Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A meeting reminder & my Allina Health story July 28, 2026

I’ve had physical and occupational therapy at Courage Kenny in Faribault multiple times, most recently in 2023. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2026)

FOR SIX MONTHS in 2023, once a week, my husband, Randy, drove me across the bridge to therapy at Courage Kenny Rehabilitation Institute in Faribault for vestibular rehab therapy. Without that intense weekly therapy, I doubt I would have reclaimed my ability to function in daily life.

Early in that year, I developed debilitating neurological symptoms following a virus, likely COVID, although I never tested positive for it. There was no other explanation for my sensory overload issues which kept me unable to handle light, motion, sound, anything really entering my brain.

I stayed inside the house, curtains drawn, shutting out sensory input. I couldn’t tolerate watching TV. I couldn’t read. I could hardly handle a phone call or conversation. I felt anxious, overstimulated by even the smallest external stimuli. I barely ate because of hyper-sensitive taste buds. I lost weight. I couldn’t tolerate toothpaste. I couldn’t sleep. I struggled to maintain. Managing daily living seemed nearly impossible. Basically, I was confined to my house, unable to function outside of it.

And then my family doctor, Dr. Todd Sykora of Allina Health in Faribault, referred me to Allina’s Courage Kenny. Sykora had seen me multiple times, determined to find a way to help me. I’d gone through a battery of tests to rule out causes like a brain tumor. I’ll always feel grateful for my doctor’s genuine care and compassion, for not giving up and for admitting that he didn’t have the answers. He eventually suggested vestibular rehab therapy to treat my long COVID.

That therapy would put me on the road back to good health. I was ready to try anything at that point.

Some of the exercises I did in vestibular rehab therapy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Enter Courage Kenny therapist Ryan Iverson, who’s trained in vestibular rehab therapy. From the get-go, Iverson assured me he could help. He validated my traumatic brain injury type symptoms. And then we set to work at those weekly sessions with homework exercises assigned each week. I worked hard, experienced some setbacks, but, eventually graduated after six months. I’d reclaimed my life.

Today I am doing well, although minor sensory issues linger. But now I know how to cope, how to manage. I am living my life, doing the things I love, being with people, out and about. And I owe that to my Allina Health primary care doctor and my vestibular rehab therapist. If not for this great local care, I would still be struggling.

This sign on the Allina Health Faribault campus directs patients and visitors to the hospital, pharmacy and clinic. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

I share all of this again three years later because the Allina Health system, which serves Minnesota and western Wisconsin with 12 hospitals, 60 primary care clinics, 20 urgent care centers and more than 100 specialty care clinics, has signed an agreement with California-based Sutter Health to buy Allina. And that affects me given I get my care through Allina.

From 6-8 p.m. Wednesday, July 29, the Minnesota State Attorney General’s office will host a listening session in Faribault on that proposed acquisition. I’ll be there. You can attend also, but only if you pre-register. And, if you wish to speak, you must complete a form in advance. Only then will you be notified of the community forum location.

This is an important meeting. Important because this is about healthcare. Local healthcare. I’m thankful I could get my vestibular rehab therapy in Faribault. I can’t imagine traveling out of town once a week for six months to access care. It would have been difficult and draining for me, taxing for my brain. Plus, the time and travel expense would have added to an already challenging situation.

I don’t know what will happen if Sutter assumes ownership of Allina Health in Minnesota and western Wisconsin. I expect this acquisition will happen. But I hope safeguards are put in place to continue services, to keep clinics and hospitals open, to protect the jobs of 27,000 employees.

There’s a lot at stake here for any community served by Allina Health.

FYI: Click here for more information about the proposed Allina-Sutter acquisition and the upcoming meeting. That includes links to register to attend and/or to speak.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Escaping the heavy wildfire smoke in north central Minnesota July 16, 2026

Signage on an escape room business in downtown Brainerd, photo taken Monday afternoon before wildfire smoke rolled in. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

IN THE EXTREME HEAT and humidity of Monday afternoon, my husband and I and our eldest daughter and her family escaped to Copper Cat Escape Games in Brainerd to sleuth for Granny’s hidden secret recipe. It was great fun finding and solving clues, unlocking boxes and finally solving the mystery with five minutes to spare.

Driving into and through wildfire smoke early Wednesday afternoon near Garrison. I took these photos as a passenger. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

On Wednesday afternoon, we escaped, too, but this time from intense wildfire smoke which blew in from the north, enveloping the Brainerd Lakes area cabin where we were vacationing. We’ve experienced smoke on previous visits. This time, though, the smoke was especially thick, intense and oppressive.

After leaving Mission Park and before reaching the cabin, I photographed this sign by the Mission Town Hall. Fire danger was low here Wednesday with the smoke (seen to the left) coming from wildfires up north. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

The smoke rolled in as Randy and I were hiking at Mission Park only a short drive from the Horseshoe Lake cabin south of Crosslake. We emerged from the woods to see dense smoke. Initially, we thought someone was burning, but soon realized the source—wildfires to the north in Canada and northern Minnesota.

Driving through dense smoke along Crow Wing County Road 11 south of Crosslake early Wednesday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

Wildfires are raging in areas in and around the Boundary Waters Canoe Area with campers there evacuated earlier in the week and the BWCA closed. Evacuation orders have been issued in parts of St. Louis, Cook and Lake counties in the northeastern part of Minnesota. Camps are closing, kids sent home. And on and on. Resorts, outfitters and other businesses that rely on seasonal income are suffering.

And across nearly all of Minnesota, we are breathing in smoke at levels classified as hazardous, very unhealthy, unhealthy and more by the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency. That includes right here in my county of Rice in the southern part of the state far from the wildfires.

But the level here in Faribault is nothing compared to what we saw and breathed in yesterday in the Brainerd Lakes area. That smoke smelled of infinite campfires, stung our eyes, made it hard to breathe, reduced visibility.

Our plans to spend the day exploring and enjoying the small towns near the cabin quickly pivoted to packing and heading home a day earlier than intended. Our daughter and her family left a day prior, as scheduled.

Looking across Horseshoe Lake in the thick smoke late Wednesday morning. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

It was the right decision to leave on Wednesday. Already visibility across Horseshoe Lake was so limited that the opposite shore appeared only an outline of trees. Smoke and the stench of smoke hung in the air. The toxic air felt suffocating.

Northbound toward Crosslake, this shows the heavy smoke in the area at the intersection of Crow Wing County roads 3 and 11 early Wednesday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

Once on Crow Wing County Road 3, Randy and I could see the scope of the smoke spreading far and wide, blanketing the landscape.

Driving through the smoke, past charred trees, right, burned in the Flanders Fire in May south of Crosslake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

Onward we drove, turning onto county road 11, passing stands of charred trees and cleared land from a mid-May wildfire in Mission Township. The irony was not lost on me.

Mile after mile, we traveled in smoky conditions. In Crosby, life appeared business as usual with a packed downtown, despite the smoke. Shoppers walking in and out of shops. Bikers biking.

Smoke surrounds the roadside deer statue in Deerwood. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

In Deerwood, a roadside deer statue appeared to leap through the smoke in an attempt to escape.

Wildfire smoke screens the view of Mille Lacs Lake by the roadside walleye statue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

In Garrison, visitors at the Mille Lacs Lake overlook could see the roadside statue, but not much of the lake.

Wildfire smoke backdrops a docked boat on Mille Lacs Lake Wednesday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

Down the road a bit, a guy jogged alongside U.S. Highway 169. Smoke still hung thick. I wondered how his body could tolerate the polluted air. Mine can’t.

Motorists travel through thick wildfire smoke along US Highway 169 south of Mille Lacs Lake early Wednesday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

We thought we would soon drive out of the wildfire smoke. But we drove past endless towns along highway 169—Onamia, Milaca, Princeton, Zimmerman… Not until we reached Elk River in the northwest metro two hours later did the smoke dissipate and open to blue skies. Then and only then did I feel like I could breathe easier.

I hope Minnesotans living near the 17 uncontrolled wildfires, and firefighters, plus our Canadian neighbors, can soon breathe easier, too. Rain is needed.

Looking across Horseshoe Lake late Wednesday morning, the opposite shoreline is obscured by wildfire smoke. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2026)

Yet, I know these fires can burn for weeks, ravaging the landscape, polluting the air, impacting businesses and sometimes changing vacation plans. But leaving the lake cabin a day early to escape the smoke is nothing, truly nothing, in the story of wildfires.

TELL ME: Are you being affected by wildfires? If yes, I’d like to hear your story.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Outside the grocery store June 27, 2026

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:02 PM
Tags: , , , , , , ,
I crafted this sign in February to carry during protests in Faribault. My message remains relevant today in my community. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo by Randy Helbling)

THIS MORNING, outside a Faribault grocery store, I observed a White man overtly express his disgust for three Somalis. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, looking directly at them.

I knew exactly what he meant. And it made me sick to hear the Lord’s name taken in vain by this man who clearly held nothing but disdain for Somalis. His tone of voice, his word choice, the way he looked at the trio told me precisely how he felt. And it was not loving, accepting or kind.

Here’s the situation leading to the man’s outburst: A Somali man, returning his cart to the grocery store cart corral, offered his cart to a Somali mom and her son heading into the grocery store. The cart rolled a short ways across the pavement. Not toward anyone. Not toward any vehicle. But it was enough to prompt the White guy to emphatically state, “Jesus Christ!”

I was so taken aback by his two words that I turned around and looked at him. He didn’t see me. He was walking away toward his parked vehicle. But I hope he felt the heat of the fire flaming from my eyes. Such intolerance does not sit well with me.

Onward I went with my grocery shopping, crossing paths occasionally with the Somali mom and her son, about 13. I waited in the check out line behind them, observed the son unloading groceries and then packing them to wheel out in his cart.

As I walked toward my vehicle, I saw the boy wheeling his cart back toward the grocery store. I stopped him. “I’m so proud of you for helping your mom,” I said after confirming the woman was his mother. His face lit up into a broad smile. “Thank you,” he said.

Two words. Beautiful. Appreciative. And nothing at all like the words spoken by the man who failed to see what I saw—a mom and her son heading into the grocery store on a Saturday morning. Just like me.

© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Pi or pie March 14, 2025

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 2:54 PM
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
Pecan pie served at a church event. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

MY GRANDSON UNDERSTANDS pi. I don’t. Did I mention that Isaac only recently turned six and is in kindergarten? His dad, a math major and actuary, taught him about pi some time ago.

Today my daughter texted a photo of Isaac displaying the pi formula, as he wrote it number-by-number. Isaac wanted to stay home from school so he didn’t miss Pi Day. Not sure what he would miss since his mom is, like me, mathematically-challenged and Dad was working. But who understands how a six-year-old mathematician’s mind works? Not me.

Given he couldn’t skip school, Isaac informed his mom that he would drink an infinite amount of water today because pi is infinite. That seems logical, although I would opt for an infinite amount of pie.

To all of you math nerds (and I mean that in the kindest way)—and that includes my son, a son-in-law, granddaughter, Isaac and a sister-in-law—enjoy your pi. I’ll never understand. But pie? Yup, that I understand.

One of my favorite places to purchase homemade pie is at the North Morristown Fourth of July celebration. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

For all you pie lovers, here’s an easy-to-make, healthy pie that is a family favorite. What types of pie do you especially like?

Chocolate Tofu Pie

10-12 oz. soft silken tofu

10 oz. dark chocolate chips

1-2 tsp. vanilla

9” graham cracker pie crust

In blender, blend tofu until smooth. Add vanilla. Blend again. Melt chocolate chips. Add melted chocolate to tofu in blender and mix thoroughly until smooth. Pour into pie crust. Refrigerate for 1-2 hours minimum. This keeps well in the fridge for several days. Serve with sliced strawberries, optional.

Tips: If you can’t find soft silken tofu, soft or firm will work. It just takes a lot more time to blend. Cut the tofu into chunks for easier blending. Also, if you are serving this to kids or picky adults, don’t mention the word “tofu.”

© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

There’s something rotten in the state of the garage July 20, 2023

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:01 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2018 used for illustration only)

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a true story, with some embellishments.

Following a four-hour search Tuesday, a Faribault man discovered the source of a foul odor inside his Willow Street garage—a dead critter tentatively identified as a shrew. The black mole-like creature was found trapped inside the wall behind a large shelving unit.

The discovery came just as the homeowner was about to request assistance from the Southeastern Minnesota Joint Response Team’s cadaver dog. “The stench was oppressive, more toxic than Canadian wildfire smoke,” the man told a local newspaper reporter.

Local animal control officials declined to comment on the situation, citing data privacy laws. However, a department spokesperson stated that property owners are responsible for disposing of dead shrews, mice, moles and other small animals inside buildings and in their yards when there is no risk to the public.

The homeowner, who wished to remain anonymous, removed the decomposing shrew, doused the deadly scene with bleach, then flung his garage doors wide open. He also used a box fan to circulate the air. “Even after many hours, the place still stunk,” he said. “And my garage is a mess. I had to move everything and crawl on my hands and knees trying to find the dead thing.” Bottle flies eventually helped him pinpoint the location.

“I never want to go through this again,” the man said Wednesday morning as he moved shelves and other items in his garage back in to place. “It’s not like I just have a lawnmower, snowblower, bikes and yard tools. This is a working man’s garage.”

TELL ME: Do you have a similar totally true or embellished true story?

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Love in a bouquet of lilacs May 18, 2023

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
Wisconsin lilacs from Randy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2023)

IN 41 YEARS OF MARRIAGE, Randy and I have always been together on our wedding anniversary. But this May 15, he was 583 miles away in Lafayette, Indiana. Monday didn’t feel at all like a celebratory day with my husband gone. But I understood. He left southern Minnesota on Friday to attend our son’s graduation with a master’s of science degree from Purdue University. My vestibular neuronitis symptoms made travel and attending the Sunday evening commencement unmanageable. This was one of those moments in life when I experienced profound disappointment.

And so our anniversary passed on Monday with a phone call and loving text messages exchanged. I knew Randy would be home the next day, which was a gift in itself.

When he rolled into the driveway at 1:15 pm Tuesday after an overnight stay with our daughter and her husband in Madison, Wisconsin, my heart filled with gratitude for his safe return and overflowed with love in his presence. One long embrace later, and we were unpacking the van.

And then Randy said, “I have one more thing.” This dear dear husband of mine reached into the back of the van and pulled out a bouquet of lilacs. I stood there, overwhelmed with emotion at his thoughtfulness. I cried. We embraced again. Each May Randy cuts a bouquet of lilacs (usually at a city park) and brings them home to me. It’s part of our history, our story.

This May that story began in Madison, 271 miles to the southeast of Faribault, about a half-way point to Lafayette. When Randy stayed with Miranda and John en route to Indiana, he noticed lilacs blooming on the next-door neighbor’s bush. So on the return trip and his second overnight stay, he remembered those lilacs, asked for permission to take some and then cut two generous branches. John found a vase. Randy added water and then the lovely lilacs.

Some 4.5 hours later, Randy was pulling that clutch of lilacs from the van. I smashed the woody ends with a hammer for better water intake, added more water to the vase and then set the bouquet on a vintage chest of drawers. Soon the heady scent perfumed our living room.

Now each time I pass those lilacs, breathe in their intoxicating sweetness, I think of my dear dear husband. I think of his love for me and me for him. And I think of how something as seemingly simple as a bouquet of lilacs gathered in a Madison yard bring me such joy. Randy’s unexpected gift compensated for his absence on our 41st wedding anniversary. I feel so loved and cherished.

Thank you, Randy, for your thoughtfulness and love.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“The Great Invader,” neither fable nor fairy tale February 2, 2021

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
Tags: , , , , , , ,
Edited painting by Ruby from the 2018 student art show at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

ONCE UPON A TIME, in The Land of Plenty…

Ah, a fairy tale, you say. Not exactly. Rather, this is a story rooted in reality. A story with a main character who, for ease of writing, shall be identified in secondary references as “he.” Not that The Great Invader is male.

So let’s dive into the story. Once upon a time in The Land of Plenty, The Great Invader landed, making himself comfortably at home. He was, by nature, a traveler. But he wasn’t the type of guest you’d knowingly invite into your home. You know the kind. Ungrateful. Demanding. Messy. And mean, just plain mean. Because of those undesirable traits, he soon found himself on the road, hopping from place to place under a guise of masterful deception. West Coast to East Coast. Then to the South and Up North and to the Midwest. He wanted, above all, to avoid detection and negative publicity.

But word soon got out about The Great Invader. Scientists found him especially fascinating. The more they studied the strange-looking traveler with his signature spiky hair, the more alarmed they grew. They realized he was much more than he appeared. Dangerous. He left a path of death and destruction wherever he went. Yes, that’s a cliché. But it fits.

The scientists warned about the intruder and suggested ways to deal with him. By then they’d studied him in their labs and determined that he traveled mostly by air. No ticket required. “Wear masks,” public health officials who collaborated with the scientists, advised. “Distance yourself from others. Avoid crowds. If you’re sick or feel like you’re coming down with something, stay home.” All of those tactics would discourage The Great Invader. But these proactive protocols were especially difficult for some people in The Land of Plenty to hear, let alone follow. They didn’t like anyone telling them what to do.

The Great Invader was acutely aware of these efforts to stop his adventures. He also recognized the discontent and division spreading across the land like a California wildfire. He needed a plan. And he didn’t have to think too hard. He’d simply rely on people who doubted scientists, who took little stock in warnings from health officials, who spread false information, especially via social media. People who could be a voice. He didn’t much care if that voice was loud or insidiously quiet.

As the months passed, The Great Invader found his hands-off strategy working quite well. He traveled to nearly every corner of The Land of Plenty. Even to the smallest village, where the villagers never dreamed he would visit and leave his imprint. “Why would The Great Invader come here? We have no great theaters or art museums or sports arenas or five-star restaurants or any major tourist attractions,” the villagers reasoned. So many went on with life as usual. Yet, an undercurrent of concern began to bubble when evidence of The Great Invader’s presence surfaced in the remotest of villages.

Meanwhile, across The Land of Plenty, scientists, health and government officials, and even journalists, were tracking The Great Invader on his journey around the country. And the world. They soon discovered they were no longer dealing with a sole sojourner, but rather many with magical powers. The spiky haired traveler had reproduced millions, if not billions, of times and created new versions of himself. This frightened the scientists, who by then had called upon experts to develop a battle plan. They needed to stop the traveler as he asserted his deadly powers. So researchers created a powerful potion to protect the people.

Soon squabbles arose as to who would get the potion first. The Great Invader laughed. He thrived on chaos, confusion and discontent. And lies. He admired selfishness.

He also secretly applauded those who defied common sense and science. He reveled, especially, in those in The Land of Plenty who refused to wear face masks. He celebrated every single person who wore their masks below their noses. And he saw plenty of those, whom he considered valued allies. The mask-less and the half-maskers allowed The Great Invader to travel with ease. If he found himself temporarily removed from a region, he just moved on for a while, only to return when people thought he’d permanently left.

And so, while the people of the land claimed all sorts of indignities brought on by The Great Invader and even tried to stop distribution of the powerful potion, he continued mapping his routes, plotting strategies and documenting his travels in his Once Upon a Time journal.

#

NOTE: In every story there are truths, this one no exception. To all who have encountered The Great Invader/COVID-19 at his worst, I am sorry.

Observations in my community of Faribault sparked the idea for this story. As COVID-19 infections and deaths rise in Rice County, I see too many individuals in public who are wearing masks below their noses and/or mouths or not masking at all. I am beyond frustrated. We’re not talking just a few people. While I shopped at a local big box retailer, a smaller discount store and grocery stores recently, I saw perhaps 30 individuals who were half-maskers, plus a mask-less couple and children old enough to wear masks (but who were unmasked). Employees were among those half-maskers. I implore the people of Faribault to, please, just wear a tight-fitting, multi-layered mask, and wear it over your mouth AND nose. It’s not that difficult.

© Copyright 2021 Audrey Kletscher Helbling