Raising their commemorative bier mugs at Oktoberfest in Dundas. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
BIER FLOWED.Musik pulsed. People of all ages danced and sang and visited and ate and drank, simply having a wunderbar time in the small town of Dundas. Randy and I were among the fest-goers, celebrating our first ever Oktoberfest Saturday afternoon. Why did we wait so long?
Dancing to the musik of The Bavarian Musikmeisters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
This, for lack of a better phrase, was a whole lot of fun.
Deutsche costumes were prevalent. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Lots of hats decorated with pins. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Dancing in Deutsche costumes and street clothes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
The mood proved jovial, festive and cheerful. Attendees really got in the spirit of the day, arriving in costume—lederhosen and dirndls and hats adorned with pins.
Chapel Brewing in Dundas served bier, cider and non-alcoholic drinks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
An assortment of mugs and steins sit on a picnic table. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
A stash of bier kegs at the Chapel Brewing tap tent. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I arrived not quite knowing what to expect. Clearly many were seasoned in Oktoberfest, carrying their own massive steins and mugs to Chapel Brewing’sbier tap wagon. Lines formed outside the local craft brewer’s bier dispensing site.
Attendees celebrated inside and outside tents on the festival grounds in downtown Dundas. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
The Bavarian Musikmeisters perform under the big tent. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
The song leader first taught attendees how to pronounce the Deutsche words before leading them in a boisterous drinking song. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Under the big tent, crowds packed the space to overflowing. Here the 35-member Twin Cities-based band, The Bavarian Musikmesiters, performed Deutsche songs while fest-goers listened, danced and even sang in Deutsch.
Randy, left, and other contestants compete in the mug holding competition. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
When a mug holding contest was announced, Randy stepped up to join a group of guys competing to see who could hold a water-filled mug the longest. One-handed. Straight out in front, even with your shoulder. No elbow bending. Randy finished third out of eight. Not bad for the oldest among the competitors. The winner works an office job and lifts 15-pound hand weights at work. But the women, competing with each other at the same time, outlasted the men. Winners kept their mugs and got a free bier.
One of the largest and most detailed bier steins I saw at Oktoberfest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Many times people lifted their bier-filled mugs, steins and plastic cups in Prost! Cheers.
Vendors set up shop along the street next to the Oktoberfest grounds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
A barrel train barrels along the sidewalk, returning from Memorial Park to the fest site. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Little Prairie United Methodist Church served up Deutsche foods and more. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
There was lots to cheer about here from entertainment to food and drink, a craft fair, a collector’s car and motorcycle show, and activities for kids.
A fest-goer carries his stein to the bier wagon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I took it all in, celebrating my Deutsche heritage, trying to remember the Deutsch I learned in high school and then in college. I’ve forgotten most of the Mother tongue. No one much cared. Rather, the focus was on fun, Deutsche style fun. Prost!
#
NOTE: Please check back for more photos from Dundas’ Oktoberfest.
A promo for Martha Brown’s presentation about Cambodia sits on the checkout counter at Buckham Memorial Library, Faribault.
HISTORY CONNECTS THE STORIES of the two Marthas. One, Martha Ballard, a midwife and the main character in a book of historical fiction, The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. The second Martha is Martha Brown, local author, educator, speaker, musician and political candidate for state representative in my district. She shared her personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on Thursday evening at the Faribault library in a presentation titled “Cambodia—Healing a Broken County.”
I’d just finished reading Lawhon’s book earlier Thursday so the commonalities between a story set in the late 1700s in postrevolutionary America and Brown’s recent trip to Cambodia connected in my mind. In both stories exist violence, trauma, strength, power and resilience within an historical context.
THE CAMBODIAN GENOCIDE
I’ll start with Brown. She focused on the time before and after the 1975-1979 Cambodian Genocide in which some 2 million Cambodians were murdered under the rule of Khmer Rouge, the Communist political party then in power. She also touched on the illegal and secret bombings of Cambodia by the U.S. in 1969 against North Vietnamese forces in Cambodia. That, too, claimed untold civilian lives.
I don’t want to get into historical details here or a political discussion about the Vietnam War. Rather, I intend the focus to be on those who suffered in Cambodia and those who survived. Just as Brown focused her hour-long talk. She arrived in Cambodia expecting to see trauma from the genocide. But instead, she said, she found recovery, healing and joy. She saw survivors of the genocide as part of the healing.
A HORRIFIC HISTORY NOT HIDDEN
The history of the genocide has not been hidden nor erased in Cambodia. “They don’t bury their history,” Brown said. I jotted that quote in my notebook, mentally connecting that to current day America and ongoing efforts by the current administration to erase/hide/rewrite history. We all know the quote—”Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”—by Spanish Philosopher George Santayana. We would do well to contemplate and hold those words close.
In her presentation, Brown did not avoid the hard topics of children recruited and indoctrinated to participate in the Cambodian Genocide killings of educators, doctors, ordinary people, even those who wore eyeglasses. Perpetrators were never punished, went back to their lives, now live among the population. This was hard stuff to hear, especially about the brainwashing of children to kill. “We need to teach our children well,” said Brown, ever the educator who cares deeply about children.
LESSONS LEARNED IN CAMBODIA
Her passion was evident as she spoke of hugging survivors, of apologizing for the U.S. bombings of Cambodia, of crying while in the southeast Asian country. She learned that how you live and treat people is more important than wealth. She learned that people can be poor and still be happy. She learned about the differences in a society that focuses on community rather than self.
When Brown’s talk ended, others shared and a few of us asked questions, including me. Mine was too political to answer in a non-political presentation. But I asked anyway about the internal and external factors contributing to the rise and fall of empires. Brown hesitated, saying only that we could draw our own conclusions from her talk.
Book cover sourced online.
A MUST-READ BOOK
Then I wrote “The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon” on a slip of paper. Not to give to Brown, but rather to the local director of Hope Center serving survivors and victims of sexual assault and domestic violence and their families. I handed the paper to Erica Staab-Absher after hugging her. “You need to read this book,” I said.
In this book of historical fiction, the author bases her writing on real-life midwife Martha Ballard, who documented her life in a journal. Ballard was witness to violence, sexual assault, injustices, secrets, manipulation, power, trauma and much more. This book will resonate with anyone who has survived a sexual assault or cared about someone who has been so viciously attacked. I cannot say enough about the value of reading this book and how empowering it was to me as a woman. It is a love story, mystery and a documentation of strength and resilience.
Resilience. Strength. Healing. Those three words come to mind as I connect the work of a New York Times bestselling author and a talk about the Cambodian Genocide at my southern Minnesota library. By reading and listening, I learned. To read a book pulled from the shelves at my public library and then to listen to personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on the second floor of that same library are freedoms I no longer take for granted. Not today. I choose to remember and learn from the past. And hope we do not repeat it.
Playing marbles at the Valley Grove Country Social. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
AS I MEANDERED THE GROUNDS of the historic Valley Grove churches during a recent Country Social, I happened upon a grandfather teaching his grandsons the old-fashioned game of marbles. I stood, watched, and photographed while the trio positioned and flicked marbles across a tabletop. Years ago, this game would have been played on the ground, in the dirt.
A look of pure joy after releasing a marble. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
But this seemingly mattered not to the boys playing under the guidance of Rene Koester of the Valley Grove Preservation Society, who admitted he’d forgotten some of the rules. If his students cared, they didn’t express it. They were simply having fun playing a simple game.
Old-fashioned toys, including this wooden top, were available for play. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I loved seeing the interaction, the connecting of today’s generation to the past, to a time when kids played mostly outside. A time before video games. A time when life was much different.
The two Valley Grove churches are on the National Register of Historic Places. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
The Valley Grove Country Social proves a wonderful way to connect to the past and to place. On this 50-acre parcel of land in rural Nerstrand, people gather each September to celebrate the two aged Norwegian churches that sit atop a hill overlooking the countryside. They also come here to celebrate the Norwegian immigrants who built the 1862 stone and 1894 clapboard churches. They come, too, to celebrate and honor a rich Norwegian history and heritage.
Historian Jeff Sauve leads a cemetery tour, stopping at selected gravesites to share histories of the deceased. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Krumkake made on-site and still warm off the griddle when I ate this Norwegian treat. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Demonstrating the craft of blacksmithing. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Many times I’ve attended this Country Social, which this year included a cemetery tour, book discussion, music, blacksmithing and rope-making demonstrations, music under the oaks, horse-drawn wagon rides, treats inside the old stone church and old-fashioned games for the kids. Plus lots of wandering and visiting among tombstones in the adjacent cemetery.
Prairie and woods define the landscape here at Valley Grove, which is next to Nerstrand Big Woods State Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
In all of Rice County, there is perhaps no place I’ve found more peaceful. I’ve come to Valley Grove in all seasons. Sat upon the wooden church steps and eaten a picnic lunch. Tromped through snow. Walked more times than I remember among the tombstones. I’ve listened to music and speakers and those rooted in this land.
This tapestry woven by Robbie LaFleur features the 1862 stone church. It is one of four tapestries LaFleur created for Valley Grove. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I have no personal connection to Valley Grove. I’m not even Norwegian. I’m German. But this matters not to the lutefisk, lefse, krumkake-loving Norwegians. Or to me. I’ve found in this place welcoming individuals, who just happen to be of Norwegian heritage.
Hutenanny performs under the oaks with a prairie backdrop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
If the Norwegians and the Germans here in southern Minnesota didn’t always get along—and I expect some didn’t—then no traces of those differences remain. At least not here, not on a Sunday afternoon in September at Valley Grove. This gives me hope. Perhaps the commonalities we share will some day overcome our differences and we will welcome and embrace one another no matter our countries of origin.
A discussion of the book, “Muus vs Muus, The Scandal That Shook Norwegian America,” inside the wooden church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Perhaps we ought to visit a place like Valley Grove. Learn a new-old game. Pick up a clutch of marbles. Feel the smooth or pitted orb of a marble in our hand. Bend low to the earth. And touch the dirt.
A view of Willow Street and our yard shows the corner of our house, the fence we finished staining at 4 p.m. Tuesday, skid marks on the sidewalkand a track across the lawnfrom the vehicle that slammed into our fence. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 17, 2025)
FIVE HOURS AFTER we finished staining the fence enclosing our backyard, an out-of-control vehicle slammed into it, missing our house by about 15 feet.
The Suburban that crashed into our fence Tuesday evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)
We were just wrapping up bible study at a friend’s house across town when my neighbor, Ken, called around 8:45 p.m. Tuesday. It is the first time Ken has ever called me, so I figured something must be up. It was. Or, rather, down. There was, he said, a vehicle crashed in our yard with fence panels down and the cops on site. You might want to come home, he suggested.
Randy and I arrived home to a street flooded with emergency vehicles and personnel and neighbors outdoors watching everything unfold. By then, Willow Street, an arterial roadway through Faribault, had been blocked. Likewise, Tower Place, the side street along our corner property was closed to traffic.
The snapped power pole, pushed from its place near the corner of the boulevard, landing near our front door. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)
As Randy pulled the van into the driveway, I saw the power pole on the corner was askew, broken. We, and others in the neighborhood, were without power. A power line stretched low across Willow, high enough for most vehicles, but not semis.
A tow truck arrives to remove the Suburban lodged in our yard between fence panels. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)
Then we walked around our garage to see a black Suburban partially sticking into our yard, one fence panel angled, another demolished, a third scratched. I’ll admit, I was furious. So angry I didn’t even ask about the condition of the driver initially. All I could think of was the fence, the one we’d just finished staining hours earlier in the heat of an unusually hot and humid September day. The 10-panel lattice-topped fence that has stood for some 25 years unscathed.
This is the second vehicle involved, the pickup, being towed away. That’s our house and the leaning power pole in the background. (Photo credit: Randy Helbling)
I asked what happened. Good question, the officer replied. By then I realized a second vehicle, a pick-up truck, was also involved. That sat turned across Willow Street near its intersection with Tower. Finally, I inquired about the drivers. They fled the scene, the policeman said. I asked the officer to check our garage to assure no one was hiding inside. It was empty.
It was a long night. Of talking to police. Of calling our eldest daughter, who lives in Minnesota. Of texting our insurance agent. Of texting our bible study friends. Of talking to the tow truck driver. Of talking to the Xcel Energy crew dispatched to install a new power pole. They labored until 4 a.m. to place the new pole and wires and restore power.
We slept only a few hours given adrenalin and then the noise of the Xcel trucks.
Skid marks on Willow Street show the path the vehicles took down the street, over the curb and onto the boulevard where the Suburban hit the power pole. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)
I’m still mad about all of this. I want to know what happened. What occurred between the two vehicles to cause the Suburban to take out a power pole, nearly hitting our bedroom and wiping out part of our fence. A high rate of speed was apparently involved given skid marks and damage to vehicles. Why did the drivers flee the scene?
The fence panel to the right was shoved in and damaged. The next panel was demolished. And the third panel also has some damage. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 17 2025)
And who’s going to pay for new fence panels? Install them? And stain them?
In the light of Wednesday morning, my anger has lessened some as I reflect on a “this could have been worse scenario.” The drivers could have been killed. The Suburban could have hit our house, specifically our bedroom, when we were sleeping. Had this happened during the day, when we were staining the fence, well, I don’t really want to think about that.
The back of the Suburban. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 16, 2025)
One witness has the answers. He sat calmly in the front passenger seat of the Suburban. So quiet I didn’t even realize he was there until an officer alerted me. The witness, a Saint Bernard, was coaxed out of the Suburban and loaded into the back of a squad car. If only dogs could speak.
#
NOTE: Nighttime images were taken with cellphones, thus the low quality.
Vendors set up shop on the grounds of the Rice County Historical Society last Saturday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I’VE SHOPPED ENOUGH FLEA MARKETS, garage sales and thrift shops through the decades to understand that all three hold nostalgia and memories along with some bargain prices.
Vintage goods offered by Rex Kern. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Take the recent Rice County Historical Society Fall Flea Market in Faribault. Browsing through tables of merchandise and talking to vendors elicited many memories with second-hand goods prompting stories.
Vendor Rex Kern, left, visits during the flea market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I detasseled Dekalb seedcorn and my dad grew Dekalb. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
For example, when I spotted a Dekalb seedcorn sign, I initiated a conversation with merchant Rex Kern about detasseling corn for Dekalb. Worst job, ever, I declared. Kern listened and then agreed that pulling tassels from corn stalks in the heat and humidity of July, dew running down my arms, corn leaves slicing my skin for $1.25 hour sounded awful. But then he shared his story about catching and stuffing turkeys into cages. That, I said, sounded far worse than pulling tassels. Kern didn’t last long at that job. In my mind, I was seeing, too, the many loaded turkey trucks that pass through Faribault en route to the turkey plant only blocks from the flea market.
This beautiful bride brought back memories of my own bridal doll. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
At Kern’s booth I also found assorted dolls standing in cardboard boxes, their heads peeking above the edges as if watching shoppers. I found the scene a bit creepy although the dolls were not creepy. Among those dolls was a bride, which sent me back to a childhood Christmas. I received a bridal doll enclosed in a red suitcase. She was beautiful. Until she wasn’t. My older brother took her and smashed in her boobs. Why? Because, sometimes brothers can be mean.
Among the albums at the flea market, heart throb Donny Osmond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
If Donny Osmond, who performed with his older brothers in the Osmonds band and then solo, was ever mean to his only sister, Marie, I don’t know. But I do know that I considered him a heart throb. A flea market album, “Donny Osmond—Alone Together,” was enough to temporarily take me back in time to my teen years of swooning over the likes of Osmond, David Cassidy, Bobby Sherman and many other teen idols.
This unrelated collection of merchandise drew my eye, prompted memories. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
But I wasn’t exactly embracing the clown I saw sandwiched between Winnie the Pooh and a bunny. I remember, as a kid, fearing clowns in parades. Not any more. Still, I wouldn’t intentionally buy a clown to display in my home.
A Fun Lil’ Band plays at the flea market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
It’s interesting how memories that have long been tucked away can suddenly resurface when triggered by a sight, a smell, a sound, a conversation. In a brief conversation with members of A Fun Lil’ Band, playing at the flea market, I shared that I never had the opportunity to play an instrument and can’t even read a musical note. The closest I came to playing music was on a toy accordion I received for Christmas one year. And, no, none of my three brothers wrecked that.
This vintage 1930s bike priced at $200 looked similar to one my mom rode. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
My maternal grandfather salvaged wrecked bikes from the junkyard, repairing and repainting them for me and my siblings. So when I saw several vintage bikes for sale at the flea market, I thought of Grandpa. I only wish I had realized then what a gift of love this was to us, his grandchildren. Without Grandpa fixing up those bikes, I wouldn’t have had “Sky Blue,” (yes, I named my bike) the recycled bike he painted sky blue and gave to me. My very own bike, no sharing with siblings required.
Young entrepreneur Avery set up shop at the flea market. She also sells on etsy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I expect other flea market shoppers found memories among the tables and tables and tables of merchandise. I also found a 13-year-old selling her homemade bracelets and earrings via her business, DazzleberryBeads. Avery started the company because she wants to buy a dog. She’s almost there. I failed to ask her what kind of dog.
A shopper brought her dog, which I asked to photograph. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
But I did see, and photograph, a dog at the flea market.
Commemorative buttons from Faribault for sale at the flea market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I appreciate the stories shared at flea markets, the memories recalled, the art discovered, the history displayed. A flea market is about so much more than getting rid of “junk,” which really isn’t junk at all. It’s about all of us, collectively, sharing our lives.
This, the vendor said, is a sheriff. The piece reminded me of all the Westerns I watched as a child. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
TELL ME: Do any of the items in the photos featured here prompt memories for you? Please share your stories.
Shopping at the Faribault Farmers’ Market on a Saturday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
FUN, FOOD, COMMUNITY AND CREATIVITY drew all ages to Central Park on September 13 for two special events—the Faribault Farmers’ Market Family Day and the Faribault Makers’ Market Customer Appreciation Day.
Some of Al’s vegetables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Randy and I joined those shopping for local food and goods. We brought home a ginormous watermelon from our friend Al plus two pounds of ground beef from Big Woods Beef, sweetcorn from River View Veggie Farm, and four juicy and savory pears from a vendor who lives near Union Lake.
Shopping at the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
A close-up of a colorful crocheted throw at Barb’s Kitchen Crafts and Homemade Goods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Halloween themed pens for sale at the makers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I also snapped photos and engaged in some wonderful conversations. For me, these markets are all about celebrating community—the people who live here, farm and garden here, bake here, create here.
An ice cream truck repurposed for selling locally-raised beef. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I learned, for example, when chatting with the couple at Big Woods Beef that their refrigerated truck is a repurposed Schwans delivery truck. That led to my reminiscing about the Schwans “Ice Cream Man.” We talked about farm prices too, about the low prices of corn and soybeans and the high price for beef. And I understood, as I did decades ago when my farmer dad struggled to support his family, how challenging the economics of farming remain.
Eggs fresh from the farm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
At the farmers’ market, there’s a direct link to the land—in fresh eggs gathered, in bumpy pumpkins pulled from the vine, in garden fresh tomatoes ripened by the sun, in clutches of colorful zinnias and gladiolus cut from fields…
Selling gladiolus at Three Glad Girls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Three Glad Girls (and their mom) have vended gladiolus at the Faribault market for years, since the sisters, after whom the business is named, were young. They battled mosquitoes to bring their $10 bouquets of glads to Saturday’s market. The mosquitoes proved relentless even as they sold their flowers.
Jax enjoys a cookie while his mom sells at the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Saturday’s special family day focused primarily on activities for kids. I met several of them. Jax, 1, clutching a cookie and wearing a simple black tee with the words “CAUTION instructions not included.” Now that made me laugh. His mom, Jaylyn, was selling tallow balms, lotions, sugar scrubs and more with her business, Tallow Parlor.
Margot shows off the butterfly she made. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Over at an informational display about Scouting, Margot, 4, not old enough yet for Girl Scouts, posed with a coffee filter butterfly she crafted at a master gardeners’/University of Minnesota extension service table. The adults got a swag bag.
Kids enjoy the bouncy castle set up next to the Central Park Band Shell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Near the Central Park band shell, kids bounced inside an inflatable castle and played yard games while shoppers passed nearby. There was market BINGO for all ages.
Friendly and creative Amelia. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Pickles crafted and canned by Amelia’s dad. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Amelia arranges some of the items she creates for the farmers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I continued to work my way along the sidewalk, pausing to chat with vendor Amelia, a bubbly and energetic young woman who crafted a carrot and corn to wear in her hair, her contribution to the fun. I always make a point of talking to her because she makes me happy. Amelia stitches and crafts. Her dad gardens and cans.
Homemade salsa from The Viking Baker. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I walked past piles of melons, pumpkins filling a wagon, jars of homemade salsa and a whole lot more local goodness.
I love this message on the artsy sign crafted by Ronda. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Over on the south side of the park, where the makers set up shop, I talked to my friend Ronda, whose joyful personality matches that of bubbly Amelia. Ronda’s love of crafting is evident. She’s been doing this for years, crafting and selling at markets.
Harvey shows off his stenciled art. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
I popped into several other booths, passed by the Mighty Fine Coffee vendor, stopped to photograph Harvey, almost seven, sporting a freshly-painted spider web and spider on his arm. His smile reached to his eyes.
Selling and shopping at the makers’ market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
This is why I attend community markets and events. This place, these people, bring me joy.
Shoppers and vendors at a previous Rice County Historical Society Flea Market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2024)
THE UPCOMING WEEKEND brings a quartet of local events that not only entertain, but also honor, support and celebrate. Count me in.
First up is the Rice County Historical Society Fall Flea Market from 8 a.m.-2 p.m. Saturday, September 13, at the RCHS museum grounds along Second Avenue in Faribault. Here vendors set up shop and sell an assortments of goods with the variety of an old time mercantile.
I love browsing, and sometimes buying, at this outdoor market. But I also enjoy connecting with the sellers and other shoppers. Often I’ll see people I haven’t seen in a while, which leads to conversations. And to me, that’s what these events, at their core, are really about—connecting and reconnecting to build a strong sense of community.
Trees flooded with purple lights at a past Light of Hope Celebration and a special tent for survivors. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2023)
LIGHT OF HOPE
Saturday afternoon, beginning at 4 p.m. until 10 p.m., folks will gather in Faribault’s Central Park for the Light of Hope Celebration, which focuses on cancer. Or, more accurately, focuses on those who have died from, survived or are fighting cancer. I expect every single one of you have been touched by cancer. Many of my friends and family members have endured cancer, including my dad who died of cancer in 2003. And my dear friend Barb, who died in 2024. I also know plenty of survivors.
Light of Hope aims to raise monies for local cancer patients and their families through the sale of luminaries, bench markers and donations. Recipients receive gas cards and/or monies to assist with mortgage payments, groceries, utility bills and other everyday expenses. The Light of Hope organization emphasizes “local” in their mission. I appreciate that people within my community can get financial help in the midst of a cancer diagnosis.
Among the hundreds of luminaries at a past Light of Hope luminary walk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)
Saturday’s celebration includes a luminary walk, personal stories, family fun, music, food trucks, raffle baskets and more. While the mood is celebratory, it can also be difficult as memories of loved ones unleash strong emotions. I know. I’ve walked the luminary path and cried as I read names of those dear to me.
SPIRIT FEST
Also on Saturday, from 5-9 p.m., Divine Mercy Catholic Church in Faribault hosts its annual Spirit Fest, a jam-packed weekend event featuring, food, music, auctions, raffles, makers’ market, bake sale, kids’ crafts, games, inflatables, outdoor movie, mini golf, cornhole tournament and much more. The fest is open to the public. Sunday, September 14, brings a second day of fun starting at 9 a.m. and running until 5 p.m. (Click here for a full schedule of events.)
Valley Grove churches and cemetery, rural Nerstrand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)
VALLEY GROVE COUNTRY SOCIAL
In rural Nerstrand, the focus turns to history, specifically two historic Norwegian immigrant churches set high atop a hill in rural Nerstrand. The Valley Grove Preservation Society celebrates its annual Country Social from 1- 4 p.m. Sunday, September 14, with Nordic music, a history stroll, wagon rides, children’s activities, blacksmithing and rope-making demonstrations, a book discussion and more, including coffee and treats.
Attendees are also encouraged to view commissioned Norwegian tapestries inside the 1862 stone church and the renovated steeple on the 1894 clapboard church just across the lawn.
Inside the wooden church at Valley Grove. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)
Valley Grove happens to be one of my favorite spots in rural Rice County because of its natural beauty, history and peacefulness. Fifty acres of rolling prairie grasses and woods surround the two churches, which are on the National Register of Historic Places. The church buildings are beautiful in their simplicity. It’s not hard to imagine long ago Norwegian immigrants gathering here to worship, mourn, marry and celebrate.
Truly, all four of these weekend events in my area are about community, connecting and celebrating. Thank you, organizers, for offering these activities that are fundraisers for your groups and fun for all of us.
A protester at the NO KINGS day rally in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2025)
MONDAY EVENING I GATHERED in rural Rice County with a crowd concerned about issues ranging from healthcare to immigration, agriculture, education, the environment, diversity, gun violence, the SNAP program, tariffs, voting rights, veterans’ benefits, the economy and much more. All current-day topics worrying many of us, including me.
I’ve never been politically active. Until this year. To stay silent now feels complicit. I care enough about this country, about freedom, about democracy, to let my voice be heard. I’ve participated in three pro-democracy rallies, including the NO KINGS Day Rally in Northfield and two on Labor Day in Owatonna. I’ve volunteered at a DFL Sweetcorn Feed in Faribault. I’ve donated to the DFL, called and emailed my legislators in Washington, DC. And Monday evening I attended a potluck, billed as a DFL Working Families Garden Party. This all from someone who previously voted primarily Republican. But no more, not in the past four Presidential elections or in some other past elections. I’ve always looked at candidates, their character and their stances on issues before voting. I still do, but party affiliation now matters to me, too.
Minnesota potlucks always include bars, like these at a previous event I attended. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
DEEP CONCERN
At all of these recent events, I’ve heard—whether from politicians, candidates for office or ordinary people like me—a deep concern for our country under the current administration and those who go along with whatever our President says and does. This concern comes from good, decent people. Farmers, teachers, business owners, lawyers, blue collar workers, college students. People who carry crockpots of pulled pork and baked beans, bowls of creamy garden-fresh cucumber salad, peach pie and bars to a political party on a rural acreage.
As I sat in this bucolic setting Monday evening listening to short speeches from candidates like Martha Brown of Faribault, running for Minnesota House District 19A on the slogan of “Common-Sense Leadership for Working People,” or fiery Matt Little from Elko New Market who embraces the label of “radical” and who is running for Congress in the Second Congressional District or Ben Schierer of Fergus Falls, campaigning for state auditor and vowing to represent both urban and rural communities, I felt hope.
Minnesota Secretary of State Steve Simon speaks at the DFL Garden Party hosted by Ted Suss, right, near Nerstrand. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
COMPASSION & HOPE
I felt hope, too, when I heard Minnesota Secretary of State Steve Simon talk about protecting voter information, voting rights and more. I felt hope when I heard Minnesota Senate Majority Leader Erin Murphy speak. As a nurse, her care and compassion for others threads through her speeches, shines in her political life.
Murphy spoke on Monday evening against a backdrop of American and Minnesota state flags and a banner of the Hortmans and their dog with this message: STAND UP FOR JUSTICE AND PEACE. She talked, too, about attending the funeral on Sunday of Fletcher Merkel, 8, among two students killed in a mass shooting that injured 21 others at Annunciation Catholic Church in south Minneapolis on August 27. Justice. Peace. No more gun violence.
This sign from the NO KINGS rally in Northfield really resonated with me. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2025)
UNPRECEDENTED
I’ve lived enough years to observe that what’s happening in this country right now is unprecedented. I’ve never felt more fearful of losing our freedoms under authoritarian rule. It’s happening already with snatching people off the streets, imprisonment and deportations without due process. It’s happening in intimidation and retribution; mass firings; suppression of free speech; funding cuts that are undermining research, healthcare, education and more; gathering of private information by the government; sending armed military into cities; and in countless other ways that affect all of us no matter our political affiliations.
This isn’t about rural vs urban. This isn’t about us vs them. This is, rather, about preserving and protecting our very freedoms as Americans. This is about caring and feeling hopeful. This is about speaking up. About doing something. And sometimes this is also about eating pulled pork, baked beans, cucumber salad and homemade peach pie at a potluck on a beautiful September evening in southern Minnesota.
#
NOTE: I moderate all comments on this, my personal blog, reserving the right to publish or not publish comments. Please be respectfulwhether you agree or disagree with me.
I took this photo of a young boy with a dinosaur painted on his face and imitating a dinosaur at the Virtues Trail Family Night in Faribault six years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
“THE KIDS KNOW more about dinosaurs than me,” said my friend Larry Richie, retired Faribault area farmer, amateur archaeologist, historian, volunteer at Nerstrand Charter School and much more. He’s one of those guys who’s a wealth of knowledge accrued through years of living and caring about people, animals, the land and history. And he’s always willing to share his discoveries.
Larry Richie leads his donkey, Orville, around the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines grounds in 2024. He brought Orville to the fall show again this year along with a collection of fossils. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2024)
I ran into Larry recently at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Fall Show where he had set up tables with fossils uncovered during digs on property south of Faribault. I didn’t take notes, so I don’t recall everything my friend told me. But I left feeling pretty certain I’d just touched, picked up and photographed dinosaur bones.
Larry knows a heckuva lot more than I do about these plant and meat-eaters that roamed the earth long ago. But not as much as the kids, he laughed. I concur. My grandchildren certainly know more about dinosaurs, and Pokemon, than I do.
One of many fossils Larry brought to the Gas & Steam Engines Fall Show. Those would be toes on a dinosaur, according to Larry. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
As I listened to Larry, I thought, here’s a man with passion and determination. Although he’s, as yet, been unable to find anyone who will verify the authenticity of his dinosaur bones, I walked away a believer.
The battery-operated dinosaur roars, moves its head and arms, and flashes its eyes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Dinosaurs are decidedly amazing creatures that fascinate all of us, no matter our age. I remember playing with plastic dinosaurs as a young child. If I was to dig around in an upstairs storage space, I’d likely find those vintage toys. And if I headed to the basement and opened a tote, I’d find several dinosaurs, including battery-operated ones, belonging to my now grown children. Those roaring dinos with flashing red eyes scared my grandkids as preschoolers.
A tribute to Sinclair Oil and its dinosaur in a residential yard in Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
One dinosaur that never scares is DINO, the Apatosaurus of Sinclair Oil fame. I happened upon three multi-sized versions of DINO along a residential street near Morehouse Park in Owatonna recently. The trio was strategically placed on either side of Sinclair gas pumps, the scene like a work of art, a snapshot of marketing history.
The largest of the three DINOs in the Sinclair Oil Company display in Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)
Elvern and Arlene Kletscher with children, Audrey, Lanae, Brian and Monica, at Dinosaur Park in the summer of 1966. I’m the oldest sibling in this photo taken by my brother Doug.
There’s something about dinosaurs that is timeless, that appeals to generations. I hold fond memories of visiting Dinosaur Park in Rapid City, S.D. in 1966 on the only vacation our family ever took. It’s documented in a black-and-white photo pasted in my photo album. Those mammoth sculptures atop the hill made an impression.
Today I remain in awe of dinosaurs. Just like my friend Larry, my grandkids and countless other kids and adults. I expect we’d all feel a bit differently, though, if dinosaurs, especially meat-eaters, still roamed the earth.
Wagons heaped with harvested oats provide an interesting backdrop for the approaching horse-drawn wagon at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Fall Show. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
PHOTOS TELL STORIES, record moments in time, preserve memories, prompt emotional reactions, convey messages and more.
The first picture I took at the farm show, just outside the entry gate. I love the creativity and humor in this scene. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
My venture into photography began when I studied journalism in college with a photography class as part of the degree requirement. This was back in the day of film and darkrooms. Chemicals, water baths and contact sheets were part of a long process to get from photo snapped to photo printed.
I love capturing moments like this of someone so focused on a task that they are unaware of my presence. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
During my twenties working as a small town newspaper reporter, I honed the craft of photography. I juggled interviews and note taking with shooting photos. Today’s reporters do the same unless they are employed by a metro newspaper with a staff photographer.
I opted to zoom in on this mammoth steam engine, focusing on the steam and wheels, emphasizing the power of this long ago agricultural work horse. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
After a while, I got comfortable with the camera, confident in my abilities to shoot images to accompany hard news, features and other stories. Practice may not make perfect, but it certainly builds skills.
I was sitting on the ground underneath a tree eating lunch when I aimed my camera lens up and took this photo of a guy driving this 1955 Oliver Super 66.The perspective makes this photo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
I’ve grown to love photography through the years, especially after acquiring a digital camera while freelancing for a Minnesota magazine. Digital unleashed the photo creative in me. I no longer had to worry about the cost of film or running out of film. So I took a lot more photos, tried new perspectives, began to see the world through an artistic lens. More often than not, I find myself thinking, oh, that would make a good photo.
I didn’t even realize I’d captured this joyful moment until I uploaded my photos to the computer. I’d been firing off shots of the kids’ pedal tractor pull and this one, among all, is my favorite. It shows a moment of pure happiness. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
But vision issues are now affecting and limiting my photography. My eyes are misaligned, meaning my brain works hard (even with prism-heavy prescription eyeglasses) to see. It’s exhausting. I do my best. Yet it’s challenging sometimes to tell if an image is sharp. I can feel the strain on my eyes when I use my camera for an extended time and when I process images on my computer.
I stood in the doorway of the dining room to photograph these women visiting in the kitchen of the 1912 farmhouse where homemade cookies awaited guests. I like how the doorframe frames this photo, as if the viewer is eavesdropping on a private conversation. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
Still, I persist. Until I either have another bilateral strabismus eye surgery or try a different (and expensive) prescription, this is the way it is. At least I can see. I manage. I can still create with my 35mm Canon EOS 60D.
During the tractor parade, I noticed these sweet kids riding in a wagon behind an old corn picker mounted on a John Deere tractor. I like the perspective and that part of the corn picker shows in the upper left corner of this photo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
Last Saturday I did the longest photo shoot I’ve done in several years. I took hundreds of images during six hours at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Fall Show. It’s a fun event to document with so much happening and so many people attending. I don’t want to stop doing what I love.
This close-up image of corn shelling shows exactly what I had hoped: the dust. I sometimes zoom in to focus on a smaller part of the broader picture. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
My biggest challenges in covering the event came in dodging golf carts that swarmed the grounds and in avoiding dust from some of the farming demonstrations. Cameras and dirt are not friends. I also always had to be cognizant of unintentional photo bombing by people and those pesky (but necessary for some to get around) golf carts.
This photo shows off not only tractors, but human connection as the driver waves to the crowd during the tractor parade. I love this moment of humanity when nothing else matters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
I’ve already shared many show photos with you in an overall post about the event and in a second focusing on art. Today I bring you a hodge-podge of more favorites, with an explanation in the captions of why I like the images. Enjoy!
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
The stories of two Marthas September 19, 2025
Tags: Ariel Lawhon, books, Buckham Memorial Library, Cambodia, Camodian Genocide, commentary, Faribault, healing, historical fiction, history, Martha Ballard, Martha Brown, Minnesota, The Frozen River
HISTORY CONNECTS THE STORIES of the two Marthas. One, Martha Ballard, a midwife and the main character in a book of historical fiction, The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. The second Martha is Martha Brown, local author, educator, speaker, musician and political candidate for state representative in my district. She shared her personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on Thursday evening at the Faribault library in a presentation titled “Cambodia—Healing a Broken County.”
I’d just finished reading Lawhon’s book earlier Thursday so the commonalities between a story set in the late 1700s in postrevolutionary America and Brown’s recent trip to Cambodia connected in my mind. In both stories exist violence, trauma, strength, power and resilience within an historical context.
THE CAMBODIAN GENOCIDE
I’ll start with Brown. She focused on the time before and after the 1975-1979 Cambodian Genocide in which some 2 million Cambodians were murdered under the rule of Khmer Rouge, the Communist political party then in power. She also touched on the illegal and secret bombings of Cambodia by the U.S. in 1969 against North Vietnamese forces in Cambodia. That, too, claimed untold civilian lives.
I don’t want to get into historical details here or a political discussion about the Vietnam War. Rather, I intend the focus to be on those who suffered in Cambodia and those who survived. Just as Brown focused her hour-long talk. She arrived in Cambodia expecting to see trauma from the genocide. But instead, she said, she found recovery, healing and joy. She saw survivors of the genocide as part of the healing.
A HORRIFIC HISTORY NOT HIDDEN
The history of the genocide has not been hidden nor erased in Cambodia. “They don’t bury their history,” Brown said. I jotted that quote in my notebook, mentally connecting that to current day America and ongoing efforts by the current administration to erase/hide/rewrite history. We all know the quote—”Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”—by Spanish Philosopher George Santayana. We would do well to contemplate and hold those words close.
In her presentation, Brown did not avoid the hard topics of children recruited and indoctrinated to participate in the Cambodian Genocide killings of educators, doctors, ordinary people, even those who wore eyeglasses. Perpetrators were never punished, went back to their lives, now live among the population. This was hard stuff to hear, especially about the brainwashing of children to kill. “We need to teach our children well,” said Brown, ever the educator who cares deeply about children.
LESSONS LEARNED IN CAMBODIA
Her passion was evident as she spoke of hugging survivors, of apologizing for the U.S. bombings of Cambodia, of crying while in the southeast Asian country. She learned that how you live and treat people is more important than wealth. She learned that people can be poor and still be happy. She learned about the differences in a society that focuses on community rather than self.
When Brown’s talk ended, others shared and a few of us asked questions, including me. Mine was too political to answer in a non-political presentation. But I asked anyway about the internal and external factors contributing to the rise and fall of empires. Brown hesitated, saying only that we could draw our own conclusions from her talk.
A MUST-READ BOOK
Then I wrote “The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon” on a slip of paper. Not to give to Brown, but rather to the local director of Hope Center serving survivors and victims of sexual assault and domestic violence and their families. I handed the paper to Erica Staab-Absher after hugging her. “You need to read this book,” I said.
In this book of historical fiction, the author bases her writing on real-life midwife Martha Ballard, who documented her life in a journal. Ballard was witness to violence, sexual assault, injustices, secrets, manipulation, power, trauma and much more. This book will resonate with anyone who has survived a sexual assault or cared about someone who has been so viciously attacked. I cannot say enough about the value of reading this book and how empowering it was to me as a woman. It is a love story, mystery and a documentation of strength and resilience.
Resilience. Strength. Healing. Those three words come to mind as I connect the work of a New York Times bestselling author and a talk about the Cambodian Genocide at my southern Minnesota library. By reading and listening, I learned. To read a book pulled from the shelves at my public library and then to listen to personal reflections about a trip to Cambodia on the second floor of that same library are freedoms I no longer take for granted. Not today. I choose to remember and learn from the past. And hope we do not repeat it.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling