Barn Bluff in Red Wing as photographed from Sorin’s Bluff in Memorial Park. Zoom in and you will see people on a path atop the bluff. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
AT THE BASE of He Mni Caɳ, also known as “Barn Bluff,” I contemplated whether to climb the 340-foot cliff rising high above the Mississippi River in southern Minnesota. It seemed like a good idea when Randy and I were considering just that on our drive from Faribault to Red Wing recently. But reality set in once we found the bluff, started up a steep pathway and determined that this might be a little much for two people pushing seventy. My vision issues and fear of heights also factored into discontinuing our hike.
An historic photo in an informational plaza shows teepees at the bluff’s base, circa 1840s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
While disappointed, I was still thankful we were here because He Mni Caɳ holds historical, cultural and sacred significance for the Bdewakantunwan Dakota Oyate, the Indigenous Peoples who originally inhabited this land. They lived on land below and around the bluff on the site of current-day Red Wing. They held ceremonies and rituals atop the bluff, also used for burial, shelter from enemies and more. This was, and always has been, a sacred place to the Dakota.
This sign welcomes visitors to Barn Bluff. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
That message is shared in an Entrance Plaza to He Mni Caɳ. There storytelling markers and seven towering pillars reveal details about this place and its importance to Native Americans. Via images, words and art, I began to learn, to understand. By learning, I am also honoring National Native American Heritage Month celebrated in November.
An overview of the seven columns rimming a center plaza at the base of Barn Bluff. That’s an aged power plant in the background. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
I admittedly did not read every single word and somehow missed noticing the buttons to push on the storytelling markers that would allow me to hear the spoken Dakota language. But I still gathered enough information, enough story, to recognize the value of this land to the Dakota and the respect we should all hold for them, their history and the sacred He Mni Caɳ, which is on the National Register of Historic Places.
The Mississippi River Valley is a place of remarkable natural beauty, here photographed from atop Sorin’s Bluff in Memorial Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
The city of Red Wing and the nearby Prairie Island Indian Community have partnered to preserve and honor this place along the Mississippi following the guiding principles of heal, sustain, educate and honor. I saw that and read that in the plaza.
A message highlighted on a plaza column. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
The pillars feature traditional Dakota patterns. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
Strong words on a storytelling marker. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
As I viewed the historic Dakota patterns on the seven plaza columns and walked around this history circle reading and photographing, words and phrases popped out at me: We are all related. Interconnectedness. Kinship and a shared landscape. If only, I thought, we would all hold those words close, remember them in our differences, remember them in our relationships with each other and with the earth, remember them in our struggles and disconnect.
A sculptured head tops a storytelling marker. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
The city of Red Wing is named after Tatanka Mani (“Walking Buffalo”), long ago leader of the Mdewakanton Dakota in the upper Mississippi River Valley. Early immigrants who settled in the area gave him that name. Tatanka Mani helped shape the history of this region through his decisions and leadership. He was clearly connected to his people, to the non-Natives who arrived here, and to the land.
A current-day view of Barn’s Bluff from high atop Sorin’s Bluff. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
Today He Mni Caɳ/Barn Bluff remains a major attraction in Red Wing, just as it was years ago for those traveling the river, exploring the region. Henry David Thoreau, Henry Schoolcraft and Zebulon Pike are among the countless who viewed the river and river valley below from atop the bluff.
Two of the storytelling markers at the entrance plaza and steps leading to paths that take hikers onto and up the bluff. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
But not me. I was content to stand at its base, to take in the history shared there. And then later to view the bluff from Sorin’s Bluff in Memorial Park, a park with a road leading to the top. Even then I settled for a partial ascent, because I’d had enough of heights on this day when He Mni Caɳ challenged me and I learned the history of this sacred place.
This shows a portion of the “Native American Ten Commandments” I found in a Waterville shop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
POKING AROUND IN SMALL TOWN Waterville on Saturday, I happened upon an unusual piece of wall art, “Native American Ten Commandments,” in a shop run by Ron, former hardware store owner and an interesting man with lots of stories to tell. I left feeling like he would be my go-to source for anything I ever wanted to know about Waterville.
But I didn’t ask Ron about the Native American wall art hanging so high on the wall I struggled to read and photograph it. Rather, I thought about this art and the title of the piece in the context of today, October 13, Indigenous Peoples Day in Minnesota, as proclaimed by Governor Tim Walz.
I considered how the words “Ten Commandments” seem more European than Native. Perhaps a different title would be more fitting for this summary of cultural and spiritual values. Despite that heading, I found the content of these “commandments” to be positive and reflective of Native beliefs and culture as I understand them to be.
These words popped out at me: earth, nature, respect, care, protect, honor, traditions, family and community.
We would all do well to read, then reread, those words and contemplate their importance. Today, more than ever, I feel like we need to reconnect with the land, to build community, to recognize the importance of respect.
Today I pause to remember and celebrate Native Americans, who lived here first, who have long held a spiritual closeness to the earth, who deserve this special day of honor, Indigenous Peoples Day.
The bald eagle I saw nearby within hours of arriving at a central Minnesota lake cabin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)
LAST SUMMER, LOON sightings proved common at a family member’s lake cabin south of Crosslake in north central Minnesota. This summer, not so much. While Randy and I heard the haunting call of loons during a recent stay, we only saw them twice—once a threesome swimming near shore and then two flying westward before a thunderstorm rolled in.
But bald eagle sightings more than made up for the absence of loons. We’d been at the cabin only hours when one swooped onto the top of a towering pine near the patio where we were enjoying late afternoon drinks with my sister-in-law. Randy pulled out his cellphone to snap a few photos. I stayed put since my 35 mm camera was back at the cabin. I reasoned that, by the time I walked to the cabin and back, the eagle would have flown away. That’s my usual luck.
And so we continued to chat and catch up on family news, the eagle all the while perched atop the tree like some silent eavesdropper. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. I headed to the cabin for my Canon, cautiously optimistic that the eagle would still be in the tree upon my return. It was.
Wings spread wide, the bald eagle lifts off from the treetop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)
I moved slowly away from the patio, pine tree and eagle in view, aimed my telephoto lens skyward and snapped a single frame before the eagle lifted off. I can only surmise that my camera lens appeared threatening to the observant bird with exceptional vision. An eagle can see an animal the size of a rabbit running from three miles away, according to the Wabasha-based National Eagle Center.
Nine minutes later, that same eagle was back, but in a different pine near the lake and on the other side of the patio. Once again, I managed one photo before the majestic bird took flight.
Two symbols of America: the flag and a bald eagle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)
I never tire of seeing eagles, whether flying or statue still. They are truly majestic. Regal. Commanding respect. And they are our national bird, a designation officially signed into law on December 23, 2024.
Throughout our week-long cabin stay, I observed bald eagles flying above Horseshoe Lake multiple times. Sometimes high above the water. Other times descending toward the surface, fishing for fish. I hoped I would see a fish grasped in eagle talons. I didn’t. Nor did I see the eagles any closer than that first afternoon at the lake.
On the drive back to Faribault, Randy and I spotted many eagles soaring above the land, especially around Mille Lacs Lake. I couldn’t help but think of the eagle’s spiritual and cultural importance among Native Americans. Strength. Courage. Wisdom. All are equated with eagles.
A bald eagle flies over Horseshoe Lake in the Brainerd lakes area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2025)
This wondrous national bird is so common now that I’m no longer surprised when I see one flying in and around Faribault or elsewhere in Rice County or in Minnesota. Yet, despite frequent sightings, I never tire of seeing a bald eagle. There’s something about this bird with an average wingspan of 6-7 ½ feet, piercing eyes and curved beak that makes me pause, take notice and appreciate their fierce, unyielding strength and beauty.
AS A WRITER, I bring my voice into my writing. My work is distinctively, authentically mine. Just as it is for most writers.
Recently I finished reading a novel, Where They Last Saw Her, by a Minnesota writer with an authentically strong Native American voice. It’s a voice we don’t often hear, which is perhaps why I find the writing of Marcie R. Rendon so compelling. She is a citizen of the White Earth Nation in north-central Minnesota.
I’ve read the first three books in her Cash Blackbear mystery series and am eagerly awaiting the release of her fourth in 2025. In the meantime, I found this stand-alone mystery set on the fictional Red Pine Reservation in northern Minnesota. As in her Cash series, the main character in Where They Last Saw Her, Quill, is a strong Native woman. Quill is the mother of two, a runner, and loyal friend to Punk and Gaylyn. And she is a woman who takes matters into her own hands when Indigenous women and children go missing.
The logo of the Minnesota Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives Office. (Image sourced online)
I wish that part—the missing women and children—was fictional. But it’s not. Rendon assures the reader understands that. The missing focus her book. In real life, between 27 and 54 American Indian women and girls in Minnesota were missing in any given month from 2012 to 2020. That’s according to the Minnesota Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives Office, an agency established in 2021 to provide support and resources to families and communities affected by such violence.
Rendon weaves a story that, if not for the disclaimer of “any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental,” could pass for the truth. As a writer, I understand that in every bit of fiction lies some truth. And this book seems to hold a lot of underlying truth in events, trauma, violence and much more.
I felt compelled to visit the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension’s missing person’s website, where I scrolled through a lengthy list of missing persons. There I found the names of three Native American women: Nevaeh Kingbird, last seen in Bemidji in October 2021. Sheila St. Clair, last seen in Duluth in August 2015. And then American Indian JoJo Boswell, gone missing in Owatonna in July 2005. I expected to find more based on the MMIR summary information. Perhaps I missed something in my surface search.
That brings me back to Rendon’s fictional story. In addition to providing me with a much deeper understanding of missing (including trafficked) Indigenous women and girls in a book that I didn’t want to put down, I learned more about the culture and language of First Nations peoples. Ojibwe words are scattered throughout the story. A glossary would be helpful. Customs, traditions and spiritual beliefs are also part of Rendon’s writing. All of that lends the authenticity I noted earlier. Only someone intimately familiar with Indigenous Peoples could write with such an authentic Native American voice.
I photographed this sign along the Cannon River in Northfield. St. Olaf College in Northfield is hosting several events during Native American Heritage Month. Click here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2024)
Environmental topics and pipeline construction (an actual controversial issue in Minnesota and North Dakota) also play into the plot of Where They Last Saw Her.
I’d encourage anyone who enjoys a good mystery, and who wants to become more informed, to read Where They Last Saw Her. This is a riveting read that rates as simultaneously heartrending.
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(Image source: The U.S. Department of the Interior Indian Affairs)
NOTE: November marks National Native American Heritage Month with a 2024 theme of “Weaving together our past, present and future.” Events are planned throughout the US, including right here in Minnesota (click here). Tuesday, November 19, is set aside as Red Shawl Day, a day to remember missing and murdered Indigenous people and to honor their families. Writer Marcie Rendon includes this wearing of red in her book, Where They Last Saw Her. Please take time this month to honor Indigenous people by learning, celebrating, respecting, remembering.
HER POEMS SING with the rhythm of a writer closely connected to land, heritage and history. She is Gwen Nell Westerman of Mankato, Minnesota poet laureate and author of Songs, Blood Deep, published by Duluth-based Holy Cow! Press.
Of Dakota and Cherokee heritage, Westerman honors her roots with poems that reflect a deep cultural appreciation for the natural world. The water. The sky. The seasons. The earth. The birds and animals. They are all there in her writing, in language that is down-to-earth descriptive. Readers can hear the birdsong, feel the breeze, see the morning light… That she pens nature poems mostly about the land of my heart—fields and prairie—endears me even more to her poetry.
This slim volume of collected poems is divided into seasons of the year, each chapter title written in the Dakota language. The book features multiple languages—Dakota, Cherokee, Spanish and English. That adds to its depth, showing that, no matter the language we speak, write or read, we are valued.
This silo mural in downtown Mankato celebrates the cultural diversity of the region, including the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)
Westerman clearly values her Native heritage, how lessons and stories have been passed to her through generations of women, especially. Songs, blood deep. In her poem “First Song,” she shares a lesson her grandmother taught her about the importance of sharing. After reading that thought-provoking poem, I considered how much better this world would be if we all focused on the singular act of sharing.
The Dakota 38 Memorial at Reconciliation Park in downtown Mankato lists the names of the 38 Dakota men hung at this site on December 26, 1862. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)
This poet, who is also a gifted textile artist (creator of quilts), wraps us in her words. In the season of waniyetu, her poetry turns more reflective and introspective, as one would expect in winter. She writes of family, injustices and more. “Song for the Generations: December 26” is particularly moving as that date in history references the mass execution of 38 Dakota sentenced to death in 1862 and hung in Mankato. Westerman writes of rising and remembering, of singing and prayer. It’s a truly honorable poem that sings of sorrow and strength.
Her poems remind us that this land of which she writes was home first to Indigenous Peoples. Westerman writes of a state park in New Ulm, the sacred Jeffers Petroglyphs and Fort Snelling, where Dakota were imprisoned after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862 and before their exile from Minnesota. The name of our state traces to Mni Sota Makoce, Dakota for “the land where the water reflects the sky.” It’s included in Westerman’s poetry.
I appreciate poems that counter the one-sided history I was taught. I appreciate Westerman’s style of writing that is gentle, yet strong, in spirit. Truthful in a way that feels forgiving and healing.
In the all of these poems, I read refrains of gratitude for the natural world, gratitude for heritage and gratitude for this place we share. We sang. We sing. Songs, blood deep.
FYI: Songs, Blood Deep, is a nominee for the 2024 Minnesota Book Award in poetry. The winner will be announced May 7. This is Westerman’s second poetry book. Her first: Follow the Blackbirds. In addition to writing poetry and creating quilts, Westerman teaches English, Humanities and Creative Writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato.
Jeff Jarvis shows an artifact while talking about the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
“WE’RE ALL CONNECTED. We’re all one.” Those closing words by local historian and artist Jeff Jarvis as he ended an hour-long presentation on “The Faribault Dakota” at Books on Central Thursday evening resonate. I’ve long been geographically-connected to Indigenous Peoples, first in my native Redwood County and now in Rice County. But Jarvis’ definition of connection stretches well beyond geography to the connection we all share simply via our humanity.
Jarvis, who is also an artist and graphic designer, handed out this mini guidebook at Thursday’s presentation. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Jarvis spoke to a standing room only crowd packed into the Rice County Area United Way used bookstore on Faribault’s Central Avenue. The third speaker in the popular literary event series hosted by the bookshop since its fall opening, his talk was more history than literary. Interest ran high.
My interest in the Dakota traces back to the southwestern Minnesota prairie, where I grew up between the Upper and Lower Sioux Indian Reservations. Today the word “community,” references these homes of the Mdewakanton Dakota. When I moved to Rice County 42 years ago, I moved onto land once inhabited by the Wahpakute Dakota. But it wasn’t until I listened to Jarvis speak that I learned even more about the place I initially called home on the southeastern tip of Cannon Lake west of Faribault.
Long before fur traders and settlers moved to this region of southern Minnesota, the Dakota called this land home, typically living along the area’s lakes and rivers, including the Cannon. I knew this; I’ve attended many presentations on the Dakota by local historians. But I wasn’t aware that the former Ackman Store, the rental home where Randy and I lived for 2 ½ years after our 1982 marriage, was near the site of a trading post opened by fur trader and town founder Alexander Faribault.
Native American artifacts found in Rice County and displayed at the Rice County Historical Society. These are not the artifacts shown by Jarvis. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)
Jarvis asked me after his presentation whether I saw ghosts while living there. I didn’t. And in a conversation with Lou Ackman, who grew up and lived along Cannon Lake and loaned Indian artifacts for Jarvis to show Thursday evening, I learned that people often searched the Ackmans’ farm fields for artifacts.
When Randy and I moved into Faribault, our geographic connection to Indigenous Peoples continued. We purchased a house below Wapacuta (sic) Park, where we still live today. It was upon this now park land that the Dakota placed their dead, (wrapped in buffalo robes or blankets) upon scaffolding until later burial. Jarvis also shared that the Dakota sometimes suspended wrapped bodies from trees to catch the spirits in the windy hilltop location prior to burial 1-2 years later. I’d never heard this prior to Thursday.
Peace Park, an unmarked Dakota cemetery near Buckham Memorial Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
But I was aware that Peace Park, a triangle of land near Buckham Memorial Library, is an Indian burial grounds. Jarvis termed it an unfenced and unrecognized cemetery marked by a faith-based WW II monument and nothing indicating this is sacred ground of the Dakota. Several bodies were discovered buried there in 1874, he said, not wanting to delve deeper into that troubling topic at Thursday’s event.
Jarvis covered a lot more in his one-hour presentation. Most I knew. Some I didn’t. I always appreciate learning local history, especially about the 300-400 Dakota who relocated from Cannon Lake to live in elm bark huts and teepees in the area along the Straight River from Division Street to the wastewater treatment plant.
The community of Faribault, Jarvis said, had/has a lot of color and was/is “a beckoning place” to many peoples. He referenced the Indigenous Peoples of yesteryear and the immigrants of today. “We’re all connected. We’re all one,” Jarvis said. He’s right.
One of two rainbows arches over Faribault Thursday evening. (Copyrighted photo by Randy Helbling April 2024)
As I stepped outside the bookshop after Jarvis’ talk, cloudy skies opened to reveal stunning double rainbows—a symbol of promise and of hope. A symbol that we all live under the same sky, that we’re all connected.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
IN THE PAST YEAR, my desire to learn more about Native American culture has heightened. My new interest followed a talk in September 2022 by then Rice County Historical Society Director Susan Garwood about “The Indigenous history of the land that is now Rice County, Minnesota.” This county, this community, in which I live was home first to Indigenous peoples, long before the first settlers, the fur traders, the Easterners who moved west.
This sculpture of Alexander Faribault and a Dakota trading partner stands in Faribault’s Heritage Park near the Straight River and site of Faribault’s trading post. Ivan Whillock created this art which sits atop the Bea Duncan Memorial Fountain. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I knew that, of course. But what I didn’t know was that the Wahpekute, one of the seven “Council Fires” of the Dakota Nation, used the current-day Wapacuta Park just up the hill from my house for honoring their dead.
This Faribault city park, where my kids once zipped down a towering slide, clamored onto a massive boulder, slid on plastics sleds, was where the Wahpekute many years ago placed their dead upon scaffolding prior to burial. That ground now seems sacred to me.
That it took 40 years of living here to learn this information suggests to me that either I wasn’t paying attention to local history or that my community has not done enough to honor the First Peoples of this land.
(Book cover sourced online.)
Whatever the reason, I have, on my own, decided to become more informed about Indigenous peoples. And for me, that starts with reading. I recently headed to the children’s section of my local library and checked out the book, The Forever Sky, written by Thomas Peacock (a member of the Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Anishinaabe Ojibwe) and illustrated by Annette S. Lee (mixed-race Lakota-Sioux of the Ojibwe and Lakota-Sioux communities).
These two Minnesotans, in their collaborative children’s picture book, reveal that “the sky and stars all have stories.” Oh, how I value stories. And the stories shared in this book, these sky stories, are of spirits and animals and the Path of Souls, aka The Milky Way, and…
I especially appreciate the book’s focus on the northern lights, explained as “the spirits of all of our relatives who have passed on.” The descriptive words and vivid images make me view the northern lights, which I have yet to see in my life-time, through the eyes of Indigenous peoples. The changing blues and greens are their loved ones dancing in the night sky. Dancing, dancing, dancing. How lovely that imagery in replacing loss with hope and happiness.
The Forever Sky has created an awareness of Native culture previously unknown to me. Just like that talk a year ago by a local historian aiming to educate. I have much to learn. And I am learning via books found not only in the adult section of the library, but also among the children’s picture books. That writers and illustrators are covering topics of cultural importance in kids’ books gives me hope for the future. My grandchildren, even though they will never see the vast, dark, star-filled sky I saw nightly as a child of the prairie, are growing up much more informed. They will understand cultures well beyond their own heritage. And that encourages me.
I happened upon this book while searching for recently-published astronaut and geography books for my 4-year-old grandson. I never did find those sought-after titles. Not that it mattered. What I discovered instead were three must-read books: My Powerful Hair, Boycott Blues—How Rosa Parks Inspired a NationandWe Are Better Together.
Parks is certainly familiar to me as the Black seamstress who in 1955 refused to give up her seat to a white man on a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama. That sparked a bus boycott and the Civil Rights Movement. Likewise, working together to effect change, to improve our world, to help one another is a familiar theme.
“The Native Man, His Eagle & His Chanupa,” an oil painting by Dana Hanson and part of her 2018 “Healing the Land” exhibit at the Owatonna Arts Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2018, used for illustration only. Art copyrighted by Dana Hanson.)
THE IMPORTANCE OF HAIRREVEALED
It is the story on hair, though, which proved a particularly teachable read. My Powerful Hair focuses on Native Peoples’ hair and its importance in their culture, their history, their lives. Through the writing of New York Times bestselling and award-winning author Lindstrom, who is Anishinaabe/Metis (and an enrolled citizen of the Turtle Mountain Band of Ojibwe), and Indigenous artist Littlebird of Oregon’s Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, I learned the symbolism and power of hair in Native American culture. Admittedly, this is something I should have known, having grown up on the southwestern Minnesota prairie between the Upper Sioux and Lower Sioux Indian Reservations (today termed “communities”). I thought I was informed. But I wasn’t, not about hair.
Told from the perspective of a young Native girl, My Powerful Hair explains the reasons Native Peoples grow their hair long. And keep it long. Hair holds stories, memories, strength, sorrow, connections to each other and to Mother Earth. And more. Page after page, the narrator shares events in her life that weave into her hair. When Nimishoomis (her grandfather) taught her to fish, her hair reached her ears. When her cousins taught her to make moccasins, her hair flowed past her shoulders. In the sharing of these moments, I began to understand the power of hair in Native American culture.
A photo panel at the Traverse des Sioux Treaty Center in St. Peter shows Dakota leaders photographed in Washington D.C. in 1858. The photo is from the Minnesota Historical Society and is used here for illustration only.
FORCED HAIRCUTS
I also understood fully, for the first time, the trauma inflicted upon Indigenous individuals forced long ago by white people to cut their hair. The writer and illustrator don’t hold back. In the first few pages, a young Nokomis (grandmother) is in tears as the hands of a Catholic nun grasp, then cut, her braids. It’s an emotionally impactful visual.
But this was reality at Indian boarding schools, within faith communities and elsewhere back in the day, in a time period when efforts focused on erasing Indigenous culture, on conforming Native Peoples to European ways. It was wrong.
Displayed at Bridge Square during Northfield’s Earth Day celebration in 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022, used for illustration only)
“A TERRIBLE INJUSTICE”
A blogger friend from the central Minnesota lakes region recently shared a bit of her family’s experience per my request. Of unverified (records were often destroyed) Cherokee ancestry, Rose speaks of her mother’s trauma after being sent to a Catholic girls’ school in Crookston. “Mom didn’t tell us much about her experience there,” Rose says, “only that they made her cut her long black hair. My mom never cut her hair again for the rest of her life. She saw the forced haircut as a terrible injustice.” Injustice seems a fitting word.
In an author’s note, Carole Lindstrom shares the same trauma, documented, she writes, in a photo of her grandmother and two great aunts with their black hair shorn above their ears. They were forced into an Indian boarding school in the early 1900s.
“Honoring the Legacy of the Dakota People” focuses this artwork by Dana Hanson. Chief Taopi centers the painting with Alexander Faribault to the left and Bishop Henry Whipple on the right. The word “Yuonihan” means honor or respect. This art hangs inside Buckham Memorial Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2022. Art copyrighted by Dana Hanson.)
POWER IN STORIES, IN HERITAGE, IN RESPECT
Rose is thankful for books like My Powerful Hair. “I am glad that stories like this are being told,” she says. “Much First Nations history nearly disappeared. And many First Nations keep their ceremonies and other information ‘secret’ so it won’t be distorted or misused by people who don’t understand, or who seek to harm them.” Based on history, that seems warranted.
This Minnesota woman has one more reason to feel grateful for children’s picture books by Indigenous Peoples. Her grandchildren are of Ojibwe heritage; their other grandmother lives on the White Earth Nation in northwestern Minnesota. “My hopes for my grandchildren are that they learn all they can about their Ojibwe ancestors and customs and values,” Rose says. “I hope they can choose what lessons they want to carry forward in their own life. I hope they are fantastic examples of how people from different backgrounds can get along and respect and love one another.”
And so I learned, not only from Rose, but from reading My Powerful Hair. Stories woven into our hair matter. For they are powerful.
A painting of Bishop Henry Whipple and information about him grace a mural on Faribaults’ Central Park Bandshell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2020)
He was known as “Straight Tongue” for his honesty. He was disparagingly called “The Sympathizer” by others for the compassion and care he held for the Dakota. He was Bishop Henry Whipple.
Thursday evening, Rice County Historical Society Executive Director David Nichols spoke to a packed room about this Episcopal priest who played such a pivotal role in Minnesota history, specifically during the time shortly before, and then after, The U.S.-Dakota War of 1862. For me, personally, Nichols’ focused talk connected my home region of Redwood County, the area in which the war centered, to my home of 40 years, Rice County.
I grew up with a limited (white) perspective of the war with no knowledge of Whipple. I only learned of this New York born clergyman upon my move to Faribault in 1982. Nichols broadened my understanding during his presentation and during a question and answer session that followed.
A panel at the Traverse des Sioux Treaty Center in St. Peter shows Dakota leaders photographed in Washington D.C. in 1858. The photo is from the Minnesota Historical Society. It references broken treaty promises and rising tension. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
HIGH TENSIONS
Whipple arrived here in 1860 as the newly-elected Bishop of Minnesota, settling in Faribault. Already at that time, tensions were mounting among settlers and the first peoples of Minnesota, Nichols said. Tensions also existed between the “Farmer Indians” (those who adapted to Euro culture) and “Blanket Indians” (who maintained their Native culture, traditions and lifestyle). Conditions on reservations were terrible with disease, starvation, and dishonest agents failing to provide promised government annuities.
That is the situation Whipple found when he landed in Minnesota. It was a time, noted Nichols, of “tensions about to boil over.” And eventually they did with the outbreak of war in August 1862. It was a decidedly bloody and awful war, as all wars are. Some 600-800 died and the Dakota were eventually displaced from their land.
Details on a sign outside The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour, Whipple’s church in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2020)
THE SHAPING OF A HUMANITARIAN
To understand Whipple’s position and part in this, Nichols provided background. Whipple was involved in New York politics as a “conservative Democrat,” a term which drew laughter from the crowd at Thursday’s presentation. He briefly attended Oberlin College, notable because the college was among the earliest to admit women and African Americans. And Whipple was ordained in 1849, during the so-called “Second Great Awakening” with a focus on civil rights.
Learning this helped me better understand the bishop. All of these experiences shaped a man who spoke with honesty and compassion, advocated for Minnesota’s Indigenous Peoples (both the Dakota and the Ojibwe, natural enemies), called for reform and peace and understanding. Whipple was, said Nichols, a voice for calm, calling for justice, not vengeance, when the short-lived U.S.-Dakota War ended.
Words on a marker in Reconciliation Park in Mankato where 38 Dakota + 2 were hung on Dec. 26, 1862. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2012)
ADVOCATING FOR PARDONS
In his many years of missionary work and advocacy, even when his life was threatened by those who viewed him as an “Indian sympathizer,” one singular moment stands out to me. And that is Whipple’s efforts to save the lives of 303 Dakota men sentenced to death after the war. He met with President Abraham Lincoln and was “partly responsible,” Nichols said, for Lincoln’s eventual pardon of all but 38 Dakota. The 38, plus two others, were hung in a public mass execution in Mankato on December 26, 1862. It is a terrible and profoundly awful moment in Minnesota history, especially the history of the Dakota.
A full view of the bandshell mural featuring Bishop Whipple and his first wife, Cornelia, and his second wife, Evangeline. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
ASSIMILATION
While listening to Nichols’ presentation on Whipple, I felt conflicted. Conflicted because the bishop was, he said, “a strong assimilationist.” That label bothered me until I talked further with Nichols. He explained that Whipple did not view himself and Europeans as superior to Native Peoples, but rather observed, in the context of place and time and thinking, the need to adapt versus being driven out. That helped me better understand Whipple’s approach. I recognize, though, and acknowledge the current-day struggles with assimilation, especially as it relates to Indian boarding schools. I appreciate the recognition of, and return to, culture, tradition and heritage today.
“Faribault’s Founding Fathers,” portraits of Alexander Faribault, left to right, Chief Taopi and Bishop Henry Whipple, by Dana Hanson hangs in Faribault’s Buckham Memorial Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2022)
WELCOMING THE DAKOTA TO FARIBAULT, OR NOT
Whipple, by his words and actions, embraced the Dakota and Ojibwe who called Minnesota home long before white settlers arrived, long before he moved to Faribault. My community, founded by fur trader Alexander Faribault, himself half Dakota, was a safe haven for the Dakota (“you don’t attack family”) during the 1862 war and thereafter, Nichols said. Faribault and Whipple worked together to move 180 Dakota from St. Paul’s Fort Snelling, where they were held following the war, to live on land Alexander owned along the Straight River in Faribault.
I wondered, “Were they welcomed here?” The answer, given by former RCHS Executive Director Susan Garwood, was as I expected. Mixed. While some supported the Dakota’s presence in Faribault, others were vocal in their opposition. In that moment, I thought of our ever-growing immigrant population in my community. Many welcome our newest neighbors and, like Alexander Faribault and Bishop Henry Whipple, support and encourage them. But many also want them gone. History repeats.
An inscription honors Whipple on the Cathedral bell tower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2020)
MARKING HISTORY
Walk around Faribault today and you will see many reminders of the work Whipple did not only locally, but across Minnesota. Historical markers and inscriptions about the bishop grace The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour, his faith base. He’s buried under the altar there. Across the street at Central Park, Whipple-themed murals cover the west side of the historic bandshell. Downtown, one of many history-focused benches honors Whipple. And across town, at the Chapel of the Good Shepherd on the campus of Shattuck-St. Mary’s School, a marker notes his role in founding Shattuck and other schools in Faribault.
Efforts are underway now locally to recognize the Dakota as well, to publicly mark their place in the history of Faribault. I’d like to think Bishop Henry Whipple, also known as “Straight Tongue” and “The Sympathizer,” would welcome the idea, would even step up to fund raise, just as he did some 160 years ago to support the relocation of 180 Dakota from Fort Snelling to Faribault.
“Faribault’s Founding Fathers,” Alexander Faribault (left to right), Chief Taopi and Bishop Henry Whipple, painted by Dana Hanson. “Yuonihan” means honor or respect. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2022. Art copyrighted by Dana Hanson.)
MY LIBRARY, BUCKHAM MEMORIAL in Faribault, features dozens of art pieces by local artists scattered throughout the building. I’ll admit that I really don’t even notice the art any more in my frequent visits to the library. Like anything, after time, familiarity begets overlooking.
But that all changed recently when I looked across the library to the west by the adult fiction and saw a work of art I hadn’t previously noticed. It’s been there for about a year. Yet, just now, I happened to see Dana Hanson’s original art piece, “Faribault’s Founding Fathers.” I strode across the library toward the high-hanging portrait piece and took pause.
Dana Hanson’s artist statement posted at the 2016 Artgo! art show at Buckham Center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2016)
I first met Dana, who specializes in portraits, in 2015 during Faribault’s summer Concerts in the Park weekly outdoor music series at Central Park. Local artists were invited to paint on-site and Dana was among them. She has since moved away from Faribault.
A close-up of Dana’s “The Native Man, His Eagle & His Chanupa,” an oil painting exhibited in Owatonna in 2018. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)
Eventually, her art started showing up in exhibits—at Buckham Center, at the Paradise Center for the Arts and at the Owatonna Arts Center. Her work ranged from faith-inspired to celebrity (like Bob Dylan, Prince and Judy Garland) and Native American portraits and more. In Owatonna, her “Healing the Land” exhibit several years ago focused on the Dakota people.
Up close with Chief Taopi, center, and Bishop Henry Whipple, right. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2022)
So when I saw the recently-donated 2019 painting of Faribault’s founding fathers, I was not at all surprised. Dana holds a heart full of gratitude, love and compassion for Indigenous peoples. That shows in her art, including in these portraits of Chief Taopi, a member of the Little Crow Band of the Mdewakanton Dakota Tribe; town founder Alexander Faribault, “friend and protector” of the Dakota; and Bishop Henry Whipple, “Spiritual Father and Humanitarian” and “Advocate for the Native Americans.”
Another example of Dana’s art, MESSENGERS OF HOPE with the horses subtitled, from left to right, “Light,” “Passion Fire” and “Grace.” These were exhibited at the Paradise Center for the Arts in 2017. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2017.
“Protector of the 38 + 2,” an oil on canvas by Dana Hanson and previously displayed in Owatonna. Her art honors the 38 Dakota men who were hung in Mankato following the US-Dakota War of 1862. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)
Chief Taopi, who centers Dana’s portrait trio, was a leader among his people and a member of a Peace Party during the US-Dakota War of 1862. Eventually he landed in Faribault, living on land owned by founder and fur trader Alexander Faribault. Taopi and the Bishop forged a strong friendship also. The Dakota chief died in 1869 and is buried at Maple Lawn Cemetery in Faribault.
Now, to see these three men honored via a painting in a place of learning, a place of connection, a place where history writes onto pages, reminds me of their importance in my community. In the familiarity of the library and during this, Native American Heritage Month, I need to pause, appreciate and respect those who shaped this place I’ve called home for 40 years.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Thoughts on Indigenous Peoples Day from Minnesota October 13, 2025
Tags: "Native American Ten Commandments", commentary, Indigenous Peoples' Day, Minnesota, Native Americans, opinion, Waterville
POKING AROUND IN SMALL TOWN Waterville on Saturday, I happened upon an unusual piece of wall art, “Native American Ten Commandments,” in a shop run by Ron, former hardware store owner and an interesting man with lots of stories to tell. I left feeling like he would be my go-to source for anything I ever wanted to know about Waterville.
But I didn’t ask Ron about the Native American wall art hanging so high on the wall I struggled to read and photograph it. Rather, I thought about this art and the title of the piece in the context of today, October 13, Indigenous Peoples Day in Minnesota, as proclaimed by Governor Tim Walz.
I considered how the words “Ten Commandments” seem more European than Native. Perhaps a different title would be more fitting for this summary of cultural and spiritual values. Despite that heading, I found the content of these “commandments” to be positive and reflective of Native beliefs and culture as I understand them to be.
These words popped out at me: earth, nature, respect, care, protect, honor, traditions, family and community.
We would all do well to read, then reread, those words and contemplate their importance. Today, more than ever, I feel like we need to reconnect with the land, to build community, to recognize the importance of respect.
Today I pause to remember and celebrate Native Americans, who lived here first, who have long held a spiritual closeness to the earth, who deserve this special day of honor, Indigenous Peoples Day.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling