Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Chris Norbury’s newest book, this one for young adults, proves another excellent read August 13, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Cover image sourced online.

WE CAN ALL USE some encouragement, no matter our age. And that’s exactly what you’ll find in “Little Mountain, Big Trouble,” a debut young adult novel by Owatonna writer Chris Norbury.

I don’t typically read fiction written for youth. But when I met Norbury this summer at Faribault’s Heritage Days and learned about his latest book, I knew I had to read it. I’m a fan of Norbury’s writing. He’s the author of three books in the Matt Lanier mystery/suspense/thriller series. All are set in Minnesota, which makes them even more appealing to me.

Given the differences in writing mysteries for adults versus fiction for youth, I wondered if Norbury could pull it off. He did, and so well that I wanted to continue reading “Little Mountain, Big Trouble” one evening well past my bed-time. That, in my opinion, is the sign of a good book.

BULLIED

The story centers around 12-year-old Eduardo, or EJ, who’s unpopular, bullied, short and at that awkward middle school age with its uncertainties, peer pressure and insecurities. Toss in poverty, a broken family and other challenges and you have a relatable read. I imagine many middle or high schoolers can empathize with EJ’s pain, struggles and lack of confidence. Even I, decades removed from junior high school, felt difficult memories of bullying surge back. Some things you just never forget. I still carry the pain of name-calling with me. But, because of that, I lean into compassion, understanding, empathy and kindness.

BIG BROTHER, LITTLE BROTHER

Norbury’s book is filled with all of that, too, no surprise given his experiences as a Big Brother. In real life, he mentored boys through Big Brothers Big Sisters of Southern Minnesota and now donates a portion of his book sale proceeds to the organization. When we met, Norbury enthused about the program and how much his “little brothers” meant, still mean, to him.

In “Little Mountain, Big Trouble,” main character EJ is paired with Big Brother, Russ. That relationship focuses the story-line as the chapters unfold. Although a disclaimer at the front of the book assures the content is fictional, I understand that, as a writer, our writing is influenced by what we’ve lived or observed.

CLIMBING MOUNTAINS

It takes EJ a while to trust Russ, to realize that his Big Brother is not perfect and is there to support him. Russ doesn’t talk down to EJ, but rather listens to and encourages him, like they are equals in many ways. Eventually, EJ opens up about his goal to become a mountain climber. At this point, I wondered what Norbury was thinking by writing that into the plot. A Minnesota kid with no mountain climbing background wanting to climb Mount Everest?

Russ doesn’t dismiss EJ’s dream as insurmountable. Rather, he breaks the goal down into doable steps, starting first with training and then climbing Eagle Mountain. That mountain is real, the highest point in Minnesota, with much of the hiking trail to the summit running through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness.

ANXIOUS AND WORRIED

And that is where EJ and Russ end up, heading up, then down, the mountain. And this is where the tension thickens to the point that I am feeling anxious and worried. To elicit that response in the reader shows Norbury’s skills as a writer. The duo face challenges that test their strength and endurance, even threaten Russ’ life.

WE ALL NEED SOMEONE

I won’t spoil the book by revealing the outcome of that mountain hike. But know that the book ends in a heart-warming way. EJ has developed confidence, gained the acceptance and respect of his peers, and grown to understand that he can overcome, and do, anything. Sometimes it just takes someone, like Russ, believing in you and cheering you on, just as I expect Chris Norbury did for his little brothers.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“Reaching Orpheus,” a must-see original play about grief, loss & relationships April 5, 2024

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:41 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Promo for the world premiere of “Reaching Orpheus,” opening Friday, April 5, in Faribault. (Promo credit: Paradise Center for the Arts)

EIGHT MONTHS. How long has it been since you lost a loved one? For Alex, a lead in the play “Reaching Orpheus,” it’s been only eight months since she tragically lost her husband. For me, it’s been one week and four days since my sister’s husband, my brother-in-law Dale, died of cancer.

Thursday evening I attended the dress rehearsal of “Reaching Orpheus,” a drama scripted and directed by Dan Rathbun of Owatonna. The six-member cast debuts Rathbun’s third original play this evening at the Paradise Center for the Arts in Faribault. When I settled into my theater seat, I brought the raw emotions of new grief.

Alex (Innana Antley) and Ian (Dean Lamp) interact during a scene inside Wonky Leg Brewery. (Photo credit: Amber Holven)

The seasoned and talented cast brings that and much more to the stage as they share the universal experiences of grief, of loss. How we handle it. How we react to it. How we begin to live again in the face of deep loss. It’s there, all there, unfolding in dialogue inside a family brewery and in the mountains of Colorado. As director Rathbun writes in his director’s notes, “Rock climbing is an excellent metaphor for the struggle with grief.”

Alex and Sean (Samuel Temple), an engaged couple in real life, perform together for the first time in lead roles. (Photo credit Amber Holven)

Like Alex, we all struggle to climb our way out of grief. Just as Sean, who plays another lead role and who has experienced the tragic death of his sister, Sara, does. Sean runs the brewery with his father and also teaches mountain climbing.

This is a play in which any of us could perform the roles, portray the emotions. Not because all of us are skilled actors and actresses—most of us aren’t—but rather because we have all gone through the challenges shared on stage.

Playwright Rathbun and his cast of six cover the stages of grief, of loss: anger, denial, guilt, regrets, a desire to handle things on our own, escape… So much. So authentic. So relatable.

Certain lines imprinted upon me. Alex, who claims, “It’s fine. I’m fine.” She’s not.

Friends Alex and Abby (Jessica Bastyr). (Photo credit: Amber Holven)

And then her intense, well-meaning friend Abby, who says, “I’m happy to help.” She wants to help, to fix things, to make everything better for Alex. She doesn’t. Not initially.

And then there’s Ian, Sean’s dad, who follows the coping path of picking himself up, dusting himself off and going on with life after his daughter’s death, all the while ignoring his feelings and his volatile relationship with his son.

Sean tucks his feelings inside, until he slowly begins to open up to Alex, whom he’s teaching to mountain climb. Their conversations include phrases we’ve all heard, thought, spoken or written in the midst of grief: “I know how you feel.” I’m so sorry for your loss.” “It’s exhausting to be the strong one.”

Alex and James (Jason Meyer) in a tender moment. (Photo credit: Amber Holven)

Even James, Alex’s deceased husband, and Sara, Sean’s dead sister (played by Paula Jameson), offer their observations and thoughts in several scenes. There’s value in hearing their perspectives, too.

This thought-provoking play offers so much. Even humor. We all need laughter in the heaviness of loss. And we all need each other in the heaviness of grief. We all need to think, too, about how we respond to grief, the often trite sympathies we offer, the words we say that perhaps hurt more than comfort.

Beyond that, the playwright reminds us, via Sean, “…to tell people how much they mean to us every day.” Sean suggests we hold funerals before a person dies. That, too, I understand as I think back to my own mother and how we celebrated her 80th birthday nine years before her January 2022 death. I remember the family and friends who packed a small town community hall to honor my beloved mom. She felt so cherished and loved. I remember, too, my last visit with my brother-in-law, 3 ½ weeks before his March 25 death. He was well enough yet to sit up, engage in conversation, share memories. It was a good visit.

And today I think of a dear friend, bed-ridden, in hospice and dying of cancer. Her family, even through their pain, has opened their home to everyone, anyone, who wants to see their loved one. Each time I see my friend, deliver a meal to her family, I stand by her bedside, tell her, “I love you.” We laugh. We cry. And we never part without kisses placed upon each other’s cheeks.

Alex climbs the mountain, physically and emotionally. (Photo credit: Amber Holven)

This is grief. This is loss. This is love. “Reaching Orpheus” brings that all onto the stage. Deep and real, like the mountains we all must climb, have climbed.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling