Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

The Weekly Phone Call May 11, 2023

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My sweet mom, featured on the Parkview Facebook page, Mother’s Day 2020. (Photo credit: Parkview Senior Living)

IN EVERYTHING I WRITE, truth rests. In creative nonfiction, more than any other genre, truth writes the story. In poetry and fiction, life experiences, observations and emotions weave into poems and stories. Not necessarily the full truth, but based on reality. The adage “write what you know” rings true for me.

In 2017, I wrote a short story, “The Weekly Phone Call,” and entered it in the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc annual competition. That work of creative nonfiction along with two poems, two fictional short stories and another piece of creative nonfiction were chosen for publication in Fine Lines, The Talking Stick Volume 26. It marked my most successful year with TS, an annual anthology featuring work by Minnesota writers or those with a connection to Minnesota.

Five of my works (poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction) published in Fine Lines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

The book title, Fine Lines fits my selected entry, a story about the Sunday evening phone calls I made to my mom. Every. Week. I looked forward to them, as did Mom. My short story is one of raw emotions, of grief and pain. And today, days before Mother’s Day, seems an appropriate time to share this piece of my writing.

I hope it sparks an understanding that simple connections linking us to those we love are to be valued. When Mom could no longer hold or talk on a phone in the years before her January 2022 death, I felt a deep loss. I missed her voice. I missed her stories. I missed sharing my life with her. And today, I miss her, as I try to recall her voice, the words she spoke, yet always remembering the love we shared.

Parkview Senior Living in Belview, where my mom lived for many years. While 120 miles separated us, Mom and I remained connected via our weekly calls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The Weekly Phone Call

It’s 6:30 p.m. on Sunday when I punch the green phone icon.

“Hello, Arlene speaking,” she answers, the indiscernible dialogue of a television blaring in the background.

“Hi, this is Audrey,” I say, then wait while she turns off her TV. “How are you doing?”

Her answer never deviates. She is tired and blames the weather. Already sadness threads through my thoughts. Inside the sheltered walls of a care center, she can’t feel the bite of a winter prairie wind, the drench of rainfall, the smothering humidity of a July afternoon. She feels only artificial heat and cold while sequestered in her over-sized dorm style room.

My mind drifts as Mom laments an in-house obsession with BINGO, recounts an escape attempt by a friend—big and exciting news—and complains of failed jets in the whirlpool tub. I listen, insert appropriate responses, and await the usual repetition of information.

When she repeats herself, I say nothing. There is no point. My love prevails in silence. But inside, my anger rises at her declining memory. I want the mom who never forgot a birthday, who remembered what she ate for lunch, who knew names. I miss her undeniably kind and positive spirit. I am grieving.

But I tell her none of this. Instead, I end our conversation with “I love you” and a promise to call her next Sunday, at 6:30 p.m.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Original 2017 publication credit: Fine Lines, The Talking Stick Volume 26

 

The greening of spring in southern Minnesota May 9, 2023

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Buds begin to open on my backyard maple. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

AS A WRITER AND PHOTOGRAPHER, I view the natural world through a creative lens. I appreciate the nuances that comprise the whole. And right now those details are sharp, vivid and nearly visually overwhelming (in a good way) after living for too many months in a monochromatic environment.

The maple flush in unfurling leaves. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

I need only step into my yard to take in the greening of spring. Buds forming and then unfurling on the maple.

Bleeding hearts dangle, preparing to open. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Clumped, clamped buds about to open into fuchsia bleeding hearts.

A tightly-clasped fiddlehead. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Curled fiddleheads stretching, soon to unfold into fronds of ferns that wave in the wind.

My tulips are in full bloom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Within the perimeters of my property, spring bursts in new growth. Tiny green buds line the thick wood stalks of old-fashioned hydrangea that will soon fill the spaces flanking my front steps. Red and yellow tulips jolt color into flowerbeds, among a jumbo of irises that will eventually blossom in yellow and purple, their sweet scent a reminder of my mother. Iris was her favorite flower.

Tiger lilies grow wild on my backyard hillside, here emerging from winter dormancy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Oh, how I love these early days of May. These days when everything appears lush and intensely green. Spring green. Vibrant. It’s as if every bright green in a box of Crayola crayons colors the landscape. And when the sky is intensely blue, the greens seem even more intense.

Even my rake is green. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

These are the days when dandelions pop and grass seemingly grows as you watch. These are the days, too, of raking away the leaf remnants of last fall and cutting back dead flower stems and mentally transitioning into this season we’ve been awaiting since the first snow fell.

My neighbor’s unidentified flowers grow just around the corner of my fence, jolting color into the landscape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

It was an undeniably long winter in Minnesota with near-record snowfall, with teases of spring (even summer) before snow fell again. We are now only finally beginning to believe that we can put away the snow shovels, shove the snowblowers into the corners of our garages, banish winter coats to the back of the closet.

The wooded hillside behind my garage and house is just beginning to fill in with green. We own the open part of this hillside. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

Every day of warm temps and blue skies and new greens convinces me that this is for real. Spring has finally arrived in southern Minnesota in her poetically beautiful way. I hear it in birdsong, in the piercing whistle of a cardinal flashing red in the wooded hillside behind my house. I hear it in the rhythmic raking of dried leaves. I hear it in the roar of motorcycles flying down my street.

A raspberry vine shadows across the limestone wall Randy built many years ago from the foundation of a fallen barn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

But mostly I see the shift of seasons in the greening of spring, of trees no longer bare, but spreading in a canopy of green. Of wild raspberries stretching across limestone wall to latch into the earth. Of hostas erupting.

My neighbor’s lovely low-lying flowers, up close. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

This marks a time of renewal, of hope, of emerging from the cocooning quiet and oppressiveness of winter into a world that feels, looks, sounds utterly and joyfully alive.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Raining purple as Minnesota honors Prince May 5, 2023

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A mural and street signs honor Prince at Prince Garden in Henderson. This pocket park is no longer in Henderson. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)

IF RAIN FELL IN COLOR, the hue would be purple here in Minnesota. Not just for the Minnesota Vikings, but also for beloved homegrown musician Prince of “Purple Rain” fame.

Now road signs bearing Prince’s name will sport his signature color, purple. Thursday the State Senate approved a bill renaming a seven-mile stretch of State Highway 5 as Prince Rogers Nelson Memorial Highway. The House last month approved the same. The roadway runs past Paisley Park, Prince’s home and recording studio in Chanhassen, now open for public tours, concerts and more. Paisley Park is a museum of sorts following Prince’s untimely death from an opioid overdose in April 2016.

Dana Hanson, former Faribault resident, used a stencil to incorporate musical notes in to this painting of Prince. Notice the detail of the heart-shaped mole on the musician’s cheek. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

While I’m admittedly not a Prince fan (I’ve not listened to his music), I respect that he is an accomplished singer, songwriter and performer with a worldwide fan base. With seven Grammy Awards, an Academy Award, music videos, and song releases too numerous to count, Prince certainly succeeded in his profession. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004 and into the Minnesota Music Hall of Fame in 2007.

Up close with Prince, in bronze. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)

Ah, the Minnesota Music Hall of Fame. That’s not nearly as familiar to most Minnesotans as Paisley Park. But for Prince lovers, it likely will become a new pilgrimage destination. Located in New Ulm in southern Minnesota, the Hall of Fame now features a bronze statue of Prince, a memorial bench, street signs and more moved from Henderson.

The Prince Garden previously in Henderson. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)

In August 2020, I photographed the outdoor Prince shrine in Henderson, location of a scene in “Purple Rain” along the nearby Minnesota River. I was surprised to learn that the Prince Garden items are now in New Ulm. Apparently there were a few issues in Henderson.

This bronze statue of Prince is now at the Minnesota Music Hall of Fame in New Ulm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)

Also coming to the New Ulm location is a 15-foot tall sculpture of Prince’s guitar. It was part of the Mankato CityArt Walking Sculpture Tour, a temporary annual installation of outdoor art. Iowa artist Jefferson Davis created the piece from upcycled metal. The now-dissolved Prince Legacy Henderson Project purchased the guitar art via fundraising and a grant. The sculpture will be placed near the entrance to the Minnesota Music Hall of Fame. Located along an arterial street through New Ulm, the over-sized purple guitar is sure to draw attention.

The museum, the movie, the music, the musician. And now a stretch of roadway renamed Prince Rogers Nelson Memorial Highway. I’d say it’s raining purple in Minnesota.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Remembering Gordon Lightfoot & his ballad about the Edmund Fitzgerald May 3, 2023

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A photo of the Edmund Fitzgerald shown during a 2014 presentation in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

CERTAIN SONGS FROM MY TEEN years into my early 20s occasionally surface like ear worms in my mind. Today that tune is “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” a ballad by Canadian singer, songwriter and guitarist Gordon Lightfoot.

Taconite pellets, like these, filled the cargo holds of The Edmund Fitzgerald as it journeyed across Lake Superior on November 9 and 10, 1975. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

The 84-year-old musician died on Monday, leaving a legacy of storytelling that includes his version of the Edmund Fitzgerald’s fateful final journey. The iron ore carrier sank in Lake Superior on November 10, 1975, claiming the lives of 29 crewmen.

Newspaper clippings about The Fitz were passed around to audience members at a 2014 presentation in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

Stories about the catastrophic shipwreck during a storm with hurricane force winds, waves reaching 70 feet and a gale force warning bannered newspapers. It was especially big news here in Minnesota since the 729-foot long by 75-foot wide ship left Superior, Wisconsin, just across from the port city of Duluth. The Fitzgerald was weighted with 26,000 tons of taconite pellets and bound for a steel mill near Detroit, Michigan.

PBS did a documentary on the Edmund Fitzgerald. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

On the afternoon of November 9, the freighter left Superior. By 7:15 pm the next evening, the USS Edmund Fitzgerald disappeared, the wreckage later found 17 miles northwest of Whitefish Point, Michigan.

In Lightfoot’s words:

The captain wired in he had water comin’ in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Lightfoot on the cover of his 2002 CD, which my husband owns. “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” soared to #2 on the Pop chart and remained there for 21 weeks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

The lengthy folk song of 6.5 minutes unfolds in suspenseful storytelling style. Lightfoot takes his listeners on board the massive Edmund Fitzgerald caught in the stormy, churning waters of Gitche Gumee (Ojibwe for Lake Superior). The songwriter uses some artistic license in his version of the disaster as noted when comparing facts to lyrics. Yet, his haunting song, like reality, carries the truth of death, the heavy emotions of loss. Every time I hear Lightfoot’s song, I feel overcome with sadness, as if the powerful, roiling waves of Superior are rolling over me, pulling me down down down into the dark depths of the lake.

The Edmund Fitzgerald stretched more than two football fields long. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2014)

The emotional intensity of “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” remains strong for me, even decades after I first heard the new release in 1976. And that’s a credit to Lightfoot, who wrote history into a ballad that is poetically and tragically memorable.

TELL ME: Are you a fan of Gordon Lightfoot or any of his songs? I’d like to hear your thoughts on him, this ballad or musicians and/or songs particularly memorable to you.

FYI: Click here to read a post I wrote in 2014 about a presentation on the Edmund Fitzgerald at the Rice County Historical Society Museum in Faribault.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Gardening: Passing along my rural heritage & much more May 2, 2023

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Seeds for sale at Seed Savers Exchange, Decorah, Iowa. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2018)

SEVERAL DAYS AGO, my 4-year-old grandson excitedly shared that his broccoli was growing. His mom, my eldest, clarified. Sixteen broccoli seeds and one carrot seed had sprouted, popping through potting soil in three days. That surprised even me, who grew up in a gardening family with most of our food from farm to table, long before that became a thing.

Annuals that are easy to grow from seed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

A year ago, I gifted my grandchildren with several packets of seeds. Flowers only. Zinnias and bachelor buttons, easy-to-grow-from-seed annuals that blossom throughout the summer. Isaac and his mom planted the seeds in flower pots. And then watched seeds emerge into tender plants that grew and bloomed in a jolt of color.

Old-fashioned zinnias grown by my friend Al and sold at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2019)

That was enough for the preschooler to get the gardening bug. This year, in selecting seeds for Isaac and his older sister, I added vegetables to the mix of flowers. Spinach because I knew it would grow quickly and flourish in Minnesota’s still cool weather. And carrots, because Isaac wanted to plant them. Later, he told his mom he also wanted to plant broccoli because he likes broccoli. I’m not sure that’s true. But Amber bought broccoli seeds for her son, whom she’s dubbed Farmer Isaac.

“Summer in a Jar,” sold at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. This photo published in the book “The World of Laura Ingalls Wilder, The Frontier Landscapes that Inspired The Little House Books” by Marta McDowell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2015)

I can’t think of a better way to encourage kids to try vegetables. And to teach them about plants and that veggies don’t just come from the grocery store. With most families now a generation or two or three removed from the land, it’s more important than ever to initiate or maintain a connection rooted in the soil.

Several types of tomatoes grow in the garden outside Buckham Memorial Library, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Soil was the gardening starting point for my grandchildren. Once when they stayed overnight, I got out the gardening shovels and directed them toward a corner flowerbed and a patch of dirt. The dirt flew as they dug and uncovered earthworms and half a walnut shell and bugs. I didn’t care if their hands got dirty. I simply wanted them to have fun, to feel the cold, damp earth, to appreciate the soil beneath and between their fingers.

My great niece waters plants inside her family’s mini greenhouse. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2018)

I was a bit surprised when my eldest embraced gardening with her kids. But then again, she was the daughter who always watered flowers and observed that “the flowers are opening their mouths” (translation, “the tulips are blooming”) as a preschooler. I never had much of a garden due to lack of a sunny spot in my yard. But I usually grew tomatoes in pots and always had pots overflowing with flowers and flowers in beds. So Isaac and Isabelle’s mom did have a sort of gardening background.

Heirloom tomato at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2019)

As a farmer’s daughter and a grandma, passing along something like gardening is like passing along part of my rural heritage. My Grandma Ida always had a big garden, an essential with a family of 10 kids. She continued to garden throughout her life, long after her kids were gone and she moved to town. Likewise, my mom planted a massive garden to feed her six kids. My siblings and I helped with the gardening—pulling weeds, picking vegetables… And shelling peas. Of all the garden-related tasks, the rhythmic act of running my thumb along an open pod to pop pearls of peas into a pan proved particularly satisfying. Plus, I loved the taste of fresh peas from the garden. There’s nothing like it except perhaps the juicy goodness of a sun-ripened tomato or leaf lettuce or a just-pulled carrot with dirt clinging to the root.

My friend Al vends flowers and vegetables at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2019)

I don’t expect my grandchildren will garden like their great great grandma or great grandma. But that’s OK. They’ve been introduced to gardening. They see now how seeds sprout and develop into plants that yield beauty or food. Hopefully they will gain an appreciation for garden-fresh, whether fresh from the pots on their patio or deck, or from a farmers’ market.

Purple beans grow in the library garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Even though they live in a south metro suburb, my grandkids remain close to the land with farm fields within view, not yet replaced by massive housing developments. It’s important to me that Isabelle and Isaac always feel connected to their rural heritage, that they value the land, that they grow up to remember the feel of cold, damp dirt on their hands. That they understand their food is not sourced from grocery stores, but rather from the earth.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating 75 years of radio ministry at Trinity, Faribault April 27, 2023

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Signage indicating the Trinity service is airing. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

DURING THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC, when I wasn’t attending worship services at my church, Trinity Lutheran, Faribault, I switched on the radio. In the safety and shelter of my home, I listened to Sunday morning worship services broadcast on Faribault-based KDHL radio. I was grateful for the AM listening option. I could have watched live-streaming. But I preferred the less distracting radio delivery.

Vintage switches inside the Trinity Radio Club booth. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

Eventually, I returned to in-person worship. But today I’m back tuning the radio to 920 AM at 8 am Sunday because of a health issue that leaves me sensory sensitive and more. I can’t tolerate the sound of the organ or the multi-layered sensory input of being among people in a busy environment.

The original microphone used in 1948. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

That’s the backstory behind my personal appreciation of the Trinity Radio Club, which has broadcast church services for 75 years, first airing on April 25, 1948. That’s remarkable in longevity, in decades of sharing the Gospel initially via the air waves and then via live-streaming and other online platforms.

The early transmitter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

This weekend, April 29 and 30, the Trinity Radio Club celebrates its 75th anniversary during worship and during a special program between Sunday morning services. It’s important to commemorate and honor the work of long ago visionaries who embraced a radio ministry. They initially pledged $5/each toward the effort and also committed to paying 35 cents weekly to support the broadcasts. That doesn’t seem like much money today. But I expect it was a sacrifice in 1948, when the first broadcast cost $46.

The original coverage area for KDHL radio, which began broadcasting in 1948. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

Throughout its 75 years, the Trinity Radio Council (today the Trinity Radio Club) has remained strong in its mission of reaching people with the good news of salvation, whether locally or an ocean away. The club has continued to upgrade technology, to make improvements that assure uninterrupted transmission of services via radio and online. Unlike many churches during the COVID pandemic, Trinity was already up and running with a strong, safe and viable way of reaching and connecting with people outside the walls of the sanctuary.

Vintage radio room art centers on Christ. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

For awhile, Randy and I (mostly Randy) were part of the club’s mission. Once a month, sometimes more, Randy would take a DVD of the 8 am worship service to a local nursing home. Sometimes I accompanied him. He would lead part of the service and then play the sermon part of the recording for residents. Many of them slept through the entire thing. But, yet, when Randy led them in The Lord’s Prayer, they would join in. No memory issues. No sleepiness. Just a roomful of the faithful praying.

The operations tech hub inside the radio studio at Trinity in 2018. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

That word “faithful” seems appropriate to insert here. Generations have committed to maintaining and expanding the Trinity Radio Club ministry. That comes via financial support and volunteering. When our tech-savvy son was in high school, he volunteered. Every broadcast and streamed service requires people in the soundproof studio working the computer, the switches, all the tech stuff I don’t understand.

A view from the studio overlooking the sanctuary in 2018. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

But I understand one thing. I understand the importance of this ministry personally. When I can’t be in church, and there are others just like me, I can still be there.

Gratitude on the screen, Trinity sanctuary in the background. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)

I am grateful to those individuals who saw the need for a radio broadcast 75 years ago. I am grateful for the continuing expansion via technology. I am grateful for a congregation which financially and otherwise supports the Trinity Radio Club. I am grateful for listeners who also donate. It takes a joint effort, a team, dedication and hard work. And for the initial founders of the Trinity Radio Council, it took a vision based on faith to launch this ministry which has blessed so many, including me, during its 75-year history.

FYI: To learn more background on the Trinity Radio Club, click here to read a post I published in 2018 on the 70th anniversary of this ministry.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Randy is retiring after a long career as an automotive machinist April 26, 2023

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My husband at work in the Parts Department, Northfield, machine shop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2010)

NEARLY A YEAR AGO, RANDY received the devastating news that he would be losing his job of almost 39 years. Boom! Just like that, with no warning of the impending sale of Parts Department, Inc., Northfield, where he worked as the sole automotive machinist. He went to a store meeting one evening and came home with news that the business was sold and the new out-of-state owners were closing the busy and profitable machine shop. A life-long of hard work and dedication unappreciated. That event nearly broke us emotionally, mentally. Stress pressed upon us in those initial months of uncertainty. Randy was not yet full retirement age. How do you even begin to deal with job loss in your mid-sixties?

Here we are, a year later, in a much better place. It took awhile to get there. After marking his final day at NAPA on July 29, 2022, Randy was unemployed for nearly three months. It was a period of adjustment, a time of uncertainty, a time of waiting.

One of several truck loads of shop equipment moved from Northfield to rural Randolph in August 2022. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

SHOP RELOCATES TO RANDOLPH

Then, in mid-October, my husband started working as the automotive machinist at newly-opened Nate’s Machine Shop & Diesel Repair, rural Randolph. Nate bought the equipment from NAPA Northfield. A wise decision given so few people work as automotive machinists and there’s a high demand for the specialized, skilled service. There were a lot of really angry customers when the NAPA shop closed and Randy lost his job. That added to the stress. Randy has always been dedicated to taking care of his customers.

TIME TO RETIRE

He won’t be doing that much longer, though. He’s transitioning into retirement. And from 4-7 pm this Friday, April 28, Nate’s Garage will host a retirement party for Randy and a grand opening of the machine shop. Randy has been training an apprentice. It takes time, patience and effort to teach someone what you’ve been doing for 43 years. But the reality is that Randy doesn’t want to work forever, even if customers think he should. They will have to trust the new shop guy, Tyler.

Those three months without work caused something to shift inside Randy. He realized that life is about much more than work. And that is the good that came from losing his job. He’s full retirement age now, too, which makes the decision to ease out of his job easier. He no longer feels obligated to be there for his customers.

And it helps that he’s now leaving on his terms, in his time, rather than being shoved out the door.

Before and after cylinder head cleaning process. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

FIFTY YEARS IN THE PROFESSION

It’s time to be done with long work weeks of physically demanding labor that have taken a toll on his body. He’s been working full-time since graduating from the auto mechanics, auto parts and auto parts management programs at Brainerd Vocational Technical School in 1976. He started in auto parts, at a store in Rochester, eventually relocating to Faribault. There he learned automotive machining. After a short stint in Owatonna, Randy accepted a job with NAPA Northfield, growing a customer base that stretches across the country. He grew to become one of the best in his field in southern Minnesota.

If you do the math, that’s 47 years of working full-time in the automotive field, plus the time he worked while at Brainerd Vo-Tech. So let’s just round the number to 50.

I am incredibly proud of my talented and hardworking husband. He possesses a strong work ethic and is devoted to great customer service. He’s old school that way. I’ve witnessed him solve problems that others can’t. He’s really good at what he does and he deserves to be celebrated. And thanked.

The service door entry to the machine shop at Parts Department, Northfield. Randy really wanted that machine shop sign, given he worked there for nearly 40 years. He asked, but… (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)

CONGRATULATE RANDY

I welcome your presence at his retirement party (note, he won’t arrive until around 5 pm). I welcome your congratulatory messages in the comments section here. And I invite you to send him a congratulatory card the old-fashioned way, via snail mail. I want Randy to be recognized, honored, celebrated for 50 years of selfless service to others. He deserves the accolades. I want him to feel the gratitude, the love. He’s worked hard all of his life. And now it’s time for Randy to rest, to do what he wants, when he wants.

Randy’s NAPA automotive machine shop toolbox. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2010)

FYI: Nate’s Garage is located at 1471 310th Street Way, Cannon Falls. The shop is two miles south of Randolph along State Highway 56. Food and beverages will be provided by the R-Bar. The celebration is from 4-7 pm. Again, Randy won’t arrive until @ 5pm and I’ll be there if I’m feeling well enough to attend.

PLEASE CLICK HERE to read a previous post about Randy’s work as an automotive machinist, which is different from machining.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts following the funeral of slain Pope County, Minnesota, Deputy Josh Owen April 24, 2023

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Josh Owen with his canine partner. (Photo credit: Pope County Sheriff’s Department)

Let us go forth in peace.

Those final words from the Rev. Bryan Taffe, pastor of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Lowry in western Minnesota, concluded a Saturday morning funeral service for Pope County Deputy Josh Owen, shot and killed April 15 while responding to a call of domestic violence. Taffe’s message and final blessing comforted me as I watched TV coverage of the deputy’s funeral some 180 miles northwest of Faribault in Glenwood.

I didn’t know the law enforcement officer killed on his 44th birthday. But, collectively, as a state, we knew Josh. He was described by speakers as hardworking, a common sense individual, calm under pressure, a family man… The kind of guy you would want having your back, whether on the battlefields of Iraq or in rural Pope County, Minnesota.

“ALWAYS PICK JOSH”

Lt. Col. John Anderson of the Minnesota National Guard served as Josh’s platoon leader during a 22-month deployment, including 16 months in Iraq. He shared of his soldier’s selfless heroism. Anderson learned early on to “always pick Josh.” He could count on him to handle dangerous situations, including the rescue of a severely-injured soldier in what he described as “a killing zone.”

An emotional Pope County Chief Deputy Nathan Brecht echoed Anderson’s theme of relying on and trusting that Josh could handle anything. His physical bulk proved invaluable. Yet, he held a tender side, showing compassion to a suicidal man and encouragement to a young woman in the throes of drug addiction.

PERSONAL INSIGHTS

As I listened to Anderson, Brecht and his cousin by marriage, Josh Palmateer, a clear picture began to emerge of Josh Owen. For me that was important, to begin to understand the man behind the badge, the man behind the headlines. The husband of Shannon, father to 10-year-old Rylan, friend, co-worker, son, cousin…protector.

Josh had a distinct laugh, pulled pranks with his fellow soldiers, had an insatiable thirst for Mountain Dew, loved lifting weights, hated doing paperwork. His motto: “Don’t start sh*t you can’t finish.”

I embraced Chief Deputy Brecht’s poetically descriptive image. When he sees a crack of lightning and hears a roll of thunder, he will think of Josh. Campfires and fishing and drinking an IPA will also remind him of the guy he could count on.

LOVE & GRATITUDE

At times, I wondered if the grieving deputy would make it through his remembrances of Josh. But he did, and with an important message. He vowed to tell his co-workers that he appreciates and loves them. Brecht regrets not doing that with Josh. He thanked the community for its outpouring of support, sharing that “every act of kindness sustains us.” And he referenced one of my favorite bible verses, Romans 8:28: All things work together for good to those who love God… Admittedly, Brecht said finding the good in Josh’s tragic death is not easy. But he said he’s gotten to know the family better and understands the importance of expressing love, aloud, to others. Like Brecht, I firmly believe that something good comes in every challenge, although it can take awhile to see that. For me, the good has often emerged in empathy, compassion and, yes, reaching out with kindness.

More scripture was quoted at the funeral held in the Minnewaska Area High School gymnasium packed with mourners, including hundreds of law enforcement officers. Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. By the time Josh Palmateer quoted Joshua 1:9, I was not surprised. That is my Confirmation verse, words that embolden me to trust.

BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS

As the memorial service closed with a message by the Lutheran pastor, I felt joined in grief to the 4,000-plus mourners in that rural high school gymnasium. I felt connected and comforted. As a Christian, I appreciated the clergy’s hopeful message of eternal life. I appreciated, too, his reference to The Beatitudes, recorded in Matthew 5. Most of us know them: Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted…Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the sons of God… But Rev. Taffe explained the blessed part in a way that I’d not previously grasped. “You may not be feeling blessed,” he told the crowd. He then went on to explain that being blessed in grief “means God is showing favor on you…in deep sadness you are in God’s hands more than any other time.” That resonated with me, deep within my soul.

When the funeral service and TV coverage ended simultaneously at noon, I felt emotionally drained. But I also felt better for having learned about Josh Owen—the deputy and the man—and better for having heard inspirational messages. Calls to express love, to realize that we can unite collectively, give me hope.

Let us go forth in peace.

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FYI: Click here to read Josh Owen’s obituary and how you can support the family via The Josh Owen Memorial Fund.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on Earth Day April 21, 2023

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A retro tray I purchased at a second-hand shop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I AM OF THAT AGE, not quite old enough to have once considered myself a hippie, an anti-war activist or a rebellious, anti-establishment young person coming of age. But I did embrace the peace symbol and embroider flowers on my home-sewn gauzy shirts accenting lime green bell bottoms. I wore a prisoner of war bracelet and Earth Shoes, a marketing gimmick more than anything.

Golden light slices across the sky above Mother Earth at King Mill Dam in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2018)

I was on the edge of a generation that no longer accepted the status quo. The generation that latched onto causes, the generation weary of war and wanting to effect change. That applied also to the early 1970s growing awareness of environmental issues and an earth which needed, still needs, protecting, nurturing, care.

A banner marks the 2022 Earth Day Celebration at Bridge Square in Northfield. This year’s event has been moved indoors to First United Church of Christ. For a complete listing of 2023 events, click here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

In 1970, the first celebration of Earth Day happened. Now here we are 53 years later and still trying to deal with issues affecting our planet. A lot of good has happened in those five decades, especially in creating awareness. Sometimes that has led to action. But a lot has also deteriorated.

I thought about that, specifically, “What do I do in my everyday life that reflects care for the world in which I live?”

Topping my list is buying used rather than new. It helps that I really don’t like to shop and that I don’t even care about stuff all that much. No one will ever view me as fashion conscious. I simply don’t care.

This peace-themed art painted on burlap by Jose Maria de Servin, is one of my favorite artworks. I purchased it at a recycled art sale at the Paradise Center for the Arts in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Nearly all of the furniture in my house has come from family, garage sales or thrift shops. The same for art. I love art. It is admittedly my one indulgence. But the art I own—and it’s a lot, enough so that I rotate it off and on my walls—has come from second-hand sources. The dishes in my cupboard were my mom’s. Drinking glasses are vintage. Serving pieces and bowls were passed down or purchased second-hand.

Hanging laundry on the line has been around forever. I photographed this clothespin bag in an exhibit, “Making Lyon County Home,” at the Lyon County Historical Society Museum in Marshall. And, yes, I have a clothespin bag. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)

Then there’s laundry. For decades I’ve dried laundry outside on a clothesline. I love the task of rhythmically clipping clothing to line. It’s therapeutic in connecting me with nature. I feel the sun, if it’s shining. Or I feel the nip of frosty weather numbing my fingers. I feel the wind, hear the birds, notice the shift of seasons. I am attune to Earth.

In the winter, I layer laundry over a drying rack. Seldom do I use my electric dryer. I’m trying to conserve energy, do my part.

A reminder at last year’s Northfield Earth Day to stop using plastic bags. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

I also use cloth bags. But only sometimes. I take my boomer-rang cloth bag to bag books at the library. At least I’m consistent with that. But I need to use cloth all the time at all the grocery stores I shop, not just the one that requires bringing your own bags.

I recycle wrapping paper, tissue paper, ribbon, bows and gift bags to the point that my extended family ridicules me for that behavior. I learned this from my mom, who did the same, but for economic reasons. I don’t care if my siblings laugh. I’m doing what’s environmentally right.

Admittedly, I can do more. But it’s a start. Every single effort, big or small, matters. We only have one Earth and we all need to care, and do our part.

Chalked onto the sidewalk at Northfield’s Bridge Square during the 2022 Earth Day Celebration. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

TELL ME: What are you doing in an effort to protect and care for our planet?

FYI: Saturday, April 22, is Earth Day. Celebrations are planned locally in Northfield and also at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Calling all cardinals April 20, 2023

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Cardinal photographed at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

PERHAPS HE SHOULDN’T MESS with their bird brains. That’s not Randy’s intention when he whistles back at whistling cardinals. But my husband seems to enjoy the challenge, the sport, the act of communicating with the cardinals that frequent our neighborhood.

A bird nest and hatched egg (not a cardinal’s) found in my yard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2021)

This time of year especially—which in Minnesota means weather that is spring on the calendar but yet sometimes still very much winter in reality—erupts in birdsong. Trees show just the slightest hint of green. Birds sense the shifting season, soon time to craft a nest, settle in and raise a family.

Cardinal at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Randy recognizes that this boisterous season of bird calls brings endless opportunities to practice his cardinal calls. He doesn’t really need practice, in my opinion. He’s nailed the cardinal’s whistle so well that, if I close my eyes and listen, I can’t distinguish the human from the bird, the bird from the human.

Whether the birds can tell the difference, I’m uncertain. But the cardinals always answer him, which tells me Randy’s mimic of their whistle is convincing.

Barn swallow nests cling to a building at the Rice County Fairgrounds, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)

I’ve never been much of a bird person, having grown up with rather common, plain birds like blackbirds, sparrows, robins and the detestable barn swallows. The bomb-diving swallows “attacking” me (so it seemed) as I pushed a wheelbarrow of ground feed down the barn aisle is the stuff of nightmares. Those unpleasant memories will never make me a fan of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds.”

Only one bird on my native prairie home place could be considered anything but ordinary. It was not the cardinal; there were none. Rather we had a pair of Baltimore Orioles, which my mom adored. They were “her” birds, a bit of exotic avian beauty in her ordinary farm life world.

Cardinal at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

In my current-day ordinary town life world, the cardinal is my exotic bird. A flash of red. A sharp whistle that cuts through the street noise. And a time for me to bear witness to a conversation between man and bird.

TELL ME: Do you have a favorite bird? Any bird stories to share. I’d like to hear.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling