Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Wisconsin’s rural character revealed along State Highway 21 September 22, 2016

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DRIVE THE INTERSTATE and you mostly miss the nuances of a place.

On a rainy Friday afternoon, I photographed this scene along Wisconsin Highway 21, a rural region of the state.

On a rainy Friday afternoon, I photographed this scene along Wisconsin Highway 21, a rural region of the state.

But travel a back county road or a state highway and you begin to see the details that comprise a location. Like rural Wisconsin.

Stuck behind farm equipment along Highway 21.

Stuck behind farm equipment along Highway 21.

Wisconsin State Highway 21 between Tomah and Oshkosh has become a familiar stretch of highway for my husband and me as we travel that route to reach our second daughter’s home in the Fox Valley region. It is a busy stretch of roadway which often leaves us wishing for a quicker, safer east-west route. But options are limited, especially if we don’t want to travel through the Twin Cities metro.

The natural attraction, Castle Rock, juts up from the landscape.

The natural attraction, Castle Rock, juts up from the landscape near Coloma.

So we make the best of it, watching for the cranberry bogs east of Tomah, the Amish between Coloma and Wautoma, the natural wonder of Castle Rock,

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Probably the oldest drive-in along Wisconsin Highway 21, the Milty Wilty has been in business in Wautoma for 70 years.

the Milty Wilty in Wautoma and anything that screams Wisconsin.

Small family farms abound along Wisconsin State Highway 21.

Small family farms abound along Wisconsin State Highway 21.

Highway 21 takes us past potato and dairy farms,

Hunting shacks for sale in Redgranite.

Hunting shacks for sale in Redgranite.

past hunting land and the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge, across rivers and creeks,

Businesses in downtown Redgranite, one of my favorite towns along Highway 21.

Businesses in downtown Redgranite, one of my favorite towns along Highway 21.

through small towns like Omro and Redgranite,

The names of small town bars, like this one in Redgranite, amuse me.

The names of small town bars, like this one in Redgranite, amuse me.

past bars and churches,

Roadside stands are plentiful this time of year.

Roadside stands are plentiful this time of year. Here’s one in Redgranite.

to roadside stands and Piggly Wigglies.

Posted in a front yard in Redgranite.

Posted in a front yard in Redgranite.

This route reveals so much about the character of Wisconsin. Signs for brat fries. Bars aplenty. Strong opinions voiced in handcrafted signs.

One of my favorite restaurant icons, located in Wautoma.

One of my favorite restaurant icons, located in Wautoma.

Small town diners.

Making silage.

Making silage.

Farming and fishing.

Scenes along Wisconsin State Highway 21 reflect this area's rural character.

Scenes along Wisconsin State Highway 21 reflect this area’s rural character. This is near Coloma.

Travel the interstate and you will miss most of this. But follow a state highway and you will begin to understand a place. Like rural Wisconsin.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Thoughts following an attack at a Central Minnesota mall September 20, 2016

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A vehicle travels along Interstate 90 near La Crosse in the rain Friday morning. Fog shrouds the bluffs in grey.

A vehicle travels along Interstate 90 near La Crosse, on the Minnesota side of the Mississippi River, in the rain Friday morning. Fog veils the river bluffs.

WHEN FOG DESCENDS, shrouding the landscape in a veil of grey, the value of light magnifies.

Our eyes search for light.

We look for ways to banish the grey, to illuminate our world. We want desperately to find the light and to hold it high.

Events of the past weeks have shaded our skies grey here in Minnesota—first with the discovery of Jacob Wetterling’s remains and now the stabbings of 10 individuals at Crossroads Center in St. Cloud in what appears to be a possible act of lone wolf terrorism.

That both of these major crimes happened some five miles apart in Central Minnesota is pure coincidence. But it is not lost on me that the kidnapping of 11-year-old Jacob nearly 27 years ago and the mall attack on Saturday evening are in the backyard of Garrison Keillor’s fictional Lake Wobegon.

I like to think that Lake Wobegon—the region in which some of my in-laws live—is a pastoral setting of grazing cows, church spires and old-timers playing cards at the Chatterbox Cafe. It is and it isn’t. In today’s world, no place, not even Central Minnesota, is safe.

Even so, we Minnesotans are a strong, determined and resilient lot. We will, through the greyness of these days, search for the light of goodness and of hope. Of that I am certain.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My observations as autumn teases Minnesota September 14, 2016

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As I passed Kamp Dels near Waterville recently, I noticed how the campground is emptying.

As I passed Kamp Dels near Waterville recently, I noticed how the campground is emptying.

AS MUCH AS I DON’T WANT to admit it, summer is fading into autumn here in Minnesota. I like fall. I really do. But I don’t appreciate what follows. Winter.

Just down the tree-lined road from Kamp Dels, leaves are changing color on lakeside trees.

Just down the tree-lined road from Kamp Dels, leaves are changing color on lakeside trees.

The shift in seasons began already in August with a subtle hint of color tinging select trees. Now more leaves are changing color and dropping. A leaf here, a leaf there. And before we know it, the trees are bare.

Between Waterville and Elysian sits the Cannonville Community Church.

Between Waterville and Elysian sits the Cannonville Community Church.

But I am getting ahead of the days.

Fields line a back county road between Waterville and Elysian.

Crops are changing color along a back county road between Waterville and Elysian.

For now, corn fields are morphing from green to golden. Flowers that once bloomed in vivid hues are browning, dying. Gardens are ripe with produce.

Ripening crops unfold before me near the Cannonville church.

In the rolling landscape near the Cannonville church, corn fields ripen.

The sun fades earlier. A definitive sharpness in the evening air hints of colder months ahead.

Fields and roadway stretch between Morristown and Faribault.

Fields and roadway stretch between Morristown and Faribault in rural Rice County.

I feel a certain sense of melancholy mixed with anticipation as autumn evolves, as harvest approaches. The sights, sounds, smells and tastes of September delight me. I welcome cobalt skies, splashes of red in tree lines, piles of pumpkins, candles flickering warmth and light, the comfort of a well-worn sweatshirt.

Hints of autumn are visible everywhere along this rural roadway between Morristown and Faribault.

Hints of autumn are visible everywhere along this rural roadway between Morristown and Faribault.

But I see winter knocking at the door, suitcase bulging with snowflakes.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When war becomes personal… September 13, 2016

Rows and rows of names fill the panels comprise the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall.

Rows and rows of names fill the panels comprising the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall.

WHEN WAR SEEMS IMPERSONAL, like simply a list of stats and battles, we need only read the names and hear the stories.

I remember the few stories my father shared of his time on the front lines during the Korean War. He watched his buddy blown apart by a mortar the day before Ray was to return home. Ray’s death haunted my dad. And it still haunts me, a generation removed.

Thousands came to view the temporary wall in Faribault.

Thousands came to view the temporary wall in Faribault.

The Military Mobile Museum brought equipment to the fairgrounds.

The Military Mobile Museum brought equipment to the fairgrounds.

A field of crosses honors Minnesota soldiers who have died in wars since 9/11.

A field of crosses honors Minnesota soldiers who have died in wars since 9/11.

That war story lingered as I visited the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wallviewed military equipment, chatted with veterans and walked between rows of crosses Labor Day weekend at the Rice County Fairgrounds in Faribault.

Posted near the Traveling Wall.

Posted near the Traveling Wall.

Chemical agent paper spotted inside a military vehicle.

Chemical agent paper spotted inside a military vehicle.

Even this military truck was named by soldiers.

Even this military truck was named by soldiers.

The visuals before me reflected the reality of war. When I looked closer, I discovered how soldiers, even in the thick of the Vietnam War, personalized gear and equipment. War became as personal as chemical agent paper, bullet holes in a boat, an eight of Spades playing card and the nickname “Gator” on a helmet.

Gulls and flags and names...

Gulls and flags and names…

Nothing is more personal than a name. Nearly 60,000 names are inscribed upon the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall.

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This cross in the Vietnam KIA Field of Honor memorializes Gordon Gunhus, a native of Rice County where I’ve lived for 34 years.

Visitors peruse the crosses honoring the most recent war dead from Minnesota.

Visitors peruse the crosses honoring the most recent war dead from Minnesota.

A white rose

A white rose and label mark the memorial cross for Glenn Dusbabek of Waterville, about 15 miles west of Faribault.

More names were printed upon labels and posted upon crosses at the fairgrounds, some nameplates accompanied by photos of dead soldiers.

Brent Koch is from Morgan, in my home county of Redwood.

Brent Koch is from Morgan, in my home county of Redwood.

I remembered some of those soldiers from media reports. They were sons and daughters. Buddies. Classmates. Husbands, fathers, brothers, uncles.

A close-up of a tank on display reveals the harsh words of war.

A close-up of a tank on display reveals the harsh words of war.

A collage of photos personalizes the Vietnam War.

A collage of photos personalizes the Vietnam War.

Inside a tent reserved for remembering those missing in action and those who were prisoners of war, a member of the Shattuck-St. Mary's School Crack Squad stands at rigid attention.

Inside a tent reserved for remembering those missing in action and those who were prisoners of war, a member of the Shattuck-St. Mary’s School Crack Squad stands at rigid attention.

War is difficult and horrible. There is no denying that. Men and women die. Families grieve. And soldiers live with the aftermath of their war experiences, physically and/or mentally wounded. We can make it easier for them by remembering, by honoring, by thanking and by caring for them.

An overview of the Traveling Wall (background) and the military equipment displayed recently at the Rice County Fairgrounds.

An overview of the Traveling Wall (background) and military equipment displayed recently at the Rice County Fairgrounds.

I don’t recall ever thanking my dad for his service in Korea, for the great personal sacrifices he made. I wish I had. He’s been dead for 13 ½ years now, his war stories and trauma mostly buried with him. If only I had understood in 2003 what I understand today—that he suffered greatly and that I should have listened with more compassion and understanding.

FYI: This concludes my series of posts focused on the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall exhibit in my Minnesota community.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on 9/11 September 11, 2016

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My then 8-year-old son drew this picture of a plane aimed for the twin towers a year after 9/11 for a school religion assignment. He was a third grader in a Christian school at the time and needed to think of a time when it was hard to trust God by drawing a photo illustrating that time. To this day, this drawing by my boy illustrates to me how deeply 9/11 impacted even the youngest among us

A year after the terrorist attacks, my then 8-year-old son drew this picture of a plane aimed for the twin towers. He was a third grader in a Christian school  and needed to think of a time when it was hard to trust God. To this day, this drawing by my boy illustrates to me how deeply 9/11 impacted even the youngest among us.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This post first published on September 11, 2012. Today I am republishing it (with updated numbers) in honor of those who died 15 years ago today in acts of terrorism against our county. Blessed be their memories.

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IF I WAS IN MY HOMETOWN today I would visit the cemetery just outside of Vesta, to the north along the gravel road and atop the lone hill which rises ever so slightly in a sea of ripening corn and soybean fields.

I’d walk the rows until I found the gravestones of the Kletschers, mostly clumped together, close still even in death.

I’d pause at the tombstones of my paternal great grandparents and grandparents, my father and then, finally, my Uncle Mike, the bachelor uncle who was like a second father to me and my five siblings. He lived the next farm over, farmed with our father and joined us for everyday meals and holidays. His inherent curiosity is a trait I possess.

Uncle Mike died on September 5, 2001, and was buried just days before 9/11.

Today thousands will visit graves of those who lost their lives on that horrific day 15 years ago when our nation was attacked by terrorists.

My uncle had never, as far as I know, been to New York or Washington D.C. or Pennsylvania, never traveled much. He stuck close to the prairie, close to the farm, close to the land he cherished with the depth of love only a farmer can possess.

I miss him and grieve his death with a depth of grief that comes only from loving someone deeply.

Today, on this the 15th anniversary of 9/11, countless family and friends and co-workers and others will grieve with a depth that comes from loving deeply. They may grieve privately or at public ceremonies marking the date nearly 3,000 innocent individuals lost their lives.

Some will travel to that field in Stonycreek Township in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, where the passengers of Flight 93 fought back against those who would terrorize this nation.

It is the one place I can most relate to in the whole horribleness of this American tragedy because my roots reach deep into the land. Flight 93 crashed in a field near Shanksville, a rural community of 250 in the Laurel Mountains of western Pennsylvania with a population 100 less than my Minnesota hometown.

None of this diminishes the significant impact made upon me by the terrorist-directed planes slamming into the twin towers or the destruction wreaked upon the Pentagon in urban settings.

But big cities—even though I’ve been to New York once in my life many decades ago while in college—are unfamiliar terrain, skyscrapers as foreign to me as a silo to a city-dweller.

A lone plane crashing into a field, plowing into the earth, that I understand.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Holding onto hope in the sadness of Jacob Wetterling’s death September 8, 2016

MY FINGERTIPS REST ON THE KEYBOARD. I stare at my computer screen, attempting to pull my thoughts in to words.

To the left, outside my home office, I hear the steady thrum of traffic splashing across a rain-slicked roadway. Rain drips from a Minnesota sky as grey as my mood.

I watched a live news conference and TV newscasts Tuesday afternoon on the Jacob Wetterling case. Here's the Jacob we all remember, a sweet 11-year-old boy abducted nearly 27 years ago.

I watched a live news conference and TV newscasts Tuesday on the Jacob Wetterling case. Here’s the Jacob we all remember, a sweet 11-year-old boy abducted nearly 27 years ago.

How do I write about the deep sadness I feel after Jacob Wetterling’s murderer confessed earlier this week to abducting, molesting and then shooting the 11-year-old on October 22, 1989? For 27 years the killer held his secret, revealing the truth Tuesday in court as part of a plea deal. (Danny Heinrich will never be charged for the murder of Jacob as part of the agreement, instead serving a possible maximum 20 years in prison on a single federal charge of possession of child pornography.) Last week Heinrich led investigators to Jacob’s remains next to a pasture of grazing cattle in Central Minnesota.

Surrounded by family, Patty Wetterling addresses the media and others during a Tuesday afternoon news conference. Behind Patty stands Trevor

Surrounded by family, Patty Wetterling addresses the media and others during a Tuesday afternoon news conference. Behind Patty stands Trevor to her right, overwhelmed by grief.

How do I write about the deep sadness I feel for Jacob’s family, who, along with so many Minnesotans, held onto hope that Jacob would be found alive? Watching Jacob’s brother, Trevor, during a recent news conference brings me to tears. He was biking home with Jacob and a friend on that October evening when a masked gunman took his brother at gunpoint. Trevor’s grief is visible in his closed eyes, bowed head, leaking tears and the way he leans in to his father, Jerry Wetterling.

How do I write about the deep sadness I feel as part of the sisterhood of mothers? Jacob’s mom, Patty Wetterling, has remained rock strong through all of this, advocating for children while she continued to hope. For 27 years. I cannot imagine the pain and the devastating grief. As Patty noted, until Jacob’s remains were found, he was alive. Now she knows with certainty that her little boy is gone.

As Minnesotans, how do we cope? We must grieve. Collectively. Privately.

But we must also hold onto the hope Patty inspired in us. Hope for a safer world for our children and grandchildren. We must claim hope. Because of Jacob.

TELL ME: How have you been impacted by the abduction of Jacob Wetterling and, now, by the discovery of his remains and by the killer’s confession?

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FYI: Click here to read a timeline of events posted by Minnesota Public Radio in the Jacob Wetterling case.

Click here to read specifics on how you can help keep kids safe and how you can support the Jacob Wetterling Resource Center.

Click here to read the writing of freelance writer and blogger Joy Baker, who, along with Jared Scheierl, was key in helping to solve the mystery of Jacob’s disappearance. Patty Wetterling in Tuesday’s news conference thanked them both for “stirring the pot.” Jacob’s killer admitted Tuesday in court to abducting and sexually assaulting Scheierl nine months before he took Jacob. A DNA match confirmed that assault against the then 12-year-old in Cold Spring. The statute of limitations has expired in that case, thus Heinrich cannot be prosecuted for that crime.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Emotions evoked, photos taken at the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall September 7, 2016

vietnam-wall-80-helmet

This helmet was among several displayed inside a tent where I met a Vietnam War veteran Saturday afternoon in Faribault.

WE STAND INSIDE AN ARMY GREEN military tent viewing hand grenades, playing cards, helmets and an array of items I am certain trigger difficult memories for the man beside me. He is a veteran of the Vietnam War.

vietnam-wall-79-manual

A graphic reveals hiding places to soldiers.

A close-up of names on the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall.

A close-up of names on the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall.

Even the soldiers' playing cards were military themed.

Military themed cards provided a diversion for soldiers during the Vietnam War.

I thank him for his service and ask about his time in Nam. He helped process soldiers’ bodies to be shipped home to loved ones. He says no more. But his pain is evident, confirmed by the man beside him. His brother remembers how his soldier sibling arrived home, clearly suffering. Today he’s OK, the aging veteran assures. That comforts me.

The veteran volunteering in the MIA-POW tent told me his wife sewed a pillow from this over-sized t-shirt.

The veteran volunteering in the MIA-POW tent told me his wife sewed a pillow from this over-sized t-shirt. It delivers a powerful message.

Inside a nearby tent, I stand beside another man, tall with a shock of thick white hair. He, too, served in Vietnam and I thank him. He is guarding displays that honor prisoners of war and those missing in action. This vet doesn’t share specifics either. But when I ask if the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall displayed across the way at the Rice County Fairgrounds and related events help, he says, yes. That comforts me as I hug him and exit the tent with How Great Thou Art coursing through loudspeakers.

Grief in a note and mums left at the wall in honor of Rich Lozinski, Class of 1958, Minneota, Minnesota.

Grief in a note and mums left at the traveling wall.

I pause, remove my eyeglasses, wipe tears from my eyes.

A Vietnam veteran views the traveling wall on Saturday afternoon.

A Vietnam War veteran views the traveling wall on Saturday afternoon.

If visiting the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall and related items recently showcased in Faribault impacts me this much, how much more were veterans and their loved ones affected?

The traveling wall drew thousands to Faribault during a several day showing at the Rice County Fairgrounds.

The traveling wall drew thousands to Faribault during a recent several day showing at the Rice County Fairgrounds.

Twice I toured the temporary memorial site in Faribault. Observing. Touching the raised letters of names on the wall. Photographing. Listening. And, in my mind, remembering the turbulence of the Vietnam War and the protests that accompanied it and how these veterans suffered in war and back home in the U.S.

I lifted my camera and pointed the lens down at a panel filled with names of soldiers.

I lifted my camera and pointed the lens down at a panel filled with names of soldiers.

Nothing brings war home quite like a 360-foot long replica memorial wall or speaking to a veteran.

Visitors left bouquets to honor fallen soldiers.

Visitors left bouquets to honor fallen soldiers.

Ceremonial feathers and a peace pipe honor Blair Two Crow.

Ceremonial feathers and a peace pipe honor Blair Two Crow of Shannon County, South Dakota. Read his story by clicking here.

Looking down at Blair Two Crow's memorial placed next to the traveling wall.

Looking down at Blair Two Crow’s memorial placed next to the traveling wall.

A framed letter of commendation with a soldier's notes was left at the wall.

A framed letter of commendation with a soldier’s note was left at the wall. The letter was written to David M. Linders and signed by the lieutenant commander of the U.S. Navy.

More flowers left at the wall.

More flowers left at the wall.

Beer, cigarettes and a lighter to remember a soldier.

Beer, cigarettes and a lighter to remember a soldier.

I witnessed a reverence at the wall, a personal connection to the names inscribed thereon. Flowers, a peace pipe, a letter, cans of Busch Light, two cigarettes and a red lighter—all honored soldiers.

A woman does rubbings of names on the wall.

A woman does rubbings of names on the wall.

These men and women were loved.

Multiple wreaths featured words of remembrance.

Multiple wreaths featured words of remembrance.

The ultimate honorary salute to a fallen soldier.

The ultimate honorary salute to a fallen soldier.

Thousands remembered as they visited the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall in Faribault.

Thousands remembered as they visited the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall in Faribault.

And they are remembered.

FYI: Check back for more photos from the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall and related items showcased during a recent 6-day event in Faribault.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

From southern Minnesota: Grieving Jacob Wetterling & the impact of his abduction September 5, 2016

Jacob Wetterling. Photo credit: Jacob Wetterling Resource Center

Jacob Wetterling. Photo credit: Jacob Wetterling Resource Center

HER WORDS STUNNED ME. Jacob Wetterling’s remains were found, my eldest daughter told me Saturday afternoon. I had been blissfully oblivious, enjoying the final long weekend of summer.

Some 122 miles to the northwest, a Central Minnesota family was grieving. And now a state is grieving at the news that Jacob’s remains were uncovered near a pasture of grazing cattle. The man suspected in the 11-year-old’s abduction reportedly directed investigators to the pastoral site last week.

On October 22, 1989, a masked gunman grabbed Jacob, who was biking with his brother and best friend to a convenience store a half-mile from their rural St. Joseph home. His remains were found 30 miles away to the southwest just outside Paynesville.

The 1989 crime rocked our state. And the nation. For 27 years, we hoped along with Jacob’s parents, Jerry and Patty Wetterling, that their son would return home alive. Jacob’s abduction forever changed us.

I was a young mom at the time with two daughters, ages 3 ½ and nearly two. I remember teaching them to kick and scream and to run. Run. Run. Run. I remember wrapping my arms around my eldest, role-playing an abductor. She remembers none of those lessons. For that I am grateful, that I did not emotionally scar her with the fear I felt following Jacob’s disappearance.

If a stranger could snatch a pre-teen boy biking in rural Minnesota, surely no place, no child, was safe.

Mayberry innocence vanished on the day Jacob vanished.

But, led by Jacob’s mom, Patty Wetterling, we held onto hope. Hope that Jacob would be found alive. As the days passed, then the weeks, months, years and decades, the reality of Jacob ever coming safely home seemed less likely. Still, we hoped, because hope is easier than believing otherwise.

FYI: Click here to learn how a Central Minnesota blogger, Joy Baker, investigated decades old crimes she believed were linked to Jacob Wetterling’s abduction. Her efforts prove that sometimes you have to follow your gut and pursue opportunities presented to you to find the truth.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

From Faribault: Visiting the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall September 4, 2016

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Traveling Vietnam wall, #37 vet viewing wall

A Vietnam veteran, who was also serving as a guard for the traveling wall, studies the names thereon.

I DIDN’T EXPECT IT. But the tears came as I spoke with Vietnam veterans while touring the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall on Saturday in Faribault.

This photo in particular, among many on display, struck me.

This photo in particular, among many on display, struck me because of the soldier’s eyes and because of the words on his helmet.

It’s emotional—seeing the pain in eyes, hearing the pain in words, feeling the pain in silence.

An overview of the scene at the Rice County Fairgrounds Saturday afternoon with the wall in the background.

An overview of the scene at the Rice County Fairgrounds Saturday afternoon with the wall in the background.

If you live near this southeastern Minnesota city and have not yet viewed the wall, consider finding time between now and early Monday afternoon to visit the Rice County Fairgrounds.

The words and all those soldiers' names personalize the Vietnam War on the wall.

The words and all those soldiers’ names personalize the Vietnam War on the wall.

If you’re like me, this will prove a powerful, cathartic experience. Healing, for me, came in thanking several Vietnam veterans decades after they should have been thanked and welcomed home.

FYI: Click here to learn more about the wall’s presence in Faribault. And check back to see more photos from my two visits to the wall.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A preview of the Traveling Vietnam Memorial opening today in Faribault September 1, 2016

These electronic signs are stationed by the Rice County Highway Department building along Minnesota State Highway 3 across from the fairgrounds. They welcomed Vietnam veterans during Wednesday's processional.

These electronic signs are stationed by the Rice County Highway Department building along Minnesota State Highway 3 across from the fairgrounds. They welcomed Vietnam veterans during Wednesday’s processional into Faribault from Owatonna.

IN THE STILL OF THE EVENING, as the sun drenched the last day of August in golden light, a handful of volunteers wrapped up a long day. For a year they’d been planning for this date—the arrival of the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall in Faribault. Late Wednesday afternoon, the pick-up truck and trailer carrying memorial wall panels drove into this southeastern Minnesota city with an honorary escort of bikes, cars, military vehicles and more.

The back of the trailer carrying the wall.

The back of the trailer carrying the wall.

And now, as dusk descended, that trailer rested on a grassy expanse at the Rice County Fairgrounds. Thursday morning volunteers began erecting the 360-foot long by 8-foot high replica wall which officially opens this evening for public viewing at a 6:30 p.m ceremony. There’s a soft opening this afternoon. The wall will remain open 24/7 through the closing ceremony at 1 p.m. on Labor Day.

Signs await posting.

Signs await posting.

But before the crowds arrive—up to 20,000 are expected throughout the wall’s duration in Faribault—I got a preview of what visitors can expect. And what I saw touched me deeply. I can only imagine how the wall, still boxed in the trailer during my pre-unveiling perusal, will impact me.

A close-up of an image on the back of the wall trailer.

A close-up of an image on the back of the wall trailer reveals the number who served.

I could see the emotion in Douglas, a life-long Faribault resident and Vietnam vet I met Wednesday evening while at the fairgrounds. I thanked him for his service. He grew quiet when I mentioned the horrors of war he experienced. But his mood shifted when I talked to him about the earlier processional into town. He appreciated the long overdue public show of respect and welcome home.

Peter Van Sluis, along with his wife, Virginia, and veteran Kirk Mansfield, led efforts to bring the wall to Faribault.

Peter Van Sluis, along with his wife, Virginia, and veteran Kirk Mansfield, led efforts to bring the wall to Faribault.

Inside the information center tent, key organizer Peter Van Sluis bent over his laptop working on last-minute details. We chatted for awhile, Van Sluis pointing me toward the temporary lounge for veterans who likely will need a place to gather their thoughts, to grieve, to cope, to lean on one another.

Signage welcomes veterans only to the veterans' lounge.

Signage welcomes veterans to the veterans’ only lounge.

Locals brought in their personal furniture to furnish the lounge.

Locals brought in their personal furniture to furnish the lounge.

Inside I discovered couches and easy chairs circled into comfy coves, like a family living room. Members of the community pulled the furniture from their homes for the event.

Flags line a wall.

Flags line a wall.

A map posted in the veterans' lounge.

A map posted in the veterans’ lounge.

One of many photos displayed.

One of many Vietnam War photos displayed.

Signs of support, flags, even a map of Vietnam, transform this space from fairgrounds beer garden to veterans’ lounge. In an adjoining room, photos from the Vietnam War are staged on tables and along walls.

 

Vietnam wall preview, #19 Langhorst cross

 

Vietnam wall preview, #18 stacked crosses

 

Vietnam wall preview, #21 two soldiers' crosses

 

Outside, a cluster of white crosses drew me to view images of soldiers, all Minnesotans who have died in wars since 9/11. I imagined the grief of PFC Moises A Langhorst’s family as I studied the freckled face of this 19-year-old killed in Iraq in 2004.

Visitors can view items, like this jeep, part of a military exhibit.

Visitors can view items, like this jeep, part of a military exhibit.

Several military tents have been set up at the fairgrounds.

Several military tents have been set up at the fairgrounds.

A separate field of crosses will honor those from a several county area who died in Vietnam. Such a display personalizes war. And for many of those who visit the Traveling Vietnam Memorial Wall and the accompanying displays, including items from a military museum, the impact will feel deeply personal.

Used during the Vietnam War, this 1968 boat is pocked with bullet holes. A viewing stairway will give visitors access to an interior view.

Used during the Vietnam War, this 1968 boat is pocked with bullet holes. A viewing stairway will allow visitors to see the interior.

I noticed this sticker on the end of the boat.

I noticed this sticker on the end of the boat.

I listened as a Vietnam vet, standing next to a military boat used in Vietnam, mentioned the expected arrival of another boat in which soldiers were blown apart. As the daughter of a Korean War veteran, I cringed inwardly, remembering similar stories shared by my combat soldier father. None of this is easy.

The area set aside for protesters on the northwest side of the fairgrounds.

The area set aside for protesters, and posted as such, on the northwest side of the fairgrounds.

Organizer Van Sluis expects some veterans to struggle. And he also expects protesters of the Vietnam War. A special area has been set aside for them. I’d never thought of that possibility. And, as I considered likely protests, I thought, yes, this too is part of living in a free country.

The front of the wall trailer delivers a message of honor and respect.

The front of the wall trailer delivers a message of honor and respect.

It is because of the sacrifices of our military men and women that we are free, and remain free.

FYI: Click here to see a full schedule of events, for directions to the Rice County Fairgrounds and more.

© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling