Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

PEACHES and cheese and Splitladder Syder August 20, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:33 PM
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IF I HAD TO NAME my favorite fruits, I would choose blueberries, strawberries and peaches.

So you can imagine my excitement upon glimpsing a PEACHES sign while traveling along Minnesota Highway 60 near Lake Crystal last Saturday morning. Unfortunately my husband and I were on a tight schedule and were heading away from that tempting sign.

Welsh Heritage Farms Apple Orchard & Pie Shop near Lake Crystal

Fast forward to the early evening hours when, upon our return trip, I remembered that PEACHES place just in time for Randy to veer into the right turn lane.

I’m so glad I made that split-second decision to stop. We discovered not only juicy Missouri peaches at Welsh Heritage Farms, but a plethora of other goodies inside the double red pole sheds. Heritage Farms, a family-owned business which advertises itself as an apple orchard and pie shop, is that and much more.

I eyed the apple crisp and apple butter, the mustard, the honey and the soup mixes among the many offerings. I tasted the apple cider donuts and almost gave in to hunger pangs. But I stuck to the healthy peaches and Michigan blueberries. Well, not quite, as you will read.

Tempting Welsh Heritage Farms cider donuts

Honey from Harris Honey Company in nearby Madelia

Country style buckets for the in-season peaches

Missouri peaches for the picking from the peach wagon.

NEXT TO THE MAIN BUSINESS sits another building, Harbo Cider Winery and Cheese Shop. We were directed there by Pamela Harbo, Welsh Heritage Farms co-owner/operator. Her son, Tim, runs the business. For a cheese-lover like me, this equates cheese heaven.

Harbo Cider Winery & Cheese Shop next to Welsh Heritage Farms

Tim carries 47 varieties of cheese, all of which (if I recall) hail from Wisconsin. Yes, I felt a moment of disloyalty to Minnesota cheese makers. But that didn’t stop me from sampling several cheeses and purchasing Henning’s Blueberry Cobbler Cheddar—a white cheddar marbled with blueberries—and Hook’s Blue Paradise ™ Cheese, the creamiest blue cheese I’ve ever tasted. (My apologies to the Swiss Valley Farms Cooperative of Iowa which recently purchased Faribo Dairy, my community’s maker of outstanding Amablu and Amablu St. Pete’s Select blue cheeses.)

Of course, along with that cheese, we needed a little wine, or hard cider. Unfamiliar with hard cider, I asked Tim for an explanation as I sipped. Hard cider is made from pressed and fermented apples and was once this country’s most popular alcoholic beverage, he tells me. Think apple trees and Prohibition.

Splitladder Syder. Love that name.

Surprisingly, Tim’s 6.5 percent alcohol content Splitladder Syder, tastes nothing like apples, but similar to a dry white wine. He was the first in Minnesota to produce the hard cider for sale, he says.

While I didn’t buy any hard cider, I would recommend it as a fine accompaniment to cheese.

I would also recommend pulling off highway 60 between Mankato and Lake Crystal to check out Welsh Heritage Farms and Harbo Cider Winery and Cheese Shop. You might want to watch for an APPLES sign, though, as the season transitions from Missouri peaches to Minnesota apples.

The entry to Welsh Heritage Farms Apple Orchard & Pie Shop.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating words and art in Paul Bunyan land August 19, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:39 AM
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Paul Bunyan's sweetheart, Lucette Diana Kensack

I’VE BEEN INVITED to Hackensack, home of Paul Bunyan’s sweetheart. Lucette Diana Kensack lives (or technically, stands) along the shores of Birch Lake next to a quaint 1930s log cabin that is the Hackensack Lending Library.

The lakeside of the Hackensack Lending Library. To the left stands Lucette.

Just down the road along First Street sits a sweet, pink fairy tale cottage.

Unfortunately, I’m not traveling to Hackensack, which lies midway between Brainerd and Bemidji and marks the half-way point on The Paul Bunyan Trail. I was just in Hackensack last summer and another trip that far north is not on the schedule. But if it was, I tell you, I would want to stay at that Hansel and Gretel cottage. (I don’t care that it’s a private home.)

I discovered the fairy tale cottage while visiting Hackensack last summer.

Instead, I’ll be back here in southern Minnesota awaiting results of a poetry competition. You see, some time ago I submitted two poems for possible display at The Northwoods Art Festival and Book Fair in Hackensack from 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. on Saturday, August 28.

Recently I learned that both my poems were selected for display and are vying, like all the chosen poems, for “Works of Merit” designation by long-time Brainerd poet Doris Stengel. The visiting public will also vote for their six favorites as “Popular Choice” award winners. As far as I know, no cash prizes are made. Rather the prize lies in peer and/or public recognition.

I would love to tell you which of the untagged poems are mine. But since I don’t want to be accused of voter fraud, illegal lobbying or some other such poetic “crime,” I have sworn myself to secrecy. I’m quite certain that revelation of my poems’ titles could lead to disqualification.

That disclaimer aside, if you’re in the Hackensack area on August 28, check out the arts festival and specifically the poetry display at the Union Congregational Church. Minnesota writers and illustrators will be at the church signing and selling their books. At 1:30 p.m., the award winners will be announced and display poets can read their poems.

But there’s more to this fest than the written word. You also will find artists who work in paint, clay, metal, wood, fiber and photography. Throw in food and music and you have a genuine Paul Bunyan-worthy Minnesota festival.

Come to think of it, perhaps I should have penned a poem about Paul Bunyan.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A closer look at whooping cough, including my story August 17, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:19 AM
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FIVE YEARS AGO, I earned the distinction of becoming my physician’s first adult whooping cough patient in his 30-plus year career.

I still remember that day when I perched on the examining table, so exhausted from my coughing fits and a subsequent lack of sleep that I could barely function. Five weeks earlier my doctor had diagnosed bronchitis. When I wasn’t getting any better, I returned and he gave me the same diagnosis. But now, on this third visit with my condition steadily deteriorating, I wanted answers.

Then I coughed.

For my doctor, that was a profound moment. He didn’t even hesitate. “I think you have whooping cough,” he blurted, then soon left the room to consult with another physician.

I don’t recall exactly how I responded, but I remember thinking that whooping cough couldn’t possibly exist in 2005.

How very wrong I was about that assumption. Today, five years after I struggled with this debilitating illness that invaded my lungs and throat, causing persistent coughing fits, a severe sore throat, asthmatic type attacks and a resulting inability to sleep, the disease continues to infect, and even kill.

California, if trends continue, is expecting more pertussis (whooping cough) cases in 2010 than it’s seen in 50-plus years, according to the California Department of Public Health. As of August 10, those numbers stood at 2,774 reported cases, including seven deaths among infants. The cases represent a seven-fold increase from the 395 reported during the same period in 2009.

Naturally, I wondered how Minnesota compares. According to statistics from the Minnesota Department of Health, as of July 16, there had been 395 cases reported. The report notes that the state is near the end of an outbreak that began in 2008.

In my home county, Rice, three cases of the disease have been recorded in 2010. The majority of infections are, as I would expect, in the more heavily-populated counties of Hennepin (75 cases), Wright (60), Dakota (52) and Ramsey (40).

But statistics really don’t matter if you’re the one with whooping cough. I remember the follow-up phone call from my physician who delivered the news that pertussis is known as “the 100-day cough.” He wasn’t kidding.

And he wasn’t kidding that he really couldn’t do anything for me. The disease would have to run its course—for me from early July until after Labor Day—and my body would need to heal on its own. Antibiotics help only early on in either preventing whooping cough or diminishing the severity of a case. The pertussis bacteria die off naturally after three weeks of coughing.

My entire family received a regiment of antibiotics with my husband and my second daughter both developing whooping cough, albeit much milder than mine.

Whooping cough, I can undeniably tell you, should be taken seriously. If you are an adult, or a teen, and haven’t been vaccinated since childhood, listen up. By age 10 or 12, you are no longer protected by that childhood vaccine. I was 48 years old when I developed pertussis. I’ll never know how I contracted the disease, but it’s highly-contagious. Infants are especially vulnerable.

Ironically, in the same year I became ill, new vaccines for adolescents and adults were approved. With widespread immunization, pertussis can become an illness of the past.

Within my own family, whooping cough claimed the life of my Aunt Deloris. On May 10, 1935, Deloris Edna Emilie Bode, second-born daughter of Lawrence and Josephine, died of pertussis, pneumonia and a gangrene-type infection of the mouth at the age of nine months and nine days.

Whenever I think of Deloris, I nearly weep at the thought of that beautiful baby girl wracked with uncontrollable coughing fits, struggling to breathe, fighting to live. I will feel forever linked to her by whooping cough, the 100-day cough, and today a preventable disease.

(The national Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has designated August as National Immunization Awareness Month.)

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Minnesota heat wave, Argentine polar wave…what’s with this crazy weather? August 12, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:19 AM
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WHEN MY DAUGHTER e-mailed recently from Argentina complaining about the cold weather, I wasn’t too sympathetic. It’s winter there. What does she expect?

Plus, I’d welcome a blast of chilly air right now to ice down this interminable, steamy hot summer we’ve had in Minnesota.

But then I started thinking, as I’m apt to do, and sent her a list of questions, as I’m apt to do. Fortunately, my second-born indulged my curiosity and replied with an informational e-mail about South America’s recent “polar wave.”

Even that phrase, “polar wave,” makes me smugly smirk as I think of “Arctic air” and “Alberta clippers” in Minnesota. What do these South Americans know about frigid temperatures anyway? Have they ever endured temps or windchills in the double digits below zero like us hardy northerners?

Once I overcame my oversized Paul Bunyan attitude of superiority, I attempted to objectively consider my daughter’s southern weather report.

She wrote: “The polar wave, or La Ola Polar, supposedly is cold air that comes up from Antarctica. It may last for a few days or a whole week, it depends. I think they start calling it a polar wave when it’s around 0 degrees Celsius or lower (32 degrees F). People usually just put on heavier jackets. Gloves and scarves are common, too. You won’t see a large amount of people with hats, though.”

OK, no stocking caps, no ear flaps, no wool coats or parkas or winter boots. And, for gosh sakes, don’t those Argentines know that your fingers will stay warmer if you wear mittens instead of gloves?

Then, surprise, surprise, “some places in Argentina even got snow,” my 22-year-old daughter continues. “For my friend Sam in Tucuman, it was his first time seeing snow! An article in the Clarin (Buenos Aires daily newspaper) from August 4 said that on August 3, it got to  -7.1 degrees C (around 19-20 degrees F), with a windchill of -11.5 C (about 11 F) in San Antonio Oeste in the Río Negro province, and that was the lowest temp recorded for the day. Another Clarin article said that on Aug. 4 the coldest place in the country was in Río Mayo in the Chubut province, where it got to -25 C (-13F). This was the coldest temperature recorded in the past 5 years. In the Mendoza province, they had to suspend classes in 23 schools b/c the pipes froze.”

About then I realized that maybe this polar wave isn’t all that humorous. Likely, these South Americans don’t have the heating systems or insulated homes to deal with such unexpected frigid air. And, certainly, they don’t have the seasoned, inbred knowledge we Midwesterners have for comfortably surviving harsh winters.

After a bit of online research, I discovered that this recent cold weather has claimed many lives—in Bolivia, 18; Paraguay, 10; and Argentina, eight (in a single weekend), according to a July 20 CNN World report.

Thankfully, weather conditions are improving in South America, including Buenos Aires where my daughter lives. “After a week in the 35-40 degree range, it’s now around 55-60 degrees,” she tells me.

The warmer weather arrives in Argentina just in time for the arrival of her older sister today from Minneapolis.

I’ll be curious to hear: Which does she prefer, Minnesota heat wave or Argentine polar wave?

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Minnesota or Arkansas, heat or mosquitoes… August 11, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:47 AM
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WHEN MY UNCLE BOB proclaimed last week that he had just gotten his first mosquito bite in 15 years, I nearly flipped over in my lawn chair.

But I quickly rebounded. “Well, then,” I suggested, looking him squarely in the eye, “why don’t you take a whole van load back to Arkansas.”

He declined my offer while my Aunt Rae disputed his 15-year claim. Despite the differing opinions, I surmised that mosquitoes apparently aren’t all that common in northern Arkansas where my relatives retired to from Minneapolis 15 years ago.

But I’ve heard about the unbearable, muggy, oppressive heat down there, similar to what we’ve experienced in Minnesota this summer.

However, on the day my aunt and uncle visited my Faribault home last week, the weather was picture perfect after a string of unbearable, muggy, oppressive days. As we sat on the patio visiting, Bob remarked how nice it was to sit outside in the cool evening air.

I, too, was enjoying the respite from the heat and humidity, and from being cooped up inside in the air conditioning.

As dusk approached, my relatives announced that they should leave for their daughter’s Minneapolis home, their day’s final destination.

“Come down and visit us sometime,” Aunt Rae invited, as she does every time I see her and Uncle Bob.

I was non-committal. I’ve already had enough of the heat and humidity, I thought to myself. But that mosquito-free environment did tempt me, for just a second.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The anatomy of an Allis-Chalmers auction on a Minnesota farm August 6, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:11 AM
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THEY CAME…

the young

and the older

to Allis-Chalmers collector Carl Krueger’s farm

where he sold his beloved truck

and his cherished Allis-Chalmers tractors

to the highest bidders.

The collectible Allis-Chalmers tractors

even the Wallis

and the Allis-Chalmers tractor manual sold.

But the neighbor’s rare 1964 Schafer failed to get a high enough bid.

Auction attendees fueled up on bars from the Lutherans

clasped steering wheels

at the auction on a Minnesota farm field on an August afternoon.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

(See my August 2 post for additional photos from Carl Krueger’s Allis-Chalmers auction.)

 

Frogs cast an enchanting spell in my sister’s Minnesota garden August 5, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:56 AM
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One of the many frogs tucked among the flowers and plants in my sister's yard.

MY SISTER LANAE really doesn’t need a frog. She found and married her prince nine years ago.

Yet, she’s fallen hard for a bunch of frogs (technically an army of frogs) and a few toads. They’ve invaded her yard, taken over fountains and flower beds, bird baths and blossoms, and she’s welcomed them.

They’re all part of her plan, her grand plan to cast an envious spell (in my opinion) upon all who enter the enchanting world that is her backyard.

Now, you may think I’m exaggerating, playing this up, maybe even waving my own magical wand over you. But I’m not. My sister, the floral designer, has subtly tucked some 20 frogs and toads and other sweet little surprises into her gardens.

I marvel at her attention to detail, her designs, her intriguing way of naturally melding collectibles with the plants and flowers she has carefully selected, blended, nurtured. Her creations beckon visitors to pause, to really look, to delight in her artistry, for she is every bit an artist. Her yard is her canvas for the beautiful floral scenes she paints.

Last Sunday, during the Waseca Garden Club Garden Walk, folks noticed what I’ve known about my sister for decades. She colors outside the lines. She dares to make horses pink, cows purple. She is a strong, opinionated, determined, talented woman.

As I photographed Lanae’s vignettes, I eavesdropped, heard the praise, the ooohing and the aaahing, the exclaiming over her creations.

She deserves the gushing words—every single kudo, every single utterance of praise, every compliment—for she gardens with passion, with a love for the earth, with a heart for creating that which is absolutely, undeniably, beautiful.

Lanae created a lovely memory garden in honor of her friend, Vicki Andrejewski, who died in September 2009. Vicki's purple bird bath centers the garden, planted in her favorite colors of lime green and purple.

This gem-covered bowling ball drew the attention of visitors. Lanae applied "gems" to the recycled bowling ball using E6000 glue. The shimmering ball rests in Vicki's bird bath.

A bird bath accents a cluster of sedum. To the right, in the back, Lanae has rooted plants inside a birdcage-style terrarium.

Look closely and you'll discover a tiny frog tucked inside this birdcage terrarium.

I saw a boy grab these squishy frogs from a bird bath and then playfully toss them back into the water.

Using chicken wire and wood, Lanae created a wall garden. She planted hen 'n chicks, creeping Jenny, Mezoo trailing red Dorotheanthus, two types of sedum and two types of thyme and leaned the box against a tree.

A sizable toad lounges under a shade tree next to a Firecracker begonia.

Fairy tale mushrooms brighten foliage in a shady garden spot.

A dreamy blue ball set upon a pedestal accents a bed of blue salvia.

A colorful frog perches, almost naturally, in a gurgling fountain.

Lanae's yard was picture perfect for the garden tour, right down to the summery place setting on her patio table.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Guys and their tractors, at an Allis-Chalmers auction August 2, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:51 AM
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Bidding proceeds on the 50-plus Allis-Chalmers tractors at the auction.

WHEN MY HUSBAND SUGGESTED Saturday morning that we take in a large Allis-Chalmers auction at North Morristown, I balked.

Why would I want to stand in the middle of a field on a hot and humid summer day and watch an auctioneer sell old tractors and other farm equipment?

“It’s blog material,” Randy said.

He got me there and he knew it, so Saturday afternoon I relented and tagged along, camera bag in tow.

Maring Auction Company ran the auction on Carl Krueger's farm.

The auction had already been going 4 ½ hours when we arrived at collector Carl Krueger’s farm next to Trinity Lutheran Church and School, which is North Morristown. Randy parked our car among the rows and rows of pick-up trucks that stretched across the trampled alfalfa field. Up and over, on the other side of the hill, people swarmed like ants around the auctioneer’s truck and around the orange tractors and other farm equipment spread out in orderly rows.

This steel wheeled tractor immediately grabbed my attention upon arrival at the auction

A close-up of that steel wheeled tractor in a long line of tractors.

Immediately, I saw the potential and soon parted ways with Randy, who was primarily interested in the tractors while I was primarily interested in the crowd. I had already spotted several photogenic characters. Not that I ignored the pumpkin orange tractors; they, too, offered ample photo ops.

But the bidders, the curious, intrigued me the most, mostly because many sported bright orange attire. If I had been on a highway, I would have thought we were in a construction zone.

I quickly determined that these Allis-Chalmers folks are pretty devoted to their brand. Otherwise, why would you willingly choose to dress like this? I’m no fashionista, but even I would need to think twice before donning bib overalls, a bright orange shirt and an equally bright cap. I saw plenty of all three at the auction.

The dress code of the day: Allis-Chalmers orange.

"The Allis-Chalmers Kid," Carl Krueger, left, watched as his tractors were sold at Saturday's auction.

Clearly, these folks love and respect old tractors, and I appreciate that. As I watched, men (the crowd was overwhelmingly male) settled onto the seats of Allis tractors, clasped their hands upon the steering wheels and drove away in their imaginations. Palms caressed tractor metal. Butts connected with tractor tires, offering a temporary resting place in the heat of the afternoon.

Three men rest on three tires on three Allis-Chalmers around 3 o'clock.

Many a potential buyer, or simply an Allis-Chalmers devotee, settled onto a tractor seat.

Leaning on, touching, climbing--all were important in evaluating Allis-Chalmers tractors at the auction.

Randy was right. I had found sufficient blog material here on this hillside farm field on an August afternoon. But after 1 ½ hours of pursuing photos, I needed a break.

“Is my face all red?” I asked, knowing the answer before the words even tipped my tongue. When I get overheated, my face turns beet red. I sought out the shade of a pole shed, where volunteers from Trinity school were selling beverages, sandwiches, bars and other food. I dipped my hand into a beverage-cooling cattle tank and swiped refreshing water across my flushed skin. Since I didn’t have any money with me for bottled water or pop, I was tempted to slurp a handful of water too. But I figured that wouldn’t be appropriate although no one probably would have cared. I talked to a few people, snapped several images and aimed back toward the field to find my misplaced husband. He was still ogling the tractors.

A long orange line of Allis-Chalmers tractors awaited bidders.

“My dad had one like that,” he said, pointing to the 1950s Allis Chalmers WD, just one in the long orange line. Oops, that’s John Deere’s tag—the line, the long green line. I met a guy who dared to wear his John Deere t-shirt here in this oasis of orange. His girlfriend has an Allis-Chalmers, he explained, as if justifying his attire, even his presence.

I wanted to tell him: “I don’t think it really matters. I’m here. I’m not wearing orange and, uh, we don’t own a pick-up truck.”

Pick-up trucks lined the alfalfa field at the auction site.

WATCH FOR ADDITIONAL auction photos later this week on Minnesota Prairie Roots.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Making memories at a Minnesota family reunion with red Jell-O and, um, underwear July 28, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:41 AM
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UNDERWEAR AND CHEWING GUM, packets of Jell-O and Kool-Aid, a jar of pickles and even a bag of flour—all were part of the annual Kletscher family reunion held last weekend in Vesta.

First a little background. Vesta, a town of about 300, lies in Redwood County in southwestern Minnesota along State Highway 19 between Redwood Falls and Marshall. Every July descendants of Henry and Ida Kletscher, my grandparents, gather at the park in our ancestral hometown. I didn’t take a head count, but I estimate that 150 relatives attended this year’s reunion.

This shows a small section of the Kletscher family gathered for a trivia contest at the annual reunion in Vesta.

But back to that underwear and the other listed items. As a co-coordinator of this year’s reunion, I organized a family trivia contest complete with give-aways. To win prizes, audience members had to quickly shout out answers.

Now, I’m certain you’re wondering what I could have asked that prompted me to offer underwear as a prize. Well, here’s the question: “At family gatherings, the girl cousins played Chinese jump rope, which was made from what material?” The answer: recycled underwear elastic. Yes, because we were poor, we had to be resourceful. Rather than buy an elastic Chinese jump rope, we improvised by cutting elastic from worn-out undergarments and tying the pieces together.

I’m quite certain my niece Tara wishes she hadn’t been the first to respond to that Chinese jump rope question. She appeared shocked, maybe horrified is a better description, when I pulled out over-sized striped underwear and then tossed the panties her way. Later I would discover that she left her panty prize behind (on purpose, I’m sure). Big mistake. Big, big mistake.

Here’s another trivia question: “What was a popular food prize awarded to winners of Kletscher bridal shower games? This food was also served at family birthday gatherings.” As any good Minnesotan knows, that would be Jell-O, specifically red Jell-O. Naturally, I tossed out boxes of strawberry gelatin.

Then, the question that generated the most interest from the young girls: “Who made gum wrapper chains and strung them in her bedroom?” That would be my cousin Diane who carefully crafted discarded gum wrappers into chains. And, here’s the incredible part. Diane still had one of those decades-old chains and, per my request, brought it to the reunion. This intrigued the preteens and teens. And, as you would expect, I gave away packages of gum.

Aunt Iylene shows off the gum wrapper chain made by my cousin Diane decades ago.

Trivia contest winners, Diane, my mom and my niece Tara, pose with their "medals." The trio also received Smarties candy for being so smart. The losing teams received Dum Dum suckers.

So our reunion went…beginning with several families attending the Laura Ingalls Wilder pageant, “Fragments of a Dream,” in Walnut Grove on Friday evening. (Read my July 27 post on the memorable ride home. My cousin Ronda’s daughter Emily wrote a song, “The Unforgettable Storm,” performed on Sunday.)

Saturday evening we gathered at the Vesta Park for a campfire, wine tasting, singing, a texting competition, an outdoor movie and old-fashioned games like gunny sack and three-legged races. I laughed until my stomach hurt and then laughed some more.

Sunday brought the usual potluck followed by an afternoon of activities. Typically we eat and just sit and visit. But in an attempt to generate enthusiasm and more interest in the reunion, especially among the younger generation, we added planned events.

We themed this year’s reunion to the celebration of my cousin Jeff’s 20th wedding anniversary. Unfortunately his wife, Janet, could not attend as she was working, or so Jeff told us. More likely, Janet did not attend because she is not real. Twenty years ago Jeff pulled off an April Fool’s Day prank by announcing a marriage that was totally fraudulent/made-up/imaginary. Jeff, good sport bachelor that he is, allowed us to celebrate his “anniversary” in style. I’m not sure he expected a garter and bouquet toss, anniversary cake, crepe paper and bells, and a pile of gifts.

My husband and I and a handful of young girls decorated the park shelter and a screened tent with bells and crepe paper in honor of Jeff and Janet's 20th wedding anniversary.

My cousin Dawn, with the help of daughter Megan, made two beautiful anniversary cakes for her brother. My Uncle Wally and Aunt Janice made and decorated the less attractive cake with the beanie baby bridal bears.

Other afternoon events included a rock-paper-scissors tournament, a cupcake walk, a scavenger hunt, a memory game, and bean bag toss.

Oh, and I can’t forget the bridesmaid dress judging. Family members hauled their dresses to the reunion, where the garments were hung on a rope strung between two trees.

Family members selected their favorite and least favorite bridesmaid dresses that were hung between the trees.

The black-and-white dress was voted as the prettiest. The green one next to it is from my May 1982 wedding.

Relatives voted for the “prettiest” and the “ugliest.” Pre-teens, teens and my oldest daughter then modeled several dresses—fabric falling from their shoulders and dragging in the grass—before we crowned the winners with a beautiful tiara and a gaudy, flower-bedecked cap.

Later my cousin Terri would share that she felt vindicated as the bridesmaid dress worn in her wedding was voted the “prettiest.” (She claims to have gotten the “young” vote.) When she was married in 1989, Terri’s sisters teased her about the black-and-white bridesmaids’ dresses, saying they made them look like (Holstein) cows. Terri, now a model, actress and co-host of a public television show, Nature Adventures (airing soon in Minnesota), proved even back then that she had style. So there, sisters of hers.

Now, as I reflect on this weekend gathering with my mom, siblings, nieces, nephew, cousins, aunts and uncles and other family members, I have such good memories. I hear the laughter, the engaging conversations, our voices united in song. I feel the hugs, see the smiles. Bonds have been strengthened, new memories made, old ones rekindled. For me, that makes the hours and hours and hours of planning and hard work during the past year worth my time and energy.

I love my family and I would do this again for them in a heartbeat (just give me a few years to recover).

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Photos by my daughter Amber (because I had absolutely no time to shoot photos).

 

Riding out severe weather in this Minnesota summer of storms July 27, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:26 AM
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WITH SEVERE WEATHER once again in the forecast for Minnesota today, I am nervous, and understandably so in this summer of storms.

Between 11 p.m. and midnight Friday, my family was stranded in our car along Redwood County Road 5 north of Walnut Grove during a 45-minute torrential downpour that packed 70 mph winds.

I’ve never been more terrified in my life.

As the wind buffeted and rocked our car in the pitch black darkness of the country, as rain poured, as lightning flashed, I prayed, head pressed for awhile against the back of the driver’s seat where I was seated behind my husband. My 78-year-old mom sat in the front passenger seat and my 16-year-old son was next to me in the back.

At one point I grabbed my son’s hand and squeezed so tightly that he asked me to let go. Later he would slide his hand across the seat and grasp mine in his.

The evening started out pleasantly enough with the drive from Vesta, where I grew up and where my mom still lives, to Walnut Grove some 20 miles away. We were going to the Laura Ingalls Wilder pageant, Fragments of a Dream, presented in an outdoor amphitheater just west of this small town.

Throughout the performance, which began at 9 p.m., I kept a watchful eye on the sky, where clouds were building to the west. My cousin Randy, a trained weather spotter and seated behind me, made the mistake of informing us that the area was under a tornado watch until 4 a.m. That information instantly raised my anxiety radar.

Yet, the show continued as lightning flashed all around us, as rain fell hard enough (for a short while) for audience members to pull out umbrellas and rain gear. I kept thinking they would call the show soon and send us safely on our way. That never happened, although in retrospect it should have. My brother Brian would later tell me he watched the storm cell move into the area on television weather radar.

Around 11 p.m., we exited the pageant grounds and just as we entered Walnut Grove minutes later, the sheets of rain began to fall. My husband drove across State Highway 14 where a police car sat, lights flashing, as is typical for post production. On the other side of the highway, still in town, Randy pulled over, remarking that maybe he shouldn’t park under a tree.

I thought we would stay there until the storm passed. But then, before I could suggest we do so, Randy took off and our nightmare began. On an unfamiliar road marked only by center tabs on the recently sealcoated gravel surface, he blindly (in my opinion) attempted to direct the car north toward Vesta.

Soon enough, after I reminded him that he was responsible for three other lives, not just his own, he pulled partially off the road onto the shoulder. Ahead of us, we could see other vehicles parked too, their emergency lights flashing.

And then, only then, did I realize the gravity of our situation. We were in the midst of a severe storm packing fierce winds with nowhere to go. Winds estimated at 70 mph slammed against the car, flattened the roadside grasses and I’m pretty sure ravaged trees, although I couldn’t see them. As our vehicle rocked, I feared it would flip. I feared also that a tornado would drop from the skies. When the lightning flashed, I could see dark, ominous swirling clouds. The wind changed direction from west to northeast.

Several times I wished out loud that we could seek out the safety of a farmhouse. But how could we even see to find a farm driveway? My mom, in her ignorance or fear, repeatedly told me the car was the safest place we could be. I repeatedly told her that, no, a basement would be the safest place we could be.

To their credit, the rest of my immediate family members did not panic, although they would later admit that they, too, were scared. My aunt Iylene and cousin Janelle, who were caught on the same road during the storm, later shared that they were as terrified as me and especially concerned because six of them were inside a higher profile, wind-catching pick-up that was topped with a canoe.

When the rain would relent enough for us to see somewhat, my husband would drive a short distance. Probably four our five times he drove then pulled over. Drove then pulled over. We kept thinking this could not last forever. But it did.

With a non-functioning radio and the cell phone inside my purse in the car trunk (which didn’t matter since I typically cannot get reception in this area of Minnesota), we were uninformed, at the mercy of the elements and of our imaginations (or at least mine).

Had I been thinking rationally, I would have grabbed my camera and photographed the spectacular lightning show that lit up the entire prairie sky and sent an occasional bolt zig zagging to the ground. But I was not thinking clearly. Instead, I was focused on that wind, that fierce, fierce wind that just kept rocking our car in that nightmare of a night in the middle of the prairie.

When we finally arrived at my mom’s house an hour later, I could have kissed the ground of my hometown. I have never in my life been happier to see Vesta.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling