FOR WEEKS, RANDY AND I wanted to drive the four hours to Madison, Wisconsin, to visit our second daughter and her family. But each time, one of us was sick with or recovering from a cold. We were not about to make the trip until we were both fully healthy. Last weekend we were.
Friday morning we packed, loaded the van, then hit the road, crossing the Mississippi River into Wisconsin at La Crosse. That marks about the half-way point from Faribault to Madison. By early afternoon we’d arrived at our daughter and son-in-law’s home in the capital city.
I couldn’t exit the van fast enough. I wanted to see my grandson. Everett was born in mid-January and I’ve only seen him once in person since then. Video chats and photos filled the gap. But they are not the same, as we all know.
That sweet baby boy, who was an even 10 pounds at birth, now weighs nearly 17 pounds. He’s filled out. He’s smiling, cooing, interacting. And this grandma couldn’t have been happier. I watched him, cuddled him, played with him, read to him, talked to him, kissed him, rocked him, fed him, burped him, rubbed his tummy… Randy and I sent the parents out on a dinner date so they could have time alone together and we could have time alone with our grandson.
There’s nothing quite like spending time with a baby, especially a dear one, to make you forget about all the craziness happening in the world. And we know there’s plenty of chaos and reasons to feel concerned on multiple levels right now. I needed to be with Everett…to calm my spirit, to distract me, to remind me of love, of peace, of hope for the future.
In the days I spent with Everett, we bonded, grew our love for one another, gazed into each other’s eyes. Precious precious moments that I hold now in my memory, in my heart. I miss him so much already.
I called him sweet baby, darling boy, my love, all terms of endearment that carried a heart full of love.
When I read It’s Hard to Be a Baby, a picture book written by Cheryl B. Klein and illustrated by Juana Medina, to Everett, his mama and I laughed. Babies have no idea, none, how difficult it is to be an adult sometimes. I’m thankful they don’t. But I suppose babies do struggle occasionally when we adults can’t figure out why they’re crying. Are they hungry, cold, tired, in need of a diaper change, bored…? None of us have quite figured out why Everett is so enamored with the living room ceiling fan. It’s not even turning. Yet he smiles broadly and coos every time he sees that fixture. It makes him so happy.
I love watching my second daughter with her son. Miranda’s a natural. So loving and tender, deeply in love with this baby who nearly cost her her life. She experienced severe postpartum hemorrhaging after Everret’s difficult birth. He was big; she is not. Miranda needed blood transfusions. A team of doctors and other medical staff at UnityPoint Health-Meriter Hospital in Madison worked to stop the bleeding and save her. I shall be forever grateful to them. This was a reminder that, yes, there can be complications and women can still die during childbirth.
Since Miranda became a mom, I feel, too, a strengthening of our relationship in this shared experience of motherhood. I’m the mother of three, the grandmother of three. Two of my grandkids live only 35 minutes away. But not Everett, and that’s hard. So I whispered in his ear, “Move closer to Minnesota.” Then I turned to ask my daughter, “Did you hear that?” She did.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
An April 1 commentary about candy, but not really April 1, 2025
Tags: April 1, April Fool's Day, candy, commentary, fiction, opinion, short story, The Land of Plenty, thoughts
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.
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.
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.
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