Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Commentary: 100 days in & he’s talking dolls May 2, 2025

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Dolls with appropriate eye-rolling and blank staring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

ONCE UPON A TIME in The Land of Plenty there lived a ruler who, once he took office, commenced to ruthlessly flaunt his authority (which fits, given his self-proclaimed ruler status). He really didn’t care what he said or did as long as it fit his agenda to make his kingdom—more precisely himself—great. The forceful leader promised that the “golden age” of Acirema would start on the day he assumed power. Perhaps he was referencing the opulent gold décor in his redecorated palace office.

The ruler gathered his team of loyalists and followers, assuring them that as long as they followed his plans, his instructions, his actions, his orders, he would reward them, or at least keep them out of the dungeon. Threats and intimidation have a way of instilling self-preservation and obedience.

But not everyone much cared for the self-centered leader or his policies. They never fell under his spell, his control. They were willing to stand up to him, question him, even at the risk of raising his ire. Or worse. They began to rise up and challenge him and his underlings. That didn’t sit well with the ruler. I mean, how would you like the courts calling you out, gray-haired ladies protesting, students criticizing you in schoolyards? Nope, can’t have that happening in Acirema. Never mind that The Land of Plenty was a land of freedom, of laws, of due process, of balanced powers. Or at least it was before the authoritarian ruler took over.

Disheveled dolls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

A JOB REVIEW 100 DAYS IN

And so, 100 days into his reign, the ruler underwent a job review of sorts. Job reviews held no sway with him, although he should have understood their importance based on his previous experiences as a land baron who banished many a worker. Whatever. He was above everyone. All of them. He didn’t believe multiple reports of his declining popularity. He was doing a great job, he proclaimed. Great! And that was that. Don’t tell him otherwise for fear of being branded a liar. Or worse, banished from the kingdom. Just nod and agree that everything is going great and the ruler would call you a friend rather than a foe.

But you can only push people so far before they break and stop believing you, if they ever did in the first place. And many in the kingdom never did take this man at his word. He had a habit of distorting the truth, in other words lying. Now name-calling is not nice. But truth is truth.

One windfall apple, that will eventually rot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

BULLYING AND BLAMING

Many in the kingdom were weary of the bullying coming from the palace. No one likes a bully. No one likes decrees that harm, rather than help, the kingdom. When the ruler levied new taxes on goods, promising to enrich his subjects, many did not believe him. (It should be noted that some—too many—still believed him.) He urged patience and calm as anger rose both inside and outside the kingdom. The ruler had upset the marketplace apple cart. Yet, he would hear none of the verbal resistance. As was his usual reaction, he blamed the previous overseer of The Land of Plenty for the rising costs of food and for marketplace shortages. “It was him, not me!” the ruler shouted. He used that blame tactic often.

Dolls, dolls and more dolls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

2 DOLLS, 30 DOLLS, 900 DOLLS

But then he said something that deeply upset his subjects. “Well, maybe the children will have two dolls instead of 30 dolls,” the ruler responded when asked about rising prices and marketplace shortages. Outrage ensued. Thirty dolls? It was then that the people of the kingdom realized how disconnected the leader was from reality. Many of them now lived in poverty due to his policies. Their children had no dolls, unless you counted those crafted from corn cobs. The ruler’s grandchildren, however, had an entire playroom filled with imported dolls. Lovely dolls. Thirty times thirty. That’s 900 if you’re counting.

By this time the citizens of The Land of Plenty were counting only one thing—the number of days until they could vote in a new leader of Acirema. If that would even be an option. If they weren’t all banished. If they still had a country.

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NOTE: While this is a fictional story, it is rooted in truth. Feel free to leave a comment, understanding that I moderate all comments on this, my personal blog.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An April 1 commentary about candy, but not really April 1, 2025

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Lots of jelly beans and other candy were sold in a Minnesota shop I visited years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

ONCE UPON A TIME in The Land of Plenty, there lived a ruler who, before he took office, declared that he would be king for a day, or some such wordage. He relished power and absolute control with the zeal of a kid unleashed in a candy store. Except even kids in a candy shop realize they can’t devour every piece of sticky taffy, every morsel of chocolate, every jelly bean in sight. Their stomachs would hurt. And they would soon be barfing all over the kingdom.

But the narcissistic leader, who promised to make the country the best it had ever been (because he craved praise and power), apparently did not understand this about consuming too much candy. Or he didn’t care. Once in office, the-man-who-would-be-king gathered his team, granting unfettered powers to one of them in particular. He pulled out his guidebook and magical pen and scrawled his signature across endless pieces of paper imprinted with orders to create an even more wonderful and efficient Land of Plenty, at least in his eyes. Such was his insatiable desire for adoration, domination and control. His plan to become king for a day extended well beyond a day into mindless infinity.

Candy galore in another Minnesota candy shop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

He proposed acquiring more land to add to his empire, focusing his efforts on the countries of Adanac and Dnalneerg, both of which wanted nothing to do with him, understandably so. But that didn’t stop the ruler from obsessing on the topic, for he was a determined man. Do this. Do that. Say this. Say that. Toss out an endless stream of threats and vitriol and perhaps some of it would stick like gum to the bottom of a shoe.

On and on it went. Each day something new. More taxes, which he called “tariffs” and a good thing for his subjects. He advised those who farmed the land to “have fun.” He fooled no one (OK, maybe some too many) with his spin on tariffs. Mass firings, deportations, funding cuts, closures and more (too many actions to count really) happened daily under the ruler’s authoritarian hand.

If anyone protested, spoke up or voiced opposition, the ruthless leader worked to quiet them. There were street snatchings and threats. Intimidation. Disrespect. Denial. Deflection. Distraction. Lies. Verbal attacks. He used all sorts of tactics to create fear, to suppress anyone who disagreed with him, his team and his/their words and actions. That included bullying the printers, lawyers and judges of the land, calling them all sorts of derogatory names. He threatened to come after them, to silence them, to show them who held the power. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes not.

In this fictional story, chocolates are banned from candy shops. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

Yet, one plan appealed to the unsuspecting masses. And that was the opening of more candy stores, with promises to give away millions, perhaps even billions, of pounds of candy. To qualify, subjects needed only to sign an irrevocable loyalty pledge, which seemed reasonable on the surface. But there’s always the fine print. They would need to agree with the mighty ruler’s ideology and actions or risk losing four years of a free candy supply or, worse yet, be locked up for rebellious attitudes or other so-called subversive acts. If the subjects looked even closer at the fine print, they would see that candy shops were forbidden from carrying chocolate. Surely that would be the deal breaker for most because, well, who doesn’t love chocolate? All candy, in fact, was to be colorless.

Nearly endless flavors of taffy and candy are sold in this mega Minnesota candy shop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo used for illustration only)

But most failed to read the fine print, so focused were they on a four-year supply of free candy. Such a sweet deal. They trusted that the ruler had their best interests in mind. He didn’t. Even kids understand that too much candy can cause a tummy ache that leaves them regretting their selfish gluttony.

This, my friends, is no April Fool’s Day joke.

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FYI: While this short story is written as fiction, it is (as is most fiction) rooted in truth. It is also a commentary, a way for me to use my voice. Whether you agree or disagree with the content is your prerogative and right. Just note, though, that this is my personal blog and that I moderate all comments and have the final say in those I choose to publish or not.

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Even scarier than Halloween October 31, 2024

A Halloween mask and costumes for sale at Something for All, a thrift shop in Lonsdale, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2024)

OCTOBER 31. Halloween, the one day when scary is celebrated in a big way. But October 31 also marks another notable day, the final day in Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Domestic violence is far scarier than any ghoulish, frightening, unsettling costume or event. Domestic violence and abuse are real. Real scary.

Warning signs of relationship abuse from an event held in Faribault many years ago.

Abuse can be physical, psychological/mental and/or emotional. Death, injuries, scars, trauma and so much more result from abuse which is, at its core, all about manipulation, power and control. Those can be insidious or blatant.

My fictional story, “Evidence,” is published in this anthology.

With that brief background, I am sharing a fictional story printed in Talking Stick 32—Twist in the Road, a literary anthology published by northern Minnesota based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. I wrote “Evidence,” which won an honorable mention in the 2023 Talking Stick writing competition. Please read my story and then my comments following.

Some victims of domestic abuse/violence flee with minimal belongings in a single bag or suitcase. Some leave with nothing at all. Leaving marks the most dangerous time period when exiting an abusive relationship. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Evidence

She waited inside the bus station, body molded into a hard plastic chair, battered suitcase at her feet nudging shoes that needed a good polishing. Beverly felt restless, lost, as if at any moment she would awaken from her nightmare of a life. She pressed her right thumb into her sweaty left palm, a soothing habit that sometimes helped calm her. But not today.

Only hours earlier she’d fled to this place after tossing several changes of clothing alongside her diary in the bag now resting on the sticky, worn floor soiled by a thousand feet, a thousand stories. Today her story.

Her mind drifted to those first years when she wrote in flowery script, embellishing her writing with hearts. Love, so much love. He cherished her, loved her, embraced her with words and flowers and praise. Until he didn’t.

It was all so subtle, how Thomas, not Tom, chose to slip hurtful words into conversations, wearing her down. Day by day. Complaints of undone laundry and cold dinner and dirty dishes. And then the accusations flew. Where were you? Why were you speaking to him? Why can’t you ever do anything right? Then he slapped her. Repeatedly. Often.

She felt beaten. Weak. Exhausted. Trapped. Her writing reflected that, emotional words looping across the lined paper. Uneven and running together and sometimes nearly unreadable. Tears traced through the ink and wrinkled the pages.

For the longest time, she endured, pulled inside herself, determined she could do better, be better, love him more. Yet, it was never enough. Thomas continued to berate her, to find fault in everything she said and did. And she recorded it all in the journal zippered inside the suitcase stuffed in the back of their closet, the suitcase now at her feet. Evidence.

Beverly pulled herself back to reality, checked the time on the massive clock inside the bus station. Soon the Greyhound would roll in. She grabbed the worn handle of the battered bag, rose from the uncomfortable chair, and headed toward the boarding area. The momentum of hurrying passengers, their shoes slapping against the speckled linoleum, carried her. The bus doors pulsed open. Beverly stepped inside, handing her ticket to the driver. Her mood shifted, lightened with each step down the aisle until she saw him through the window, face flashing anger, fists clenched at his sides.

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This text was published in a book, “She Stays,” by Eric Staab-Absher, director of HOPE Center in Faribault. (Text copyright of Erica Staab-Absher)

COMMENTS: If you recognize yourself or someone you love in my fictional story, first know that you are not alone. Help is available through organizations that will support you and/or your family. That may be a shelter or an advocacy/outreach organization focused on preventing domestic violence, providing education and resources, and simply being there for you. If you’re not ready for that step, talk to a trusted friend or family member. Seek help.

Leaving an abuser is not easy. It’s scary and difficult. Even dangerous. But you (or someone you love) are so worth living a life free from manipulation, control, abuse and/or violence.

VIOLENCE FREE MINNESOTA has released its “2023 Homicide Report: Relationship Abuse in Minnesota.” In 2023, there were 40 confirmed victims of intimate partner and domestic violence-related homicides in the state. That’s the highest number since tracking began in 1989. Gunshot is the leading cause of deaths. This report honors victims across Minnesota with photos and information. It’s packed with statistics and other valuable information and is well worth your read. Click here to read the full report or a summary of it.

To learn more, start by clicking here to reach the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Weekly Phone Call May 11, 2023

My sweet mom, featured on the Parkview Facebook page, Mother’s Day 2020. (Photo credit: Parkview Senior Living)

IN EVERYTHING I WRITE, truth rests. In creative nonfiction, more than any other genre, truth writes the story. In poetry and fiction, life experiences, observations and emotions weave into poems and stories. Not necessarily the full truth, but based on reality. The adage “write what you know” rings true for me.

In 2017, I wrote a short story, “The Weekly Phone Call,” and entered it in the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc annual competition. That work of creative nonfiction along with two poems, two fictional short stories and another piece of creative nonfiction were chosen for publication in Fine Lines, The Talking Stick Volume 26. It marked my most successful year with TS, an annual anthology featuring work by Minnesota writers or those with a connection to Minnesota.

Five of my works (poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction) published in Fine Lines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)

The book title, Fine Lines fits my selected entry, a story about the Sunday evening phone calls I made to my mom. Every. Week. I looked forward to them, as did Mom. My short story is one of raw emotions, of grief and pain. And today, days before Mother’s Day, seems an appropriate time to share this piece of my writing.

I hope it sparks an understanding that simple connections linking us to those we love are to be valued. When Mom could no longer hold or talk on a phone in the years before her January 2022 death, I felt a deep loss. I missed her voice. I missed her stories. I missed sharing my life with her. And today, I miss her, as I try to recall her voice, the words she spoke, yet always remembering the love we shared.

Parkview Senior Living in Belview, where my mom lived for many years. While 120 miles separated us, Mom and I remained connected via our weekly calls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

The Weekly Phone Call

It’s 6:30 p.m. on Sunday when I punch the green phone icon.

“Hello, Arlene speaking,” she answers, the indiscernible dialogue of a television blaring in the background.

“Hi, this is Audrey,” I say, then wait while she turns off her TV. “How are you doing?”

Her answer never deviates. She is tired and blames the weather. Already sadness threads through my thoughts. Inside the sheltered walls of a care center, she can’t feel the bite of a winter prairie wind, the drench of rainfall, the smothering humidity of a July afternoon. She feels only artificial heat and cold while sequestered in her over-sized dorm style room.

My mind drifts as Mom laments an in-house obsession with BINGO, recounts an escape attempt by a friend—big and exciting news—and complains of failed jets in the whirlpool tub. I listen, insert appropriate responses, and await the usual repetition of information.

When she repeats herself, I say nothing. There is no point. My love prevails in silence. But inside, my anger rises at her declining memory. I want the mom who never forgot a birthday, who remembered what she ate for lunch, who knew names. I miss her undeniably kind and positive spirit. I am grieving.

But I tell her none of this. Instead, I end our conversation with “I love you” and a promise to call her next Sunday, at 6:30 p.m.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Original 2017 publication credit: Fine Lines, The Talking Stick Volume 26

 

Planning coffee with a friend, a sign-inspired short story from Northfield April 11, 2022

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Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

By all means,

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

let’s take five.

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

But I gotta stop at Willie’s first for my shoes.

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

That’s across from the VFW.

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

And then I need to pick up my custom framed print.

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

So can we meet at 10 am at Goodbye Blue Monday?

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

I hope we beat the student rush.

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

Or maybe I’m fooling myself.

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

Oh, I see it’s snowing again. Better wear my boots.

Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022

I’ll be as contented as a cow if this winter ever ends.

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FYI: All photos were taken in historic downtown Northfield, Minnesota, in February.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My writing publishes in The Talking Stick, Volume 29 September 11, 2020

Two stories and a poem I wrote just published in the latest The Talking Stick literary anthology.

 

AS A WRITER, getting one’s work published always validates personal creativity.

I’m honored to once again have my writing selected for publication in The Talking Stick literary journal, an annual project of the Park Rapids area based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc.

This year my short story, “Josephine Holding Deloris,” earned honorable mention in creative nonfiction. The story connects a 1 ½-inch square vintage family photo to my life experiences.

 

The beginning of my award-winning story.

 

Nonfiction judge Jill Johnson, author of several books, including Little Minnesota: 100 Towns Around 100, praises my work. “Thank you for sharing your touching story about your grandmother and aunt. You connected the tiny size of the photo to the small moments of life. You allowed the reader a vivid description of mother and daughter and brought the connection full circle. Keep writing!”

My poem, “Final Harvest,” and second piece of creative nonfiction, “A Quick Guide to Practicing Minnesota Nice,” were also chosen for publication in Insights, The Talking Stick, Volume 29.

This year’s book features 139 poems and stories (selected from 300 submissions) by 92 Minnesota-connected writers. My writing has published many times in The Talking Stick and earned multiple honors.

Copies of the latest book and past volumes are available for purchase at jackpinewriters.com. On the back cover of Insights, the editors note, “In the midst of social distancing, in the midst of mask wearing and Plexiglas shields, we are all grieving the changes in our world. But let’s keep one thing the same—you can still curl up with a good book and read. You can open the pages of Talking Stick 29 and see what your fellow Minnesota writers have written, and some how, perhaps, we can all feel a little bit closer.”

I’d encourage you to order a copy of this collection featuring so many talented writers. That includes Bernadette Hondl Thomasy, a native of Owatonna and a reader of this blog. Her “Mother’s Mojo” also earned honorable mention in creative nonfiction. She co-authored the book, Under Minnesota Skies, with her sister Colleen Hondl Gengler. Minnesota, in my opinion, has produced many gifted writers in all genres. And you’ll find a fine sampling of those creatives in Insights, The Talking Stick, Volume 29.

Copyright 2020 Audrey Kletscher Helbling