Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Tom at the organ March 7, 2012

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My father-in-law, Tom, at the used Lowrey organ he purchased a few years ago.

THE CONSOLE LIGHTS UP like a Christmas tree or the Vegas strip or a carnival midway as my father-in-law settles onto the bench of his Lowrey organ and flips switches.

I’ve asked Tom to play a tune or two during a brief visit at his St. Cloud apartment.

He’s taking organ lessons. I find that particularly admirable given he’s 81. Not that he’s a musical novice. Tom isn’t. He once played an accordion and piano and even an organ and tuned and repaired pianos. He typically plays music by ear, including on this occasion.

Playing the organ, with his artificial hand, left, and his real hand.

Hank Williams’ “Your Cheatin’ Heart” and “Somewhere My Love,” from the movie “Doctor Zhivago” flow from the keys like music at a supper club all sugary and sweet and smooth. We should be dining in the dark corner of a long ago Saturday night destination, backs pressed against walls pasted with flocked red wallpaper, slicing our serrated knives through pink steaks and sipping our whiskey sours.

But instead, we are cramped into a tiny apartment among a hodgepodge of doll and angel collectibles, beer steins and toy tractors, and a clutter of miscellaneous knickknacks. We’re sipping water in a room flooded with light.

The organ takes up considerable space in the tiny apartment.

In the corner, my step mother-in-law pauses from circling words in a word search book to listen to the organ music, until, finally, she requests that the music stop.

We leave her there, with her words, as we descend several floors to my father-in-law’s art studio, a corner in the basement community room. Just over from a cluster of outdated exercise bicycles, Tom has stashed frames he’s recycling for his own art. Finished and in-progress works lean against each other and we file through them—elk in the mountains, loons, raccoons…

Threshing on the home place, a painting by my father-in-law. While growing up here, Tom already played organ.

He unrolls a scroll onto a table, revealing a sketch of the home place near St. Anthony, North Dakota. His second oldest daughter wants a painting of the farm where Tom grew up with his parents, Alfred and Rosa, and siblings, then later lived with his bride.

My husband studies the drawing, points out the summer kitchen and the creek, the details he remembers of Sunnybrook Farm, the place he called home until moving with his parents to central Minnesota in the early 1960s.

In moments like this, I begin to glimpse the history and the roots of this family I married into 30 years ago.

And in moments like photographing my father-in-law at the organ and in sifting through his paintings, I see the artistic side of this man. The man who once attended Catholic boarding school and worked the land and lost his left hand to a corn chopper in 1967, but never lost his desire, or ability, to pursue his passion to create music and art.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Friendly Fargo welcomes three Minnesotans March 1, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:10 AM
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Clean, quiet, friendly, inviting modern decor...I'd definitely recommend the Fairfield Inn.

FARGO GETS a bad rap.

OK, maybe the name isn’t all that appealing, as my 18-year-old noted. I suppose you could misconstrue Fargo as “Too-Far-To-Go.”

The wind definitely bites in Fargo. The land is most assuredly flat.

But I am here to tell you that the people are most certainly friendly. From Corey at the Fairfield Inn Marriott to the young mom and her daughter at Space Aliens Grill & Bar to Emma, our tour guide at North Dakota State University, every person we met welcomed my family with warmth during a recent visit to Fargo. Yes, they did.

Corey from the Fairfield front desk phoned our room shortly after our arrival to verify that we were satisfied with the accommodations. We were.

Later, helpful Corey even pulled out a map of the city and highlighted a route from the hotel to Space Aliens and to NDSU. He also advised us to allow 15 minutes of travel time to the college campus the next morning.

Pulling into the parking lot of Space Aliens, we noted a neon sign with this message: “Earthlings welcome.” Yes, a humorous welcome like that makes anyone feel at home.

Along Fargo's mall/restaurant strip, you'll find Space Aliens at 3250 32nd Ave. S.

In the ideal light of a setting sun, I photographed this image before entering Space Aliens.

Then before I stepped into the restaurant, a young mom whom I’d asked about food recommendations, really did say, “Welcome to Fargo.”

“Can we eat with her?” her little girl asked, looking directly at me.

We didn’t. Eat with her.

I walked into the restaurant and shot this image as the sun set on Fargo. Just like looking through the doors of a fictional spaceship. I would have really loved this place as a kid, being a fan of "Lost in Space" and all.

We sat in a booth along the far wall in this dining room packed with young families. Yes, Space Aliens is definitely a kid-oriented place with all things space and a game room. Lots of lights. Lots of noise. We found the food to be over-priced for what we got in both quantity and quality.

We dined in a room where our waitress, a local college student, had to repeat the list of dips for fries three times above the din of diners. And gold star for her, she didn’t even appear annoyed by our inability to hear or our difficulty deciphering menus in poor lighting conditions.

The main dining area was mostly empty when we arrived. As you can see, lots to take in visually.

A final parting shot of Space Aliens, a particularly fun restaurant to photograph and with a great atmosphere for kids who love space and need to be entertained while dining out.

The next morning we awoke to the sun rising in splendid shades of rose for an 8:45 a.m. appointment at the university. Perfect day, despite the biting wind. Caring more about warmth than fashion, my husband, son and I clamped on our stocking caps and gloves for our campus tour led by the friendly, backward-walking Emma.

More Fargo friendliness followed during meetings with an admissions rep and engineering professor and during impromptu chats with two engineering students.

So there you have it. Fargo friendliness. Everywhere.

No wood chippers in sight, although I understand you’ll find one at the Fargo-Moorhead Convention and Visitors Center. (It’s the real wood chipper used in the Coen brothers’ movie, “Fargo,” from whence many Fargo stereotypes have evolved.)

I spotted not a single red-and-black buffalo plaid flannel shirt, except the one I wore upon our arrival from Minnesota.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Scenes along Interstate 94 driving toward Fargo February 27, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:49 AM
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The coal-fired power plant by Becker as seen from Interstate 94.

IN COUNTRY THAT’S primarily flat and open, you notice the details—the shape and height of clouds, the tint of the soil, the sharp angles of buildings, towers that break the monotony of horizontal lines and so much more.

At least I notice these things. Maybe you don’t.

Join me today on one final trek along Interstate 94 as we travel northwest toward Fargo, North Dakota. Begin to see, like me, man’s imprint upon the land.

I am neither endorsing nor criticizing the content of these images. I am simply showing you examples of what I noticed along that drive, beginning near Monticello, Minnesota. I’ve already shown you the skyscapes and the farm sites in previous posts.

These photos represent subjects that don’t fit into a single, well-defined category. They are, if anything, simply scenes that unfold upon the stage of this land, this wide, wide land.

I'd love to know the history behind this house in the Avon area.

You just don't see old corn cribs like this in use much anymore. Something about them so appeals to me visually.

Deep in the heart of dairy country, I spotted this vet clinic sign by Freeport.

Freeport, "The city with a smile!" is marked by this old-fashioned smiling water tower.

Drive I-94 and you'll see endless towers like this one where the tower dwarfs an abandoned building to the right.

This country is rural through and through. This may be an ethanol plant although I'm not sure. Anyone know?

I expected to see more trains than I did. These were near the plant in the photo above.

Who knew? A Budweiser plant in Moorhead.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

On the road to Fargo, where sky meets land February 20, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:07 AM
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Only 192 miles to Fargo, North Dakota. We've already driven 93.

SKY. That single word defines a road trip from Faribault to Fargo.

Don’t talk miles and time to me. Talk sky.

Once past the St. Cloud exit along Interstate 94, you start noticing the sky, how, the farther west you travel, the larger it becomes until the sheer immensity of that above overwhelms that below.

Sky meets land somewhere westbound along Interstate 94 toward Fargo.

For those who live in the confines of the city, where buildings and masses of streets and highways pull the sky downward and ground it, the vastness of the skies can unsettle the spirit and create a sense of vulnerability. You can’t help but feel exposed under brooding clouds and a sky that stretches into a distance without end.

Interstate 94 sometimes seems to run right into the sky as you drive west.

Yet, for me, a prairie native, there’s a certain sense of calm that comes from traveling into the sky. Because that is what you do when driving west from Minnesota toward the Dakotas. You drive into the sky.

After an initial awareness that you really are incredibly small compared to that above, you begin to notice the details. Or at least I begin to appreciate the details—like the hard edge where sky meets land, the ever-changing skyscape as clouds shift and the day wanes, the nuances in colors and texture that define firmament and field.

Power lines set against the backdrop of the sky provide a visual vertical respite for the eyes.

It is as if you’ve brushed yourself right into a landscape painting.

And I can’t get enough of it, of the strong horizontal lines that sweep across my vision, reconnecting me to my prairie past.

The landscape: flat and into forever near Fargo/Moorhead.

The ever-changing clouds blend with the rural landscape.

As the sun sets, the sky broods.

The sharp contrast of black and white against blue pleases my eyes.

Fence lines and farms slice through the land.

A church spire in the distance draws my eye in this place where my soul reconnects to the prairie.

ALL OF THESE IMAGES were taken with my DSLR camera, set at a fast shutter speed, while traveling along Interstate 94. Check back for more posts from this trip to Fargo.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Farm Rescue: Like neighbors helping neighbors November 7, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:13 AM
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NO ONE EVER expects to need help. But then an accident happens or sickness befalls us or tragedy strikes. And we suddenly realize how much we need each other.

Back in October of 1967, neighbors rallied after a corn chopper sliced off the fingers on my father-in-law’s left hand. Not just the tips, but so much that amputation was required between the wrist and the elbow.

An Allis Chalmers corn chopper like this one exhibited at the 2010 Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Show, claimed my father-in-law's left hand and much of his arm in a 1967 accident. That's my husband, Randy, who saved his dad's life by running for help.

In the week after the accident, neighboring farmers came with plows to work the fields of my father-in-law’s Morrison County farm.  Others arrived with tractors and manure spreaders to haul away a manure pile. A week or two later, the neighbors were back to pour a slab of cement at the end of the barn.

Several farmers and a high school student continued to assist the family with twice daily milkings and other farm chores while Tom recovered and adapted to farming with his prosthetic hook hand.

Neighbors helping neighbors in need.

This fall, farmers gathered south of Lucan in Redwood County to harvest corn and soybeans on the farm of their friend and neighbor, Steve, my sister-in-law’s father who was found dead at the scene of a single-vehicle accident on September 20.

Neighbors helping a grieving family in their time of need.

Stories like this are not uncommon in rural Minnesota.

Harvesting corn this fall in southern Minnesota.

But it wasn’t until this past week that I learned about Farm Rescue, “a nonprofit organization that plants and harvests crops free of charge for family farmers who have suffered a major illness, injury or natural disaster.”

Founded in 2005 by a former North Dakota farm boy, this Jamestown, North Dakota-based nonprofit has assisted 155 farm families, mostly in the Dakotas, but also in western Minnesota and eastern Montana, the states within the organization’s coverage area.

In early October, Farm Rescue harvested beans for Renville area farmer Kurt Kramin who is recovering from serious burns sustained while he burned debris following a July 1 severe storm that passed through southwestern Minnesota. (Read a story published in the Morris Sun Tribune about the Farm Rescue assistance provided to Kramin by clicking here.) 

All of this I learned from Paul Oster, a Farm Rescue videographer. Oster read my July blog posts about the tornadic and strong wind storms that swept through southwestern Minnesota and contacted me last week about using several photos in a video he was preparing about Kramin.

Before agreeing to his request, I first checked out Farm Rescue. I wanted to assure that the storm photos my brother, uncle and I had taken would be shared with a respected organization.

My photo of the July 1 storm damage at Meadowland Farmers Co-op in Vesta which Paul Oster included in his video of Kurt Kramin. Renville, where Kramin lives, is north of Vesta.

No problem there. Farm Rescue accepts applicants from farmers in need, reviews the applications and then, if approved, coordinates volunteers to plant or harvest crops. It’s like neighbors helping neighbors.

Click here to read all about Farm Rescue and how this nonprofit truly shines at neighbors helping neighbors in need.

Then, click here to see the videos about farm families aided by Farm Rescue in 2011.

If you want to contribute in any way to this worthy organization, do. Because you never know when you, too, may need your neighbors’ help.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A native Minnesotan reports from flooded Minot June 23, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:02 AM
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MY BROTHER-IN-LAW, Neil, lives in Minot.

But he ranks as one of the lucky residents of this North Dakota city. His house lies outside—albeit less than a mile away—and several hundred feet above the flood zone.

Yet, this Air Force man and Minnesota native isn’t sitting idly by because his home has not been threatened. He’s pitching in to help those who face the reality of losing their houses in the worst flooding since 1969.

In an e-mail I received from Neil early this morning, he shares information, insights and, yes, even advice about the current situation—which he terms “exhausting and discouraging”—in his adopted hometown. The overwhelmed Souris River in Minot is expected to crest on Sunday, some five feet higher than any previous flood stage in recorded history for the area, Neil says. The old record was set in 1881, before Minot was founded.

So that’s the situation facing this city, where some 12,000 residents, more than a quarter of the population, have been evacuated and where, says Neil, dikes in several neighborhoods were breached on Wednesday.

Neil has assisted two families in exiting the city.

He writes: “I helped a lady from our church on Monday night as she moved everything either to the second floor or attic. What didn’t go upstairs went into a horse trailer that her brother brought in from out of town late that night. She seemed to take things in stride. Her house was also flooded in ’69 (before it was her house), but came through it okay. It’s extremely well built, nearly 100 years old. This lady trusts that God will provide for her needs, even if her house washes down the river.”

Neil next joined efforts to help his boss’s family. His boss is deployed to Afghanistan.

“I lost track of how many people were there to help them,” Neil writes. “We also helped them three weeks ago, when we moved everything out of their sopping wet basement to the upper floor and garage. Because of the shortage of time allowed to evacuate, we left almost everything there that time. Because of the expected height of the floodwaters and the advance preparation time, we decided to clear everything out of their house this time.”

Yet, Neil continues, “There were easily several pickup loads of stuff that we left behind simply because there wasn’t enough time/energy/resources to move it all.”

At this point my brother-in-law pauses and suggests that we all re-evaluate our possessions, deciding what we really need and what we don’t. “Go through your house and garage and get rid of anything that you haven’t laid eyes on or used in the past three years.” He intends to do exactly that at his Minot home, which is currently on the market; he’s been reassigned to an Air Force base in Missouri.

When Neil and his wife, who is already in Missouri, purchased their house several years ago, they purposely stayed away from the flood zone. “A contractor that we spoke to before buying a house told us the down sides of several locations in this town. One specific neighborhood that he told us to steer clear of is the exact one that we helped my boss’s family move out of; he told us that he wouldn’t even consider building a house down there because the whole area was under water in the flood of ’69,” Neil says.

And then my brother-in-law adds this final statement: “Dikes give people a false sense of security.  No one presently living in this town will ever doubt that again!”

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling