Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Honoring our veterans: Memorial Day 2010 May 31, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 3:53 PM
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Korean War veteran Ray Sanders reviews a Memorial Day flier prior to a ceremony in Faribault's Central Park.

I NEVER EXPECT TO CRY. But nearly every Memorial Day, I do.

Today tears edge the corners of my eyes as a Korean Conflict memorial wreath is placed upon a white cross during a program in Faribault’s Central Park.

Up until that moment, I am OK. But then, just like that, the emotions surface. I fight to hold back the tears. My lips quiver.

I am thinking of my dad, Elvern Kletscher, who served on the front lines during the Korean War. If he was still here, I would thank him. But now, of my soldier-father, I have only his military photos to peruse, his few shared war stories to remember, his letters to read and his grave to visit.

He has been gone seven years now although, truly, I lost my dad decades before that to the ravages of war.

Today, please take time to remember and honor veterans, those men and women who served our country to preserve the freedoms we enjoy.

The Rice County Veterans Association Honor Guard/Color Guard awaits the start of a Memorial Day program, where memorial wreaths will later be placed upon the white cross seen here in the center of this photo.

An aging veteran, among those we honor this Memorial Day.

A veteran proudly holds the American flag, representing the country he served, the freedom he preserved.

The color guard places American flags in front of the bandshell in Faribault's Central Park.

Just-placed pavers honoring veterans at the Rice County Veterans' Memorial in Faribault, currently under construction at the county courthouse.

A wreath rests on the plaza of the Rice County Veterans' Memorial which is expanding from the Civil War Monument which has long graced the courthouse grounds.

Flags fly at half-staff at the Rice County courthouse.

TO READ A STORY I WROTE about my father, which was published in the book God Answers Prayers Military Edition: True Stories from People Who Serve and Those Who Love Them, click on this link:

http://www.harvesthousepublishers.com/texts/excerpts/9780736916660_exc.htm

Scroll to my story, Faith and Hope in a Land of Heartbreak. This shares the heart-wrenching experiences of my soldier-father and is my tribute to him. This was published in 2005 by Harvest House Publishers, two years after his death.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Minnesota study shows party-goers prefer beer on a hot day May 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:37 PM
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IF YOU HOSTED a party and offered five types of pop and bottled water to your guests on an 89-degree day, which would be the top pick?

What if you threw beer and wine into the mix?

A non-government researcher, in an unscientific study conducted Saturday in Faribault, Minnesota, discovered what the general public, or at least the beer-drinking public, has long known. On a hot day, nothing quite quenches thirst like an icy cold beer.

Now scientists have evidence to back up that long-held theory.

The unidentified civilian researcher reported that he sorted and counted all of the empty beer and soda cans and plastic water bottles following a college graduation party at his home Saturday.

“I didn’t think they (party guests) drank that much beer,” he states in an unofficial report released today by the consumer watchdog group Beverage Counters of America, tasked with analyzing beverage consumption in the Midwest. The researcher stresses that party attendees were drinking responsibly and had designated drivers.

Because the study was limited to three selected beers—Grain Belt, Michelob Golden Draft and Michelob Golden Draft Light—BCA officials warn the results are inconclusive and cannot be applied to the general population.

Beer drinkers at the Faribault research party consumed 14 cans of Michelob Golden Draft Light, the BCA report states. But a source, speaking on condition of anonymity, reveals that those numbers are likely tainted.

Party-goers apparently smuggled their favorite brands, including two cans of Michelob Light, into the unsecured pilot test site in an attempt to skew results. Four empty cans of Coors Light, known to be the beer of choice for at least one guest, were also discovered during the can count.

Grain Belt, long a Minnesota-brewed favorite, ranked second among beer drinkers with 12 cans of the beer consumed at the Faribault test site.

Eight cans of Michelob Golden Draft were also consumed, although researchers are apparently questioning the validity of those findings. An unauthorized woman assisting with the research says she discovered an empty Michelob Draft can tossed into a bird bath and another thrown into a bed of ferns at the test site. The BCA speculates this may have been a covert attempt to sabotage the results.

Consumers at the test site chose from these non-alcoholic beverages.

IN REVIEWING POP CONSUMPTION, the researcher found Fresca to be the top soda selected by party guests 10 times. They were also offered Ruby Red Squirt, Mug root beer, Dr. Pepper and Coke.

Total can counts showed that nine cans each of Squirt and root beer were drunk and four cans each of Dr. Pepper and Coke.

Research specialists evaluating the soda can count data say they are focusing now on whether can colors impacted selection. They note that three of the cans are red, but that the top choice, Fresca, is packaged in a blue-green can. Scientists hypothesize that the brain may be predisposed to selecting a cool color during hot weather like that experienced Saturday at the Minnesota test site.

The BCA report concludes that bottled water consumption in the pilot project equaled that of Fresca with 10 empty water bottles counted.

There were no empty wine bottles.

After receiving funding through the government program Cash for Beer Cans, the BCA now moves into the next phase of its research—expanding its test area and uncovering why icy cold beer is more thirst-quenching than pop on a hot day.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

We talk about the weather, always the weather, here in Minnesota May 26, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:33 AM
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If I was a meteorologist, I could identify these cotton ball masses of clouds that hung over my Faribault home for a short time early Tuesday afternoon, another steamy day in Minnesota. Can anyone identify these?

UNSEASONABLY WARM. Record-breaking temperatures. High humidity.

You knew this blog post had to be coming. If I failed to write about the hot, summer-like weather we’ve experienced in southern Minnesota the past few days, I would risk deportation to Iowa or Wisconsin.

Not that I have anything against those neighboring states, but I am a Minnesotan through and through. And as such, writing or talking about the weather is a given. To do so is a geographical right.

Minnesotans boast/whine/complain/brag (choose your verb) about the weather.

In the winter, we talk about the sub-zero temperatures, windchills, blowing snow, winter storm warnings, blizzard warnings and, oh, yes, school closings.

In the summer we complain about the heat index and the humidity, always the humidity.

In the fall, we worry about an early frost and about too much rain keeping farmers out of fields.

But in the spring, typically, we are more content, unless, of course, the snow lingers too long, the weather is cool and wet or the farmers can’t get in the fields or there’s a late frost or there’s not enough rain.

Let me restate that. Even in spring we live in a season of weather-induced discontent, although we should feel content after six months of winter.

This spring, or at least in recent days, we’ve dealt with record-breaking temperatures. Here in Faribault on Monday, the temp soared to 95 degrees, unheard of for May 24.

In my neighborhood, kids are plunging into wading pools usually reserved for searing summer afternoons.

In my house, just days after our new central air conditioner was readied for use, I clicked the air switch to “on.” The cooling unit ran from Sunday evening to Tuesday evening, when a front brought much-needed rain and cooler temps. Last year we didn’t even install our window air conditioner.

So this is Minnesota. Cool one summer. Hot one spring.

In true Minnesota fashion, I will tell you, it could be worse.

Oh, sky, lovely sky. These clouds captivated me with their unique beauty.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Memorable moments on a Minnesota Honor Flight to D.C. May 24, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:20 AM
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A soldier statue at the Northfield Area Veterans Memorial at Riverside Lions Park in Northfield.

TEARS STREAMED DOWN the old soldier’s face as he read a letter of thanks. The writer could not know how much the note of appreciation meant to this veteran.

But Bob and Louise know. On Saturday the Nerstrand couple accompanied a plane-load of Minnesota WW II veterans on a one-day Honor Flight to Washington, D.C., to visit the WW II and other war memorials. The pair paid for their flight and that of several veterans and served as guardians for two soldiers.

It’s a trip they’ll always remember, particularly “mail call” aboard the flight. As the names of soldiers were read and thank you letters distributed, the tears began to flow. For one veteran, the moment was especially poignant.

Bob shares the man’s story. The soldier, he says, never got, or even expected, a letter while serving in the military. He was an orphan. So Saturday’s mail call deeply touched him, brought the old soldier, and Bob and Louise, to tears.

Many tears fell during that Honor Flight, they say. Bob spoke of the crowds and patriotic escorts, the appreciative signs and personal words of thanks to the soldiers when they arrived in the nation’s Capitol and returned later that evening to Minnesota.

Louise tells of visiting Nerstrand Elementary School to talk about the Honor Flight. The students penned letters of thanks like those received by the orphan soldier.

As Bob and Louise speak of the Honor Flight, goosebumps rise on my arms. I think of my father who fought on the front lines during the Korean Conflict. He was not welcomed home. In some small way, through the words my dad left unspoken, through his years of struggle, I understand the importance of paying respect to WW II soldiers today, decades after they’ve served their country.

I am grateful to Honor Flight organizers and to folks like Bob and Louise who sponsor and accompany these veterans. And I am grateful to the letter writers, for their words have the power to mend a soldier’s heart.

Soldiers' names engraved in pavers at Northfield Area Veterans Memorial Park.

WW II soldiers honored at a veterans' memorial along Minnesota Highway 21 in Shieldsville.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Why Anthony Hauser’s leukemia diagnosis rates as news May 20, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:16 AM
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“WHY ARE THEY DOING A STORY on him?” my husband asks. “Lots of people have cancer.”

I look over at him as we are watching the 10 p.m. news, astonished really that he would say this. He is, after all, married to a former newspaper reporter and a current freelance writer. If anyone should understand why the media is reporting on Anthony Hauser’s leukemia diagnosis, it should be my husband.

“Why are they doing a story on him?” I repeat. “Yeah, lots of people have cancer, but he’s not just anybody.”

Anthony Hauser is the father of Daniel Hauser, the 14-year-old Sleepy Eye boy who a year ago fled with his mother to avoid court-ordered chemotherapy treatment for his Hodgkin’s lymphoma. That, I not so gently explain to my spouse, is why this is news. The elder Hauser reportedly is not undergoing recommended chemotherapy, adding another twist to this ongoing saga that initially captivated a nation.

This conversation with my husband gets me thinking about how those outside the profession view the media and the stories they report. Generally speaking, people tend to blame the messenger—whether it be a newspaper, television, radio or other media source—for all the “bad stuff” happening in the world.

I’ve heard many times the criticism from family and friends wondering why the media reports a particular story. “Because it’s news,” I typically respond although often I want to scream, “Because it’s news!”

And then I want to add, and sometimes do, “Please don’t kill the messenger.” In other words, do not target your anger at the media. Direct your discontent, your anger, at the criminal, the politician, the oil company, the disease, whoever/whatever caused the news that is upsetting you.

I recall several years ago a front page article in The Faribault Daily News about a brown bear at the local library. Had this been a real bear stalking patrons or holed up in a tree near the library, this would have been front page news. But rather, this story told of a brown bear puppet incorporated into children’s story time programming.

In this instance, dear husband, dear reader, you would be right in asking, “Why are they doing a story on this?” A piece like this belongs inside the newspaper, perhaps as a feature, if even that.

From a journalist’s perspective, such stories are “fluff,” at best. It’s not that reporters don’t like writing about subjects that make readers feel all warm and fuzzy, but their primary job is to bring you the news, even the bad news like Anthony Hauser’s leukemia diagnosis.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

I meet the face of homelessness in Faribault May 17, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:22 AM
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ON SUNDAY, I CAME face to face with homelessness for the first time.

Sure, I’d read the news stories and statistics. But in the deepest depths, I never quite believed that homelessness exists in Rice County. We are, after all, out-state Minnesota and not “the Cities.”

However, that naïve thinking—or perhaps it is more an attitude of not wanting to believe—changed when I met a homeless woman after Sunday morning worship services at the Lutheran church I attend in Faribault.

When the middle-aged woman and her companion, a young man perhaps in his late 20s or early 30s, walk into the nearly-empty narthex, I can’t help but notice them. In their worn, casual attire, they don’t really fit in.

Even writing that last sentence, I feel profoundly judgmental. I have just come from a contemporary “Connection” service where I’ve sung about embracing others. Although I can’t recall the exact words, I remember the line about a strange woman slipping into the pews and the staring glances of faithful worshippers.

I will admit that on Sunday morning I am more cautious than welcoming.

As the woman enters the narthex, I approach her because, clearly, she is looking for someone. “Can I help you?” I ask as she walks toward me. Her male friend (or maybe he is her son) is already half way across the room. I am keeping a distrustful eye on him. Earlier this year, a stranger prowled our church during worship services and stole a computer and other items. Since then, we as a congregation have been on watchful alert.

As I am thinking all of this, the woman asks to speak with the pastor, whom she met in March. “Which pastor?” I inquire, giving their names.

She doesn’t remember, but I tell her I will take her to the pastor. As we head toward his office, she explains how she already has been to another church in town that morning seeking help. She found none there, although she says she got a doughnut. That pastor had left for the day.

I am surprised that she shares this information and her first name. Perhaps she is trying to emphasize her desperate situation.

She talks about a man who “tricked” her and something about the wife he is divorcing and that’s why she is without a place to live. I don’t quite understand the situation. But rather than probe, which would be typical of me and my inquisitive nature, I keep quiet.

She seems to need a listening ear and I can at least give her that, and her dignity.

Then she apologizes for her comments. I tell her she’s entitled.

We are walking through the gym now where volunteers are setting up food for an afternoon reception. “Are you having a lunch here?” she asks, the new optimism in her voice noticeable.

“Oh, it’s a reception for someone who’re retiring,” I reply, knowing full well that’s she’s likely hungry. I wish I could offer her some food, but I don’t feel it’s my right to do so.

Then we are at the main office, where the pastor is just leaving.

“These folks would like to talk to you,” I say, wishing I could remember the woman’s name. Typically, I am good at recalling names.

As I turn to leave, the pastor is already jingling his keys, opening his office door to allow the pair inside. The door closes.

I walk away, wondering about this woman and, if by failing to remember her name, it will be easier for me to dismiss her and her homelessness.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Harold, Herschel, uh, I mean Haven, or whoever you are… May 13, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:35 AM
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A FEW DAYS AGO while cleaning my office, I came across an obituary I clipped from the local newspaper in late March. Typically, I am not in the habit of saving obits. But this one intrigued me.

You see, the deceased, 78-year-old Harold D. Bauer of Rochester, was one of 11 children born to Lawrence and Leona Bauer. Right about now you’re likely thinking, well, what’s so unusual about that, Audrey? Big families were the norm years ago. You would, of course, be correct in concluding that.

However, the oddity in this family of Bauers is the children’s names. All 11 offspring have names beginning with the letter “H.”

What were those parents thinking?

For anyone who has more than one child, you’ll understand.

While growing up, I could never comprehend how my mom could call me by the wrong name. “Lanae, dust the furniture,” she might say, looking directly at me. Sometimes she realized her mistake; most often not. Given I have five siblings, this name confusion happened frequently. On occasion, my mom even called me by one of my three brother’s names, the ultimate offense in my youthful opinion.

But when I became a mother of more than one, I finally understood just how easy it is to call a child by a sibling’s name. In haste or anger or frustration, I have blurted out the wrong name. And sometimes, my brain is so full of thoughts that the incorrect name simply trips off my tongue.

Now, imagine if you were Lawrence and Leona Bauer, parents of 11 kids with all those “H” names: Harold, Hazel, Hope, Henry, Homer, Haven, Helmer, Harris, Harlow, Herschel and Harriet.

Can you imagine the mix-ups in that household? And what about teachers who had to remember all those H. Bauer kids? Imagine marrying into the family and trying to remember which “H” went with which face. It couldn’t have been easy.

And how did Lawrence and Leona even come up with all those “H” names? You have to admit that a few names on the above list are unusual.

After I got over my initial interest in all those H. Bauers, I reread Harold D. Bauer’s obituary. He has three daughters, whose names all begin with…the letter “C.”

Cindy. Candace. Charise.

I know, I know, you thought I was going to say “H.”

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Who struck my son on May 12, 2006, in Faribault and then drove away? May 12, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:47 AM
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I have a file thick with information related to my son's hit-and-run. The file includes newspaper clippings, e-mail correspondence with the police, medical and insurance papers, get well cards and more.

EVEN AFTER FOUR YEARS I still hear the questions: “Did they ever catch the driver? How is your son doing?”

I’ll be at the grocery store, a garage sale, the library, when an acquaintance, out of the blue, asks. That interest all these years later catches me by surprise; people, clearly, have not forgotten.

Four years ago today on May 12, a cold and drizzly Friday morning much like today, my then 12-year-old son was struck by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street to his school bus stop in Faribault.

Caleb was not seriously injured considering that he bounced off a car, flew through the air and landed in the street. He suffered a broken bone in his hand, a possible fractured rib and bumps and bruises. However, the long-term affects on his health remain unknown.

Four years later, Faribault police are no closer to solving the crime than they were in 2006.

Initially, several tips came in to the police department. Once, my hopes were raised when a suspect was named in an anonymous letter. That turned out to be an issue of alleged harassment by one person against another and had nothing to do with my son’s case.

Police have checked out vehicles matching the description of the blue 4-door car, possibly a Chevrolet Cavalier or Corsica. Once they even met with a prisoner regarding a car that fit the crime.  All leads have dead-ended.

No one has stepped forward with concrete evidence that ties a driver to the scene near my home, even though a $1,000 reward was initially offered in the case.

I am surprised, really, that the driver who struck my son and then drove away has not talked or confessed. I cannot imagine the guilt of carrying that secret.

While, early on, I was angry and wanted nothing more than to find the driver and hold him/her accountable, now I am more interested in hearing “why.” I want to ask, “Why did you drive away, leaving my boy, my only son, lying there? How could you?” As a mother, I find that action unfathomable.

The police have always contended that the driver had something to hide, a strong reason to continue driving.

I would like answers, and, yes, in all honesty, accountability.

#

A POEM THAT I’ve written related to my son’s hit-and-run recently earned honorable mention in a state-wide competition. Hit-and-Run will publish in The Talking Stick, Volume Nineteen, Forgotten Roads, due out in August from the northern Minnesota based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. My poem finished in the top seven among more than 200 poems submitted in this literary journal competition.

Although the subtitle was not chosen because of my poem, I find Forgotten Roads quite fitting for an anthology that includes Hit-and-Run.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A kidnapping, killing of a police officer, bomb threat & more unnerve Minnesotans May 6, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:47 AM
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THE PAST FEW DAYS have been more than a bit unsettling for Minnesotans.

Here’s why:

  • A 14-year-old girl from tiny Fairfax is kidnapped while on her morning paper route and then sexually-assaulted in a cemetery. She escapes her captor, who has since been arrested and charged.

This happened in rural southwestern Minnesota, an area I know well because I grew up in Redwood County. After I left home and graduated from college, I worked as a newspaper reporter in Gaylord, several small towns away from Fairfax along Minnesota Highway 19. I drove through Fairfax every time I returned to my hometown.

Later, I worked for The Sleepy Eye Herald-Dispatch in Sleepy Eye, even closer to Fairfax. My northern coverage area reached to Fort Ridgely State Park just south of Fairfax.

Somehow, when you know the places involved, a serious crime like this really hits home. And the fact that my cousin Dawn and her family live in Morgan, near where the girl was found, makes this crime even more personal. Read my May 5 blog post to see how Dawn’s family was impacted.

Knowing southwestern Minnesota as I do, I can only imagine how residents of these closely-knit small towns are feeling—shocked, fearful, angry, less trusting, shaken…

  • Tuesday evening a SWAT team gathered on the street by my Faribault home. As I watched, the SWAT vehicle and a contingent of squad cars turned right and proceeded up the hill. I later learned that they made a meth bust three blocks away.

Unfortunately, this is not the first time law enforcement has descended upon my neighborhood. A decade or more ago, they were searching for a knife used in a murder two blocks away.

Yes, I lost my small-town innocence years ago. In the 25 years my family has lived in this house, we’ve called 911 several times. Once, my husband and I awoke to the frantic screams of a woman calling for help in the early hours of a cold January morning. An ambulance hauled one person away.

Another time a young man came to our door pleading for help as he was chased by a pack of young men. And, yes, we saw his pursuers and worried that they would burst into our home.

And then there was the time we, unknowingly, sold a car to a member of a Twin Cities gang. Police later found a gun, involved in a shooting, in the trunk of the car, still registered to us.

Long ago, I lost my trusting innocence.

  • And then, just several days ago, a Minnesota Department of Agriculture employee reportedly threatened to blow up a Minnesota state office building, the place where my eldest works.
  • On Saturday, Maplewood Police Sgt. Joseph Bergeron was shot to death, still buckled in his seatbelt, en route to investigate a reported car-jacking.

Yes, these have been unsettling days for me, and for many Minnesotans.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

I get free green beans (and lots more) at the Faribault Expo April 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:37 PM
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WHEN I VISITED the annual Faribault Business Expo and Community Showcase for the first time on Thursday evening, I didn’t know quite what to expect.

“Surprised” best summarizes my reaction.

First, I am surprised to see so many vehicles encircling the Faribault Ice Arena, where the event is held. My husband and I even have to wait for a parking spot to open up.

Once inside, I am a bit overwhelmed by the rows of booths spread out before me. But you have to start somewhere, and I begin by accepting a still-warm chocolate chip cookie, a vendor freebie. Considering that I haven’t eaten supper, I wolf down the treat and a second cookie offered a few booths away.

Already I like this expo. But it gets better. A guy dressed in corny corn head-wear hands my husband a can of Spaghetti Rings. “She’ll take the beans,” he tells the Faribault Foods, Inc, rep and I’m handed a can of Butter Kernel green beans.

Freebies from the Faribault Expo.

Now I’m looking for a cloth bag to carry my loot. I settle temporarily for a paper bag from the folks peddling hearing aids. Considering my ear specialist has told me I really need a hearing aid for my right ear, I talk to the hearing aid vendor for a few minutes, all the time straining to hear him above the buzz of conversation that fills this arena.

Then I move on to The Cheese Cave and introduce myself to Laura. I’ve blogged about Faribault Dairy Company’s specialty cheeses several times and am an enthusiastic promoter of the firm’s cave-aged blue and other cheeses. Simply put, I love this cheese. With three huge plates of St. Mary’s grass fed Gouda, St. Pete’s Select blue cheese and Fini, a sharp cheddar, laid out before me, I can’t resist spearing toothpicks into a cube of each.

I continue down the aisle, tossing bean bags until a vendor finally nudges my fifth bag into the hole and hands me a cloth bag. I tell him I’m not athletic. When he calls me a “good sport,” I feel my face flush.

Twice I try to putt a golf ball into a hole for other prizes that I can’t even recall now. I’m no Tiger Woods, not that I would want to be Tiger Woods.

And then, there’s Plinko. I’m excited about the State Bank of Faribault’s game patterned after The Price is Right Plinko board. I could win $100. But I don’t. I win a lint remover. My husband does better, winning a cooler of sorts that we can’t quite figure out.

All told, by the time we leave the expo, we have pens and pencils, can coolers, a mug, candy, pizza cutters, magnets, informational brochures, a note pad and those two cans of canned food.

Lest you think I’ve come simply for the freebies, you would be wrong. I talk to printers, a cell phone provider, journalists, the police chief, art center and rental center employees, a historian, a restaurateur, carpet cleaner, radio station personnel, bankers and friends.

Oh, and I register for a gazillion prizes.

The entire event impresses me and I expect I’ll return next year. Then, though, I hope to see some of the ethnic businesses that have become an important part of the Faribault community. I don’t recall seeing a single one at the expo.

And, I’m hoping too that another week night is chosen for this event. Some downtown Faribault businesses are open on Thursday evenings, and holding the expo on a Thursday excludes many of them.

There’s always room for improvement, including my need to work on my golf swing and tossing bean bags.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling