

I shared with him that I have a new appreciation for how rapidly a fire can spread.

He’s heard it all—how people think a fire can never happen to them, how they intended to replace the batteries in a smoke detector…

Before Joel and I ended our conversation, I asked him about an award for Ted. He can’t speak publicly about that possibility, he says, because such an honor would be routed through the local union (not the fire department) and that involves a specific process.

But you can read between the lines here. I fully expect Ted to be honored. And you can bet I’ll be there thanking him. Again.

CLICK HERE to read a story on today’s The Northfield News website about a fire just outside Dundas that sounds all too-recently familiar. The Thursday morning fire also involved a passerby, a garden hose and a cigarette.

CLICK HERE to read my first fire post.

CLICK HERE to read my interview with Ted Leon, whom I’ve termed our “Willow Street neighborhood hero.”

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Would you buy a Vanuck or…? September 15, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:36 AM
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TYPICALLY, MY HUSBAND and I don’t meddle in our two adult daughters’ lives. We don’t intrude or hover like helicopter parents. Advice is given only when sought. We’ve learned it works best that way.

But when it comes to cars, well, that’s entirely different. I can’t even count how often the phone has rung with one daughter or the other on the line saying:

  • “My car is making a funny noise.”
  • “My car won’t start.”
  • “I have a flat tire.”
  • “I need my oil changed.”

And so their dad, an automotive machinist, steps in to help whenever he can, in person or with advice over the phone. He has the knowledge and the skills to problem-solve nearly any mechanical issue.

Yet, though, because of distance—our second daughter now lives in eastern Wisconsin—or circumstances (like a broken down car parked at a St. Paul gas station), he can’t always assist. He’ll offer his suggestions and the daughters have to take it from there.

Recently our 25-year-old daughter, the one who lives in Minneapolis, decided she wants to purchase a different car to replace her 1995 Geo Prizm. She’s driven her Geo since high school and it’s starting to show its age.

While she’s been researching cars online, we did a little car shopping of our own for her when we were back in my hometown of Vesta recently. We found three possible vehicle replacements. Here they are in no particular order, with as much information as was available about each.

CHOICE A:

Chevy Cobalt

A 2002 – 2006 (the automotive machinist was uncertain) Chevy Cobalt. Clean interior.

CHOICE B:

2008 Ford Focus

A 2008 Ford Focus one-owner, never-smoked-in (yeah, important point), with new tires (plus), clean interior (bonus), 34 – 40 mpg (yahoo), and only 57,000 miles (nice number). However, the car was priced at $12,000, about double our daughter’s budgeted amount.

CHOICE C:

The "Vanuck," which did not have a "for sale" sign posted on it, but sat in the Dave's Auto Used Cars lot.

A truly one-of-a-kind Ford vehicle that cannot be defined, so let’s call it a Vanuck. Front features a roomy 11 – 12-passenger van (great for transporting our daughter’s many friends). Back features a spacious storage area for bikes, tents, groceries, whatever (bonus). Appears well-constructed with a strong weld and new under-body framework (good safety features). However, back door of van section cannot be opened (negative for passenger safety in event of an emergency). Mileage uncertain, but probably low (two thumbs down). Not likely to be stolen (two thumbs up). Size may make it difficult to maneuver (ahem, back up) or navigate through metro traffic.

SO, WHICH OF THE ABOVE should we recommend to our daughter? Or should she/we keep shopping? Submit a comment. I’d like your helpful input.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling