Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Commentary: I care about my neighbors, a free press, freedom & more December 3, 2025

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Protesting in Northfield at a NO KINGS rally. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2025)

I CAN’T IGNORE the news. I want to, no, need to, know what’s happening on all levels from local to international. Perhaps it’s my innate curiosity or my journalism background that compels me to read and watch media reports. I feel an obligation, especially in these challenging times, to be as informed as possible.

What I’ve been hearing and reading from the federal government in Washington DC continues to concern me. Deeply. I can hardly believe the rhetoric, the hatred, the awfulness that is flowing like hot lava from fiery mouths upon this land.

Somali women walk through downtown Faribault during a community event. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The latest is the hatred directed by our president toward Somalis living in America, including some 80,000 in Minnesota. My community of Faribault is home to many Somali Americans. The president has singled out Somalis in Minnesota with his derogatory words and planned, targeted ICE raids here. I am proud of the mayors of Minneapolis and St. Paul and other leaders, including the Minneapolis police chief, for speaking up and standing strong for the Somali community during a Tuesday afternoon news conference. They recognize the threat to this specific demographic. And they value the Somalis who call Minnesota home.

“Who,” I ask, “will be next? Me, because my eyes are green?” Maybe he doesn’t care for green-eyed people. Or you? Because he doesn’t like something about you.

This is a pig, not a female journalist. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

He certainly doesn’t care for journalists, especially female journalists. I realize a dislike of journalists is nothing new. But this president has gone well beyond “dislike” to outright meanness, bullying and name-calling. I never thought I would see the day when the leader of our country would chastise a reporter with “Quiet, piggy.” I never thought I would hear an American president call a reporter fat or terrible or ugly or any other adjective while hissing “fake news” at the media.

Bracelets against censorship and for rights. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2025)

When the U.S. government launched a Media Bias page on the official White House website just days ago, I felt nothing short of outraged. This is the United States of America, where freedom of the press ought to mean something, where the media is independent of the government, where reporters have a right and a duty to accurately report the truth without fear of intimidation, public shaming, recrimination,… This newest tactic of naming a “Media Offender of the Week” ought to anger every single person in this country. I don’t care what side of the political aisle you sit on. This latest action speaks to censorship, to controlling the press, to propaganda, to anything but democracy.

I value freedom. I hope you do, too, enough to stand up for a free press, individual rights, freedom from fear, intimidation, oppression and all that threatens us. These are unprecedented times (yes, I recognize that may be an overused word, but it fits) in our country. I refuse to remain silent.

THOUGHTS?

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“Love your neighbor,” Part I from Northfield November 17, 2025

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Photographed many years ago in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used here for illustration only)

MY SUNDAY BEGAN as most Sundays do with morning worship at my church. The sermon highlighted sections of Mark 12, which includes this verse: Love your neighbor as yourself. That would theme the rest of my day.

Hours later I found myself gathered with others for the annual Rice County Salvation Army Red Kettle Campaign Kickoff. Again, the focus was on neighbors, specifically helping our neighbors in need.

Shortly after that event, Randy and I were on the road to neighboring Northfield for a 5 pm candlelight prayer vigil at Bridge Square. That, too, was about loving our neighbors. This time the gathering focused on supporting the family of Adan Nunez Gonzalez, a 41-year-old father of four snatched by masked Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents at gunpoint on November 11 in a residential neighborhood of Northfield. That incident has sparked outrage in this southern Minnesota college town and beyond.

Several family members and others witnessed Nunez Gonzalez being pulled from the passenger side of a vehicle while he was arriving at a job site along Washington Street. He’s a painter, originally from Mexico, with reportedly no criminal record who has been living in the US for 11 years. The entire incident was captured on video by his teenage son, called to the scene, and has been widely-circulated on social media. Nunez Gonzalez is now being held in the Kandiyohi County Jail. That county is among eight in Minnesota assisting with various aspects of ICE enforcement efforts. My county of Rice is not among them.

Attendees gather at Bridge Square as the candlelight prayer vigil is about to begin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2025)

HEAVY, YET HOPEFUL, HEARTS

The mood at Sunday’s prayer vigil felt heavy, yet hopeful, as some 200 of us gathered in the town square for this event organized by the Northfield faith community. As the sun set, as the nearby Cannon River roared over the dam, candles were distributed, lit and the crowd pressed together around a monument honoring Civil War soldiers. In late September, football players from Carleton College, blocks away, met here to turn the eagle atop the monument toward their college after defeating across-town rival St. Olaf College. It’s an annual celebratory tradition for the winning team.

Bridge Square has long been a community gathering spot, a place to celebrate, to peacefully protest, to meet one another for local events.

On this mid-November evening, it felt right and necessary to be here. To pray. To sing. To hear scripture quoted. To contemplate the gravity of ICE actions that have traumatized, torn families apart, instilled fear in communities across the country, raised the ire and concerns of many Americans like me who care about our neighbors and how they are being unjustly treated. Taken by armed, masked ICE agents and Border Patrol. Confined. Deported. Without due process of law.

Clergy gather before the start of the prayer vigil. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2025)

A COMMUNITY RESPONDS

I felt the unity of a community determined to raise their voices and to take action. Northfielders have fed the family of their detained neighbor, organized activities for his children, started a GoFundMe to cover legal and other expenses, emailed support, expressed outrage and much more.

Love your neighbor as yourself was emphasized by clergy leading the vigil. One after another they stepped up to the mic, the first pastor leading us in The Lord’s Prayer. One referenced the biblical parable of the mustard seed and how we are to plant seeds of hope, faith, advocacy that will grow sturdy and strong among us. Another spoke of Jesus and his family fleeing to Egypt after his birth following threats from King Herod to find and kill all first-born males. It was fitting.

Another view of the crowd, not all of it, but a section of the attendees. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2025)

A BIBLICAL DIRECTIVE

And then there was the well-known scripture from Matthew 25 in which Jesus asks us to care for one another—when hungry or thirsty, in need of clothing, when sick and in prison. It is as strong a directive as any in the bible to love our neighbors and to show that love in kind, caring and compassionate action.

The 25-minute Sunday evening prayer vigil closed with singing of “This Little Light of Mine.” Voices rose clear and strong in the darkness, arms stretched high, each hand grasping a single candle. A light. Many candles shining lights of support, hope, protest, resistance, outrage and more in a community that cares deeply about its neighbors.

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NOTE: Please check back for a second “Love your neighbor” post, this one on the Salvation Army Red Kettle Campaign Kickoff. Also, note that the vigil images in this post were taken with my smartphone, thus the quality is not great compared with pix I would have taken with my 35 mm Canon. I left that at home, opting to be in the moment.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When an out-of-control vehicle crashes into your yard, nearly missing your house September 17, 2025

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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 sidewalk and a track across the lawn from 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.

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NOTE: Nighttime images were taken with cellphones, thus the low quality.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

As school starts for most in Minnesota September 2, 2025

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I photographed this creative back-to-school front window display at Owatonna Shoes Monday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

HOW WELL I REMEMBER the first day of classes at the start of a new school year. Decades ago as a student. Then as a parent of three. And now as a grandparent.

As a student, I felt excited. Nervous. Happy. I remember the sharp tips of new Crayola crayons. The discomfort of new shoes. Piles of multi-colored notebooks awaiting words.

As a mom, I remember worrying if my kids would catch the right bus, make friends, like their teachers.

But none of that matches the concerns I feel today as the grandmother of a first grader and a fourth grader who begin classes Tuesday morning in a community in the south metro. The deadly shooting of two students and injury of 21 others (including three octogenarian worshipers) during a morning back-to-school Mass last week at Annunciation Catholic Church in south Minneapolis weighs heavy on all of us.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

Children, teachers and staff should feel and be safe in school. Parents should never have to wonder if their children will come home. Grandparents shouldn’t have to worry how their children, their grandchildren, are going to navigate all of this.

But school violence is all too real. And it shouldn’t be. I invite you to read a blog post by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson (click here), a mother, grandmother, writer, photographer, poet and activist. She writes with passion and clarity about the Annunciation shooting and gun violence, including steps we can take to change things. Kathleen’s words are powerful and move us to a place of action with the strong word, “Demand.”

As someone who grew up in Minneapolis, Kathleen writes from the heart. She is grieving. Angry. Frustrated. Just like me. Just like so many of us in Minnesota and beyond.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2025)

To the politicians out there who put guns before kids and who vote against funding for mental health programs, pause for a moment and assess your priorities. Walk in the shoes of kids, parents, grandparents, teachers. And then think of Fletcher Merkel, 8, and Harper Moyski, 10, shot to death in a Minneapolis church during the first week of classes at Annunciation Catholic School.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The day after a mass shooting…thoughts from Minnesota August 28, 2025

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:53 AM
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An inspirational word in an art installation honoring Barb Larson, shot and killed in 2016 inside her workplace, the Faribault Area Chamber of Commerce & Tourism. Used here for illustration only. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

IN MY BIBLE, I highlight verses that resonate with me, that inspire, that uplift and offer hope. Those include Jeremiah 29:11. It reads: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. In faith communities, this specific scripture is often directed to youth, who are our future.

On Wednesday morning those words written by the prophet Jeremiah were shared by Matt DeBoer, principal of Annunciation Catholic School in south Minneapolis, following a mass shooting at the adjacent church. The shooter fired from outside through stained glass windows into the church, killing two students and wounding 18 others, including three parishioners in their eighties. All were attending a back-to-school morning Mass.

The churning Straight River, visually reflective of what we’re feeling now in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

“NEVER AGAIN”

This act of gun violence is nothing short of horrific. No one can deny that. Fletcher, 8, and Harper, 10, are dead. Seven others were critically injured, taken to a level 1 trauma center. All are expected to survive. The level of pain and grief and anger, yes, anger, we are feeling collectively in Minnesota right now is palpable.

In all the media coverage I’ve watched and read, I keep circling back to Principal DeBoer and his message at a late Wednesday morning press conference hours after the shooting. He shared the school’s Jeremiah 29 based theme for 2025-2026 of “a future filled with hope.” Hope happens to be one of my favorite words, but not one I personally relate to a mass shooting. Yet on Wednesday morning, the principal called for all of us to look to the future with hope, because we can’t change the past. I listened. I heard. I heard him say, “Never again.” I heard DeBoer ask us to commit those two words to our speech pattern. “Never again.”

And I heard, too, his call for action as he referenced this African proverb: When you pray, move your feet.

As the day progressed into evening vigils, I continued to watch television coverage. Clergy led a prayer service at the Academy of Holy Angels, a nearby private Catholic high school that Annunciation students often attend beginning in ninth grade. In a message also themed to hope, Archbishop Bernard Hebda mentioned the broad support received from those of all faiths—Protestants, Jews, Muslims… And from Pope Leo XIV. I would expect nothing less. We are all hurting.

Another vigil followed at Lynnhurst Park. As I watched television coverage begin, I focused on the diverse crowd. A young girl seated on the ground clutching a teddy bear. A priest in a wheelchair. Attendees sheltering flickering candles with their hands. People in bright orange t-shirts emblazoned with “Protect Minnesota.” Photographers working. A woman in a black tee with the simple word, “Enough,” and a slash drawn through a circled gun. Instrumental music played—”Bridge Over Troubled Water”—setting an introspective mood.

“Doing something” must be about our kids. Photo used for illustration only. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

“WE NEED TO…”

And then the line up of speakers stepped up, addressing the crowd. The mood at this vigil was decidedly different. This gathering focused on a call to action in oftentimes fiery and emotional speeches by politicians and local leaders calling for stronger gun laws. In all the thoughts shared, Minnesota Lieutenant Governor Peggy Flanagan’s message rose to the top for me. While she spoke the usual “You are not alone” and “Enough is enough,” here’s the one soundbite that sticks with me: “We need to love our babies and our children more than our guns.” That bears repeating. “We need to love our babies and our children more than our guns.”

On this, the morning after the murder of two children and wounding of 17 others at Annunciation Catholic Church less than an hour from my Faribault home, I reflect on Flanagan’s words. And I think of my own two elementary-aged grandchildren starting the new school year on Tuesday. I want them to feel, to be, safe. I want this gun violence to end. As the mayor of Minneapolis said, his is “a city united in grief,” which must now become “a city united in action.”

I hold hope that perhaps this time something will change. I understand that gun violence is complicated, that it involves addressing the root causes of such violence. Yet, if not for the guns—three used in the Minneapolis shooting—two children would still be alive.

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This story has been updated to include the first names of the two children killed in the shooting. Their names were released late Thursday afternoon. The number of injured has also been updated to 18.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My heart breaks after another mass shooting, this time at a Minneapolis church/school August 27, 2025

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:34 PM
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I’ve photographed many stained glass windows in churches. I looked through my archives and found this image of a window at Mother of Good Counsel Votive Chapel, LaCrosse, Wisconsin and it struck me as fitting for this post. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2015)

I HAD MY MORNING PLANNED. Wash sheets and towels and hang them on the line. Pay bills. Write a blog post. I finished the laundry. But then all activity stopped and my attention focused to breaking news—a mass shooting in south Minneapolis.

For hours I’ve watched media coverage of events unfolding at Annunciation Catholic Church and School in south Minneapolis. Early today two school children were shot and killed during morning Mass. Seventeen others were injured, among them two adults. Four required surgery. Seven were in critical condition at Hennepin County Medical Center, a level one trauma center. Several went to other hospitals.

My heart breaks for the families, friends and classmates of the eight and 10-year-olds who were killed. My heart breaks for all who were part of and witness to this violence. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey and Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara, who spoke at a press conference, echoed the same. Their pain and anguish were evident in their words, their voices breaking with emotion.

I was especially touched by Mayor Frey’s message that we must go beyond simply saying “thoughts and prayers” because, as he stated, these kids were literally in church praying. He’s right. I believe in prayer. But I also believe that caring and compassionate action must accompany prayer. Frey called upon all of us to wrap our arms around the affected families, to love and support them. These are not only Minneapolis families affected, but American families, he said, adding that these shootings happen far too often.

According to officials, the gunman, dressed in black and armed with a rifle, shotgun and pistol, fired from the outside through church stained glass windows, hitting victims sitting in the pews. The man, in his early 20s and with no known criminal record, is dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, according to the police chief.

Both the mayor and police chief used the word “evil” when describing this morning’s shooting. They also used words like “deliberate act of violence,” “unspeakable act,” and “unthinkable tragedy.” We’ve heard those words way too often following mass shootings that have occurred way too often. Once is too often.

My day goes on, not as I planned, but tinged now with deep sadness. I can’t shake the images of children emerging from Annunciation School with their parents, hands clasped, faces showing the deep pain they are feeling. They are forever changed.

This is tough. All of it. Something must change.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hearing, listening & the drone of war August 14, 2025

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

IF I LISTEN CLOSELY, I can hear the incessant chirp of crickets beneath the steady drone of traffic rushing past my house. I live along a busy street, where noise is a constant except in the deep hours of the night. Even then, though, the lone blare of a siren may pierce the night silence, enough to awaken me.

I hear lots of sounds. But that’s not the same as listening. There’s a difference. Hearing is simply taking in sound waves. But listening requires intentional focus. Not only physically hearing, but also paying attention, picking up on verbal and non-verbal cues, remaining quiet.

Many of us are not particularly good at listening. It requires discipline, silence and an understanding that whatever we hear holds significance. Chirping crickets signal the end of summer. Screeching sirens indicate an emergency. And when someone is speaking to me, it means they have something to say. And I need to listen.

I consider myself to be a pretty good listener. As a journalist, I really honed my listening skills, a necessity in covering any news story, doing any interview. And on a personal level, I’ve always been more interested in what others are saying than in hearing my own voice.

Therein lies the problem. Too many of us like the sound of our own voices. If someone starts sharing their own story, their own challenges, we tend to interject our own stories. That’s when a push “pause” seems appropriate. Our listening skills need to kick in as we clamp our lips in silence and remember that the conversation is not about us.

So all of this leads me to the meeting between President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin on Friday in Anchorage, Alaska, to discuss the war in Ukraine. Noticeably absent will be Ukrainian leader Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Now you’d think, given the war is raging in Ukraine, that Zelenskyy should be at the table. He asked to be there. But, if the two other leaders heard, they didn’t listen. A pre-meeting conversation between Trump and Zelenskyy isn’t the same as including the Ukrainian president in the summit.

From all accounts, the Trump administration is now billing Friday’s meeting as a “listening exercise.” I find that to be an interesting choice of words. I can’t imagine that either Trump or Putin will really be “listening,” based on past meetings between the two and observations I’ve made about them. But, hey, maybe this time they really will hear the crickets chirping above the drone of war, the blaring of sirens.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The powerful messages delivered during the funeral of Minnesota lawmaker Melissa Hortman & her husband, Mark June 28, 2025

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I RUSHED HOME from the grocery store late Saturday morning to watch the live broadcast of the funerals of Melissa and Mark Hortman, shot to death in their Minnesota home two weeks ago during an apparent politically-motivated assassination. Melissa was Minnesota’s Speaker of the House, a respected politician, but, more importantly, a beloved wife, mother, daughter, friend, neighbor and more. Much more.

The private service at the Basilica of Saint Mary in Minneapolis revealed the professional and personal sides of the Hortmans with stories shared during eulogies after the Catholic Mass. Laughter rang through the massive church, filling the spaces between grief.

I jotted down 3 ½ pages of notes, not only to share information with you, but also because I focus better, retain more, by doing that. It’s also the reporter in me emerging.

HERE FOR EACH OTHER IN OUR GRIEF

So what stood out? A lot.

First, it was a recognition that we are all grieving. Individually. Collectively, as a state. “Nothing conveys love and support more than presence,” presiding pastor, Father Daniel Griffith, told those packing the pews. That included former President Joe Biden and former Vice President Kamala Harris, sitting in the front row next to Minnesota Governor Tim Walz and Gwen Walz. The Hortmans’ adult children, Colin and Sophie, and other family sat just across the aisle.

LIGHT & HOPE IN DARKNESS

The remarkable strength of Colin and Sophie continues to stand out. Rev. Griffith noted the courage and grace of the two, saying they are “a source of light and hope in the darkness.” In a message earlier released to the public, the siblings called for each of us to make our communities better for someone else. Plant a tree. Pet a dog. Stand up for justice and peace. And more.

“GROUND ZERO” FOR CHANGE

Father Griffith, with permission of the Hortman family, spoke candidly. The nation, he said, is “in need of deep healing.” He referred to Minnesota as a past “ground zero” for racial injustice in the 2020 killing of George Floyd and now for political violence and extremism in the murders of the Hortmans and the shootings of Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, on the same morning. The Hoffmans are recovering, John still hospitalized. Minnesota, Griffith said, can now be the “ground zero” for restoration, justice and healing. If we work together. And strongly decry injustice and violence.

“Peace & Love,” an acrylic painting by Angelina Dornquast exhibited at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)

LET THERE BE PEACE

Words like hope, goodness and kindness were repeated often during the lengthy service. Likewise justice and peace. The gospel reading of The Beatitudes from Matthew 5 seemed especially fitting: Blessed are those who mourn…blessed are the merciful…blessed are the peacemakers…

Peace. Father Griffith shared that Melissa’s mother found a worn copy of the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi in her daughter’s purse. I expect it’s familiar to most of you. Lord make me an instrument of your peace… Colin later read that prayer, a moment I found profoundly moving. In his grief, he had the composure to share those powerful words of where there is hatred, let me sow love… I can only imagine how proud his parents would have been.

DOING GOOD

Governor Walz said Melissa’s goal in life was “to get as much good done for as many people as possible.” He pointed to her legislative efforts that resulted in fewer kids living in poverty, safe and secure housing for Minnesotans and more trees. She loved trees and gardening. Earlier, the priest referenced much the same, calling service and community the Hortmans’ guiding lights.

LAUGHTER IN STORIES

But it was close family friend and former co-worker (at the Legal Aid Society of Minneapolis), Robin Ann Williams, who brought laughter to the Basilica with her personal stories. She shared about a call from Melissa to help choose a paint color for her kitchen. When Williams arrived, she found all the paint samples were shades of beige. The kitchen is still beige. The kitchen centered gatherings, like the “Gourmet Supper Club” dinners with law school friends. Mark Hortman’s sour dough bread was better than his home-brewed beer, she said. Laughter erupted often, especially when she held up a souvenir photo placard of vice presidential candidate, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, which Melissa brought home for her friend from the national DFL convention.

Photographed in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo August 2019)

JOY & MORE ARE POSSIBLE

On this Saturday, the funeral was not about politics, though. It was about coming together to celebrate the Hortmans, to honor their memories, to reflect on their public and private lives, to collectively grieve. The day prior, some 7,500 people converged on the Minnesota State Capitol to pay their respects as the couple and their dog, Gilbert, lay in state.

“We are buried in sorrow right now,” family friend Williams said, adding that joy will come.

I have to believe it will, if we begin to follow the advice of the Hortman children, the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, the teachings of The Beatitudes and the directive of Father Griffith to work together for restoration, justice and healing.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Connected by place & profession to a Minnesota tragedy June 20, 2025

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 2:12 PM
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This shows an edited section of the front page of the June 19, 2025, The Gaylord Hub. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo June 2025)

ALTHOUGH I AM DECADES removed from working as a full-time journalist, my innate curiosity remains unchanged. I still want to gather the facts, get answers, and uncover the who, what, when, where, why and how. That has never left me.

Last Saturday, June 14, memories of working as a newspaper reporter in Gaylord, the county seat of Sibley County, rushed back as the top news story in Minnesota, and the nation, unfolded. That breaking news was the politically-targeted assassinations of Minnesota State Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, and the shootings of Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette. The suspect now accused in the crimes, Vance Boelter, 57, lived near Green Isle. In rural Sibley County.

My first job fresh out of Minnesota State University, Mankato, in 1978 with a degree in mass communications, news/editorial emphasis, landed me in small town Gaylord, at The Gaylord Hub. I was affectionately dubbed “The Cub from the Hub,” or at least affectionately by those who appreciated my fair and balanced reporting. Some did not. Gaylord lies about 15 miles southwest of Green Isle, where Boelter was eventually apprehended near his home. Green Isle was mostly outside The Hub’s coverage area, although I recall writing a few stories from that part of Sibley County.

The bottom portion of the front page story written by Joseph Deis. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo June 2025)

Today the June 19 edition of The Hub landed in my mailbox. I’d been waiting for this issue, curious to see how third-generation publisher and editor, Joseph Deis, would cover the largest news story in the paper’s history. The Hub front page headline reads: Shooting suspect lived in Gaylord a few years ago—Largest manhunt in state’s history ends in Sibley County.

I couldn’t help but think how hard Joe (he was just a kid when I worked for his dad, Jim, at The Hub) and other media have worked to cover this evolving story. It’s not easy to gather information from multiple sources and angles and keep everything straight. That said, law enforcement did an impressive job of informing the media and the public, at least from my at-a-distance perspective.

And Joe Deis did a good job of pulling everything together in a lengthy story that published in his weekly. His dad would be proud, as am I. His story included new-to-me information that Boelter and his family lived on the northwest side of Gaylord a few years ago. They mostly kept to themselves, the article states.

Now, as if the Gaylord/Sibley County connection to my past isn’t enough, there’s more. I left The Hub after several years to become a newspaper reporter at The Sleepy Eye Herald-Dispatch. The murder suspect grew up in Sleepy Eye, graduating from the public high school in 1985. (I was long gone.) Boelter returned to his rural southern Minnesota hometown, living with his family in Sleepy Eye from 2008-2011 and working at Del Monte. And he apparently preached occasionally at church services held in the high school gym, according to media reports. If I know one thing about Sleepy Eye, it’s that the community is deeply religious, with an especially strong Catholic base. I have no idea what Boelter’s childhood faith background may be. But he graduated from an interdenominational Bible college in Texas in 1990 and served as an evangelical missionary in the Democratic Republic of Congo in recent years.

These two connections to my past rattled me. But they also reminded me that, even in rural areas, a reporter’s job can be about more than covering government, sports, community events and the everyday happenings of small town life. Sometimes it can be about covering a really big, life-changing story. A story that grabs headlines locally, statewide, nationally and internationally as did the manhunt in Sibley County, in the readership area of a small town weekly newspaper where I once covered the news.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In which I protest, grieve & reflect June 19, 2025

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Protesters stand along Minnesota State Highway 19 by Ames Park in Northfield during the June 14 NO KINGS protest. This is one of my favorite signs among the many held by hundreds of protesters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)

I LEANED MY HEAD against Randy’s shoulder, my left hand gripping the rod of a protest sign and a small American flag. I felt such profound sadness in that moment. The moment when a pastor asked for a period of silence in honor of Minnesota State Representative/House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, assassinated in their home during the early morning hours of June 14.

Flag Day. Nationwide NO KINGS protest day. A day of gathering turned tragic here in Minnesota.

A strong statement against a system of government by one person with absolute power. I suggest you look up these words, as I had to with some. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)

I alternated between leaning into my husband and leaning my bowed head against the bottom of my NO MORE KINGS protest poster held high, the sign with the cursive words, “I value freedom,” scrawled on the back side. The wind blew, swept my hair across my face like a veil covering sadness. The heaviness felt palpable here, in Ames Park in Northfield, along the banks of the Cannon River. But so did the energy.

This shows just a portion of the massive crowd gathered for Northfield’s NO KINGS protest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)

We were a group of hundreds—maybe even a thousand (I’m not good at estimating crowd size)—gathered to publicly express our concerns about leadership in this country, about decisions being made that negatively affect all of us, about the state of and future of our democracy… It was my first protest. Ever. I wanted, needed, to be here. To remain silent seems complicit.

I’d already arrived when a friend texted that Minnesotans had been advised by state law enforcement not to attend NO KINGS protests. That warning linked to the suspect in the shootings of the Hortmans and of State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette. We would later learn that NO KINGS fliers were found in the vehicle of Vance Boelter, now accused in the double murders and attempted murders.

While your eyes may focus on the protest sign in the middle, look to the right. and this sign: IF NOT ME, WHO? IF NOT NOW, WHEN? (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)

That explained why, on the way to the riverside protest, I overheard a woman telling a couple that her police officer son had advised her not to participate in the rally. She was going home. I was not. Nor were any of the others converging on Ames Park at noon. I wasn’t scared. Vested safety people, trained in conflict resolution and de-escalation, were in place. I felt safe in the masses, which, I suppose, is an unrealistic perspective. But I refuse to be silenced by fear, by the words and actions of those who attempt to suppress voices. And intimidate.

And there were those, including the drivers of a white pickup truck and of motorcycles which repeatedly roared past the rally site, spewing their opposition in noise and in political flags bannering messages I won’t repeat. But they, too, have a right to protest. Peacefully. Just as I do. And I wrote that on the back of a second sign: FREE to PROTEST. But, mostly, passing vehicles honked in strong support.

So many positive messages promoting love, compassion, care, kindness… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)

At this rally of people opposing the current administration and its policies and actions, I felt a unity of purpose and a deep, cohesive concern for the future of our country. I felt uplifted, embraced, empowered. Speakers spoke (although I couldn’t hear most). The pastor led us in prayer. We sang—”The Star Spangled Banner” and “We shall overcome.” We cheered. We chanted. We waved our posters and flags. And a group held an over-sized American flag, which I couldn’t see from my vantage point deep in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.

We were mostly an older group. Baby Boomers. Grandparents. Even octogenarians. Perhaps some protested during the Vietnam War. Or served this country. We’ve lived a few years, enough decades to understand that we need to rise up against authoritarianism. Enough to understand what’s at stake. But there were some young people, too, like the dad behind me with his preschool daughter playing in the grass. He clearly cares, if not for himself, but then for his child.

I saw this mural, “The Inheritance of Struggle,” inside the Memorial Student Union at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, Tuesday afternoon. It shows “the contributions made by people of various ethnicities and cultures in the form of tears, sweat, blood and life in the building of the United States.” It’s fitting for today, Juneteenth, and for NO KINGS day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)

The morning after the NO KINGS protest, I left for Madison, Wisconsin, to spend time with my 5-month-old grandson (and his parents). As I snuggled Everett, I thought, he (and my other two grandchildren) are part of the reason I chose to protest. Their lives stretch before them. I want them to live in a country where they are free. Free. I want them to live under a government based on a three-pronged system of checks and balances, not one ruled by a king or some version of a king or dictator. I want them to live in a kind, caring and compassionate country. Not a selfish, uncaring, divisive nation filled with hatred.

I returned to Minnesota yesterday and am catching up on laundry and writing. And, along with my fellow Minnesotans, I’m collectively grieving the assassination of an elected official and her husband. And I’m thinking, this is what it’s come to in Amercia…

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling