The Northern Lights, photographed northeast of Faribault near Cannon City (with a treeline in the foreground) around 9 p.m. Tuesday, November 11. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2025)
IT TOOK A LIFE TIME, but I finally saw the Northern Lights for the first time. Ever. And they were poetic, artistic, inspiring, incredible, wondrous, glorious…all the adjectives you can use to describe a dark night sky colored with streaks of green, red and pink.
Randy and I were sitting comfortably in the warmth of our southern Minnesota home Tuesday evening when our son texted that he could see the Northern Lights even in the city lights of Boston. A photo proved it. Then the daughter who lives 35 minutes to the north of us texted that they, too, could see the lights in Lakeville, south of the Twin Cities. Photos proved it.
We popped up, grabbed our coats and set out to see for ourselves. We didn’t have to drive far into the countryside before we noticed the first streaks of light. Turning onto a gravel road, we parked, stepped outside and turned our eyes heavenward. Then we eventually tried to figure out how to photograph the majestic scene above us on our smartphones, with only minimal success.
While I would have loved some spectacular images, what matters most is that I saw, with my own eyes, that which I’ve wanted to see my entire life. Others were doing the same. We counted about a dozen vehicles parked along rural roads, the occupants gazing skyward.
This imprinted upon me how something like the Northern Lights can bring people outdoors, appreciating this beautiful natural world that surrounds us and, which on this November evening, put on a spectacular light show.
TELL ME: Have you seen the Northern Lights? When and where? How would you describe them?
I love to follow gravel roads into the countryside, here northeast of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
FOR THOSE OF US raised on farms, autumn draws us into the countryside like moths navigating toward a porch light.
At the bottom of a steep hill, a grain truck sits beside cornfields, unharvested to the left, and with harvest in progess, right. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
It is the sights, sounds and smells of harvest that pull me into the land, deep into rural Minnesota this time of year. Here farmers labor to bring in the crops before winter settles in.
A farm site northeast of Faribault hugs fields. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
For me, this is a sensory experience that takes me back six decades to the southwestern Minnesota crop and dairy farm of my childhood. While farm equipment has changed and most farmers farm much more land than my dad ever did, harvest is still harvest.
Picking corn northeast of Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
A farmer steers his combine toward a grain truck to unload just harvested corn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
Transferring corn from combine to grain truck. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
Dust flies as combines chomp across corn and soybean fields. Engines roar. Golden kernels of corn and orbs of soybeans flow from combines into trucks and grain wagons. The land smells of earth and drying fields, a familiar scent even now decades removed from farm life.
Corn flows from combine into grain truck. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
I can almost feel the pressure farmers experience while they race against Mother Nature to finish the harvest. Long days and nights in the field are all part of harvesting as farmers gather in a growing season of efforts. And then hope for good crop prices.
West of Montgomery a tractor pulls a grain wagon along a gravel road near Richter Woods County Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
There’s so much uncertainty in farming. So much hinging on weather, the economy, the market. So many decisions to make about when to sell, when to store, when to invest in new equipment and much more. I couldn’t handle the stress.
This time of year, parked grain trucks are a common site along fields and roads, this one by a cornfield in the Nerstrand area. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
Farming is not easy with its risks and challenges and uncertainties. Yet, there’s a certain reward for crop farmers in seeing seeds they’ve sown germinate and grow into thriving plants under the spring and summer sun. There’s a certain satisfaction in harvesting those mature crops each September and October.
Northeast of Faribault, a colorful tree line backdrops harvested fields. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
And for me, raised on the land and witness to many harvests, I feel memories rushing back as I watch combines move across farm fields deep in the southern Minnesota countryside. I feel reconnected to the land, the place that embraced and helped shape me as a person, writer, photographer and poet.
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 copyrightedfile 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.
#
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.
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.
I looked to a second floor window of the Arts Center of Saint Peter to see this word. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2024)
AS A WRITER, I’m drawn to words. Perhaps that’s why I appreciate signs, slogans, even interesting messages on t-shirts such as “I put ketchup on my ketchup.” I spotted a guy in Faribault recently wearing a ketchup tee and told him I liked his shirt. I appreciated the humor. It was his second compliment of the day, he said. I’m not surprised given an American obsession with the condiment. I mean, my older brother squirted ketchup on his potatoes when we were kids. And most people can’t eat fries without ketchup. I can.
A t-shirt sold by a vendor at Montgomery, Minnesota’s Czech May Day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Then there’s the t-shirt I saw for sale earlier this year at a Czech celebration in Montgomery. In white letters on black fabric, the noun, Czech girl, was defined “like a normal girl but cooler.” I guess I will never be Czech cool since my heritage is German.
Bohemian pride in Montgomery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Nor will I hold Bohemian power or pride as printed on two buttons worn by a man in traditional Czech attire at the same Montgomery event. He was in the right place, Minnesota’s Czech triangle, to be sporting those ethnic-proud buttons.
Powerful words in Montgomery, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
But I saw one identifier in Montgomery that proved relatable. And that was “Hope Dealer” displayed on a downtown storefront window. Hope happens to be one of my favorite words, one I’ve leaned into often during challenging times in my life. There’s nothing quite like hope to focus thoughts on difficult days. In Montgomery, “Hope Dealer” marks a substance abuse treatment center, which offers hope to those who walk through the door. The noun applies to me when I offer hope to someone who needs to be uplifted, encouraged and supported, maybe even inspired.
Identifying license plate on a Captain Marvel-themed car. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
Sometimes superheroes inspire as seen on a flashy purple car parked at a downtown Faribault Car Cruise Night this summer. Captain Marvel themed the car. The Minnesota license plate, CPTMRVL, did not escape my notice. This car owner clearly identifies with the positive superhuman powers of Captain Marvel.
Identifying art at Makeshift Accessories. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2025)
Over in Northfield at Makeshift Accessories, a home-grown shop featuring art crafted from primarily recycled materials, I found a sign that fits me—MN G1RL. It’s made from Minnesota license plate letters and a single number cobbled together. The rustic look appeals to me. But mostly, it’s the words I appreciate. I am a life-long Minnesota girl. If I were to define MN G1RL, I’d write “like a normal girl but stronger.” You’ve got to be strong to survive our long, harsh winters (although they are not as long and harsh as they once were).
Whether you’re from Minnesota or elsewhere matters not. Whether you’re into superheroes or not doesn’t matter to me. Whether you’re Bohemian or German or some other ethnicity matters not either. Whether you douse everything in ketchup or not, I don’t care.
But it does matter to me that you hold hope. It matters to me that you can read that singular word and feel the optimism it carries. You can carry hope in your heart. And you can dispense hope within your community through your words and actions. While you do that, notice the signs, slogans and interesting messages that surround you, that are part of everyday life wherever you live. Words matter. So says this southern Minnesota writer.
At a previous Helbling reunion, I pulled stories from a family history book to display. Some of the stories were part of a family history trivia contest I planned. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THERE’S SOMETHING TO BE SAID about the importance of family reunions. They allow us to reconnect, to celebrate, to reminisce, to build new memories, to support, encourage and appreciate one another and our shared histories.
A snippet of a photo from the July 1938 family reunion in Courtland attended by 511 Bodes. My grandparents, Lawrence and Josephine Bode, are in the center of the picture, between the adults holding the babies. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THE BODE FAMILY
My first reunion of the summer was a small gathering with a maternal aunt, uncle, cousins and my youngest brother and his wife in south Minneapolis. Aunt Rae, my godmother, was in town from Missouri. Over a table laden with breakfast foods, we talked and laughed and then afterwards moved to the screened in porch for more catching up and a discussion about the current state of affairs in this country. Mostly, though, we talked family. Since my mom’s death in 2022, I’ve felt even more the need to stay connected to her siblings and their families.
The annual Kletscher reunion always starts at noon with a potluck. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THE KLETSCHER FAMILY
The next reunion happened on the last Sunday of July. The extended Kletscher family met in Echo, a small southwestern Minnesota town some seven miles north of my hometown. There, in a community center, we filled tables with homemade foods for a noon potluck. Afterwards, I circulated in an attempt to talk to nearly everyone in attendance. This reunion has been going on annually for probably seventy years or more. I don’t always make it. But I try to because I’d rather see my cousins and my remaining aunts and uncle at a happy event rather than at a funeral.
A photo board displayed at a Helbling reunion several years ago.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
THE HELBLING FAMILY
And then there is the Helbling reunion, held last weekend at a nephew’s rural Faribault acreage. This gathering brings my husband Randy’s family together from all across Minnesota and the country. Our son flew in from Boston. Our second daughter and her family arrived from Madison, Wisconsin. Others came from Michigan, Missouri and North Dakota. This event happens annually. And each year family members travel from all over to see each other, which says a lot about just how important family connections are to all of us.
Jams and jelly won in the family raffle. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2025)
This year organizers changed things up a bit by replacing BINGO with a raffle of homemade/home-grown foods and goods. There were cookies, banana bread, multiple jams, wine, honey, engraved stones, crocheted animals, garden fresh potatoes, salsa and more, including canned rabbit meat. I brought an anthology that included five pieces of my writing. Randy brought a bottle of Cry Baby Craig’s hot sauce, an allowed raffle item given it’s made in Faribault.
Everyone went home with something. But perhaps the best part of the raffle was the money raised for the Community Action Center in Faribault via the sale of $5 raffle tickets. With $300 in raffle ticket sales and a company match by an employer, the CAC will be gifted with $600 from the Helbling family. This family cares.
Tom and Betty Helbling, circa early 1950s.
I love my husband’s family. They are a genuinely loving, kind, caring, compassionate, generous and supportive group. During the reunion, we shared family updates while the kids bounced in a cow-shaped bouncy house. During a corn hole tournament, Tristan and his teammate once again walked away with the “trophy,” a mini corn hole board. My six-year-old grandson showed me how to pound nails into a round of wood in a game of hammerschlagen. My granddaughter and I watched baby ducks swim in a pond next to a menagerie of poultry, goats and two black sheep. Kids shot rockets high into the air. Adults gathered in lawnchair clusters to chat. Slowly, as the sun set, family members began to leave. I left feeling so loved.
The evening prior, the siblings and their spouses met at the Craft Beverage Curve in Faribault for food, drinks and conversation. The new addition to the reunion proved popular. Family raved about the setting. I felt a deep sense of pride in my community. But mostly, I felt the love of the Helbling family which I have been part of for 43 years. Tom and Betty Helbling would be proud of the family they started. And they would be happy that, on the second Saturday in August each year, their family reconnects at a reunion.
The eagle is a symbol of freedom in the U.S., here in sculpture form at small town Minnesota memorial. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
IN CONSIDERING AMERICA’S 249th BIRTHDAY, I decided to write down words that immediately popped into my mind relating to this holiday, America and the current state of our country. I limited myself to 20 individual words or phrases. Here’s what flowed from my brain to pen to paper before I typed this list into my computer for you to read:
freedom
democracy
liberty
voting rights
free and fair elections
divisiveness
fear
deportations
due process
freedom of speech
freedom of the press
protests
my voice
threats
intimidation
injustice
checks and balances
life
melting pot
history
I could easily take each word or phrase and expound on how I feel about these topics in current-day America. But for today, I will allow the words to mostly stand alone while you ponder their meaning or create a list of your own. I will only state that I am saddened some of these words found their way into my brain as I think about our country on its 249th birthday. What words would be on your list?
At a recent Faribault Car Cruise Night, I spotted several vehicles sporting American flags, including this Chevy pick-up truck. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
PARADES. GET TOGETHERS. FIREWORKS. All define the Fourth of July as we gather over the long holiday weekend to mark America’s 249th birthday. I hope, in the all of this, that we never lose focus of why we are celebrating. It is, in one word, “freedom.”
In light of that, I reread The Declaration of Independence, signed on July 4, 1776, declaring our independence from British rule. It’s worthy of annual review to remind us of the past and to warn us lest we stray back to that which oppressed and suppressed us.
This document is also about our rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In fact, those are the words we most often recall when thinking about The Declaration of Independence. As an American, I value my freedoms as an individual and as a writer and photographer.
When I walk or drive through my community, I see a diversity of peoples. Those who grew up here and have deep roots in Faribault. Those who, like me, moved here from other parts of Minnesota (or the United States). And those who flew across an ocean or crossed a border for new opportunities and/or to escape war, violence, oppression and more in their homeland. I’ve talked to immigrants who have fled violence to settle in America, in my community. Their stories are heartbreaking. They just want better, safer lives for themselves and their families. What we all want.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Decades ago while attending grade school during the Cold War, each day began with The Pledge of Allegiance. My classmates and I turned to the American flag hanging in the corner of our rural southwestern Minnesota classroom, placed our hands upon our hearts and recited, “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” I always wanted to end with “Amen.” The pledge felt like a prayer to me as we spoke in a unified, reverent voice.
But now, in adulthood, I recognize that the wording of the Pledge no longer truly fits America.
Still, I feel pride in the American flag, which flies on street corners in downtown Faribault, in parks, outside government buildings, outside the Legion, in residential yards and elsewhere throughout the city. It is a visual representation of our country. Fifty stars for 50 states. Thirteen red and white stripes representing the original 13 colonies. Even the colors stand for something—red for valor and bravery, white for purity and innocence, and blue for vigilance, perseverance and justice.
On the Fourth and throughout July and summer, an abundance of flags will fly “o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” On Independence Day and in the days thereafter, we’ll don red-white-and-blue attire before stepping out the door for a backyard picnic of grilled burgers and watermelon or heading to an out-of-town celebration or gathering with friends and family.
Among all the food, conversations, music and activities on and around the Fourth, we need to pause and reflect on the word “freedom.” We need to study the long ago words of The Declaration of Independence. Words worth rereading each July in honor of our independence, our freedom.
The Star of the North centers the floor of the Minnesota State Capitol rotunda,where Melissa and Mark Hortman will lie in state today.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2009)
MINNESOTA REMAINS A STATE in mourning over the assassinations of State Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, nearly two weeks ago. Today the couple, and their golden retriever, Gilbert, also killed in the shootings, will lie in state inside the Capitol rotunda from noon to 5 p.m. The public can pay their respects in this building where Melissa served as speaker of the House and worked across the aisle to pass legislation in a divided legislature. Private funeral services are set for Saturday.
Minnesota State Representative Melissa Hortman (Photo source: Minnesota House of Representatives website)
In this moment, on this day, I hope politics and differences can be set aside to honor and remember Melissa and Mark as loving parents, neighbors, friends and colleagues. Human beings who were gunned down in their home during the early morning hours of Saturday, June 14, by a man impersonating a police officer.
The tragedy of their deaths and the shootings of Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, also inside their home on the same morning by the same man, have left an indelible mark upon Minnesota, a place where we are known for our “Minnesota Nice.” I think we’ve lost some of that in the current divisiveness within our state and country.
But it is the Hortmans’ adult children, Sophie and Colin, who have circled us back to what really matters. In a statement released days after their parents’ murders, the siblings, among other things, called for this:
“Hope and resilience are the enemy of fear. Our parents lived their lives with immense dedication to their fellow humans. This tragedy must become a moment for us to come together. Hold your loved ones a little closer. Love your neighbors. Treat each other with respect and kindness. The best way to honor our parents’ memory is to do something, whether big or small, to make our community just a little better for someone else.”
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Let’s take a closer look at some of their words. First, hope. It’s one of my favorite words because it represents the promise that things will get better. It’s not only a noun, but a verb.
Next, resilience represents strength, bouncing back from something devastating, hard, tragic. It’s possible to be resilient, especially with the support of others. I hope Sophie and Colin Hortman feel the collective support of Minnesotans. We need to lean into and on each other in this moment.
I used magnetic words to craft this message for my fridge. This is something we should all practice. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The two are asking us to come together. I’ve seen that happen after this tragedy with politicians jointly expressing their condolences and outrage over the assassinations. I hope that cohesiveness lasts. But I doubt it will. Yet, that doesn’t mean we can’t strive individually and collectively to listen, to compromise, to see each other as individuals with the same basic needs. People who laugh and cry and live and love. Separately and together.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
In honor of their parents, Sophie and Colin ask us to love, to treat each other with respect and kindness. It’s really not that hard to practice all three. We are each capable of choosing love over hate. We are capable, too, of respecting others. Choose words that uplift rather than belittle. Choose words that are nice, not mean. Choose words carefully, thoughtfully. And treat others with compassion and care. Simply be kind.
Today, as we mourn the senseless deaths of Melissa and Mark Hortman, I am grateful to their children for reminding all of us how to live our lives. In their grief, Sophie and Colin show us what we can and should be. Loving, kind, respectful. And nice.
I took this photo outside the Paradise Center for the Arts during the Faribault Car Cruise Night, the evening before the Little Fish Improv Comedy Show. (Minnesota Prairie Root copyrighted photo June 2025)
GOOGLE “Laughter is good for the soul,” and you’ll find many a reference telling you laughter is, indeed, good for you. The Bible says so in Proverbs 17:21 and elsewhere. So does the Mayo Clinic. And so do a whole lot of other sources.
Laughter relieves stress, eases depression, produces happiness and just generally makes us feel better. I’m all for those positive results, especially with the really difficult, stressful stuff happening in our country and world right now. We could all use extra doses of laughter.
Thanks to Little Fish Comedy, I laughed until my belly hurt at a Saturday, June 21, Improv Comedy Show at the Paradise Center for the Arts. I’ve previously seen this team of local actors, actresses and comedians perform and knew I needed to attend this fundraising event for the Faribault arts center. The group has raised more than $1 million for local nonprofits. I left the Paradise feeling better than when I arrived thanks to this talented crew.
It takes skill, quick thinking, creativity and a love of acting to do improv. Because the show involves audience interaction via prompts shouted to the group’s artistic director, the performance is totally unpredictable with fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants acting. These performers definitely need to stay focused while coming up with scenes, dialogue and actions that prompt laughter. No daydreaming here.
Try working words like kangaroo, lion tamer, embalming, Paris, stale baguette and organ transplantation, for example, into various skits and you begin to understand the challenge. Those were among the words shouted from the Paradise audience to those on stage.
And to make this even more difficult, the director can mix things up, limit time, blow his whistle. He’s like a referee.
(Graphic source: Little Fish Comedy)
The goal was to make the audience laugh. And we did during the Paradise show. This is family-friendly improv performed by those who work day jobs in education, IT, insurance, manufacturing and more. I appreciate that this is good, clean comedy anyone can enjoy.
And I appreciate that I can find this entertainment right here in my community. Because this was a fundraising event for the Paradise, ticket prices were discounted with a bonus buy-one-get-one-free. Randy and I are members of the arts center, meaning our ticket prices were even lower. An evening of laughter cost us less than $15.
Upon returning home and later switching on the TV for the Saturday 10 p.m. news, I understood even more the value of laughter, of escaping reality for a short time. Laughter is good for the soul. Little Fish Comedy proved that, no googling necessary.
TELL ME: Have you seen Little Fish Improv Comedy or another improv show? I’d like to hear about your experience and what you like about improv.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
The day after a mass shooting…thoughts from Minnesota August 28, 2025
Tags: Annunciation Catholic Church & School, commentary, crime, gun violence, Matt Deboer, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, Minnesota, Minnesota Lieutenant Governor Peggy Flanagan, news, shooting, thoughts, vigils, violence
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.
“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.
“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