Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Mother’s Day reflections of love & gratitude May 10, 2024

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The only photo I have of my mom holding me. My dad is holding my brother Doug. (Minnesota Prairie Roots)

MOTHER’S DAY. It’s a day that can feel both sad and joyful. Sad if your mom is no longer living. Mine isn’t. Joyful if you have children, no matter their age.

It is a Sunday of gathering, of remembering, of honoring, of celebrating motherhood. Perhaps with a meal together. Perhaps with flowers delivered or received. Whatever, however, the focus should be one of love and gratitude.

I feel grateful for my lovely mom, who taught me kindness, compassion and care. Sure, she had her moments. Who wouldn’t with six kids spanning 12 years? We tested her patience more than once. But that didn’t diminish her love for us. Her own mother died at age 48, when I was only two months old, and I cannot imagine how difficult that was for my mom and her three younger siblings. So treasure your mom. Time together is precious.

The card I made for my mom as a child. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo)

So are words shared. As a writer, I value greeting cards as a way of expressing love and other emotions. My mom did, too. She saved cards, including a simple card I created for her in elementary school for Mother’s Day. I cut a flower photo from a seed catalog and pasted it to the front of a folded piece of paper, then printed I love you Mother. Audrey inside. The editor in me wants to add a comma and change the formal Mother to Mom. But I doubt Mom much cared. She was just happy to get a handcrafted card from her eldest daughter.

Likewise, I love getting greeting cards from my now-grown children. One arrived in the mail today from my second daughter, who lives 260 miles away in Madison, Wisconsin. I last saw her at Christmas. Her job as a letter carrier for the US Postal Service keeps her working 10-12 hours daily, usually six days a week. So seldom does Miranda have adequate time off to travel to Minnesota. I couldn’t help but think, as I opened her Mother’s Day card, that Miranda was likely dropping similar cards into mailboxes along her route.

Mothers always appreciate flowers. These were a gift from my daughter Amber and her family in 2021. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2021)

She chose a lovely floral design card that is certainly “me.” And then my sweet daughter penned the most loving message. One that left me in tears. Hope you have a nice, relaxing day surrounded by the people you love. We love & miss you. Love, John & Miranda.

A plane leaves Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

I will be surrounded by people I love—my eldest daughter, Amber, son-in-law and two grandchildren—on Saturday. But “the people I love” also includes the rest of my family. And in that moment tears fell at the missing of Miranda and her brother, Caleb, both of whom I haven’t seen in more than four months. Caleb lives in Boston.

This photo of me with my mom was taken two years before her death. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2020 by Randy Helbling)

To be a mom is to understand that separation is inevitable. Our kids grow up, move away, sometimes farther than we’d like. Things keep us apart. Death also separates. Daughters and sons have lost mothers. Mothers have lost children. But in the end, love remains. As does gratitude. I am grateful for my mom. Grateful for my three children. I am grateful to be a mother.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there! You are loved. And appreciated.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

-30- April 30, 2024

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(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

THE LOSS IS IMMENSE, TRAGIC—the deaths of eight prominent community members in southern Minnesota last week. I knew none of them personally. Yet I did. We all did.

If you have ever read a community newspaper, then you knew the deceased. For it is eight Minnesota newspapers, not individuals, that died. Ceased publication, only weeks after an announcement of their forthcoming funerals.

Death notices and church services, printed in The Gaylord Hub.

I am mourning the deaths of the Hutchinson Leader, Litchfield Independent Review, Chaska Herald, Chanhassen Villager, Jordan Independent, Shakopee Valley News, Prior Lake American and Savage Pacer, plus Crow River Press Printing Plant. All are owned by Denver-based MediaNews Group, part of hedge fund Alden Global Capital.

They ranged in age from 30 (Savage Pacer) to 162 (the Chaska and Shakopee papers). Five of the eight began publication between 1862-1880. That’s quite a legacy.

I am undeniably biased in reporting this news. I hold a journalism degree, have worked for community newspapers and write for publications owned by Adams Publishing Group. I believe in community journalism with the fierceness of recognizing its importance, its value, to the people who live and work in the places these papers cover. No one covers local like local.

My local paper, owned by Adams Publishing Group, still prints a special graduation section each spring.

And now that print coverage is lost in all these southern Minnesota towns, cities and rural areas: The watchdog coverage of school board, city council, county board, planning and zoning, and other government bodies. The stories about crime and tragedies. The stories about community events and celebrations. The interesting features that focus on people. Local sports and arts and entertainment stories. Community calendars, school honor rolls and lunch menus. Graduation. Obituaries and much more.

In my first journalism class at Minnesota State University, Mankato, I learned how to craft an obituary. It was our initial writing assignment, I think to impress upon all of us post-Watergate would-be reporters the importance of getting every detail correct in a story. That lesson stuck with me. Get it right.

I took that knowledge with me to The Gaylord Hub, a small town community newspaper printed at Crow River Press in Hutchinson. Each week a co-worker and I aimed north in a vintage Dodge van to deliver the newspaper lay-out sheets to the printing plant. The process of creating a newspaper in 1978 was decidedly different than today. Consider that I typed all my stories on a manual typewriter. A typesetter then typed my work into a typesetting machine. Stories were printed out in columns, then laid out and pasted onto lay-out sheets. No designing by computer. Then it was off to Crow River Press, where a co-worker and I watched the Hub roll off the press, bagged the freshly-inked papers and delivered them to the Gaylord Post Office, where subscribers eagerly waited to get their papers.

A front page story in the April 11 issue of The Gaylord Hub.

Yes, I’m feeling a tad nostalgic and sad thinking of the closure of Crow River Press. The recent shut-down left the publisher of The Gaylord Hub, and other small town newspaper owners, scrambling for a place to print their papers. Many printing plants, like community papers, have met their demise in Minnesota as large media groups acquired papers and plants.

This thank you published in the April 21 final edition of The Galaxy, a supplement to eight community newspapers printed by Crow River Press.

Times change. I understand that. The economy, technology, COVID, acquisitions and much more have factored into the deaths of community newspapers. Readers find their “news” elsewhere. Businesses spend their advertising dollars elsewhere. Far-removed executives make questionable business decisions. The list of reasons and excuses and explanations is extensive.

Community members, too, hold some responsibility in the deaths of newspapers. I can’t speak to the specific papers that closed last week in Minnesota, but I can tell you what I hear locally. And that is criticism, some deserved, much not. People have always criticized the media, failing to remember that reporters are reporting, not creating, the news. But the comments have become more intense, more rabid, more frequent. Freedom of the press feels threatened in our democracy.

The community journalists I know are honest, hardworking, (probably) underpaid and devoted to the craft. Just as I was when I worked as a full-time newspaper reporter.

This full page notice/thank you, an obituary of sorts, published in the April 21 final edition of The Galaxy.

Community newspapers are no longer valued like they once were, resulting in fewer subscribers. When I hear people say they no longer subscribe to the local paper, I suggest they reconsider. Community newspapers are vital to our cities, towns and rural areas. And sometimes we don’t understand that, until it’s too late, until we’re reading their obituaries.

-30-

NOTE: Print journalists have used -30- to signify the end of a story submitted for editing. I use # to indicate the ends of my stories, except today, when the old school -30- seems more appropriate.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The art of rural Minnesota churches March 28, 2024

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Christdala Swedish Lutheran Church, rural Millersburg. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)

IN MY BACKROADS travels around Minnesota, I’ve often stopped at churches, drawn by their history, architecture and art. Churches are, to me, more than houses of worship. They are also galleries, museums, centers of praise and grief and joy.

Inside Vang Lutheran Church, rural Dennison, a depiction of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2014)

There’s almost something holy about stepping inside a church, into the quiet of a space graced by colorful stained glass windows, religious sculptures, pews worn by the hands of many.

Trinity Lutheran Church, Wanamingo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2016)

I feel a sense of reverence in the light, in the stillness, in the peace that fills an empty sanctuary. I feel centered. Calm. Enveloped by the sheer beauty surrounding me.

Inside St. Michael’s Catholic Church in Buckman in Morrison County, stained glass art shows Jesus carrying His cross. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2021)

That beauty often emanates from the art. Stained glass windows, designed and built by skilled artisans, add a dimension of sacredness that appears heavenly when sunlight streams through glass.

Jesus’ crucifixion depicted in a stained glass window inside Holden Lutheran Church, rural Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2016)

Themed to history, those windows visually tell stories written within the bible. Many focus on Holy Week: The Last Supper. Jesus praying in the garden of Gethsemane. The crucifixion of Jesus. And then His glorious resurrection on Easter morning.

This statue of Mary grieving the loss of her son shows deep emotion. It’s inside St. Mary’s Catholic Church, New Trier. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2017)

Sculptures, too, depict the same in life-size statues.

Hands convey so much love in intimate details in this sculpture of Mary holding Jesus’ hand. Photographed at St. Mary’s Catholic Church, New Trier. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2017)

Sacred and religious art is powerful. It evokes emotions. Inspires. Uplifts. Gives reason to pause and reflect.

This shows a snippet of the center stained glass window in a trio above the altar at Trinity Lutheran Church, Wanamingo. It depicts Christ’s resurrection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2016)

This Holy Week, as my thoughts turn more reflective and inward, I feel deep gratitude for the long ago faithful who created the stained glass windows, the sculptures and other art adorning churches. These works of art are worthy of our attention, our appreciation, no matter religious affiliation or not.

A full view of the altar painting by A. Pederson inside Moland Lutheran Church, rural Kenyon. It’s based on Matthew 11: 28 – 30. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened…” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2013)

I can only imagine how many eyes have focused on the art within sanctuary walls. During baptisms. During weddings. During funerals. And during worship services. Joy. Comfort. Peace. Blessings. They’re there, all there, within the art within these sacred spaces.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Lion or lamb March 25, 2024

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Photos by wildlife photographer Dave Angell, exhibited previously at the Paradise Center for the Arts, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2023)

MARCH ROARED INTO MINNESOTA like a lion this past weekend. Louder in some parts of our state, like in Minneapolis northward. And quieter in other parts, like here in Faribault.

Snow falls under grey skies Sunday afternoon in my backyard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

We got only a few inches of snow in my community. I think. It’s difficult to measure in a spring storm that mixes heavy snow, light snow, wet snow, sleet and rain. Yes, it’s been quite a mix of precip. But I can assuredly tell you that the once barren landscape is layered in fresh snow under grey, drippy skies.

Snow falls, layering patio lights, fence and evergreens Sunday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

The Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport recorded 8.2 inches of snow, the biggest snowfall of the season. They can have it, although I’m sure Minnesotans attempting to fly out for warm spring break destinations did not appreciate all the flight delays and cancellations on Sunday.

Snow creates an interesting black-and-white grid on my patio bricks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

Other than attending church services early Sunday morning and stepping onto the back stoop to take a few photos, I stayed inside all day. It was an ideal “sprinter” day (as my friend Gretchen aptly terms this season) to settle in with a good book. I’m reading The Violin Conspiracy, a novel by Brendan Slocumb centering on a gifted Black violinist. It’s a riveting, emotional read. Sometimes I wanted to roar like a lion at the unfairness, the prejudice, the challenges that thread through this book. I’m half-way through the novel.

A few more lions, but mostly lambs, have been added to this March calendar at Buckham Memorial Library since I photographed it on March 16. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

Lion. Lamb. That applies to life, to books, to the month of March.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2016 from Shepherd’s Way Farm, rural Nerstrand)

If I have a choice, I’ll choose a gentle lamb. I dislike conflict. I dislike sprinter storms that create travel woes, that require snow removal. But often we have no choice. Weather and life roar in like a lion and we face the challenges. Sometimes with fear. Sometimes with bravery. However we react, we are the stronger for having faced the lion. More empathetic. More compassionate. Less afraid. And that is the lesson of March.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

“In every walk with nature…” March 20, 2024

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Leaping across a path near the parking lot at River Bend Nature Center in 2013. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2013)

THEY LEAPT LIKE BALLERINAS across the dirt trail, white tutu tails flashing.

They were a herd of 11 deer sighted recently at Faribault’s River Bend Nature Center. I stood on Raccoon Trail aside Randy simply watching. One after the other they leapt with such grace, such practiced precision.

I photographed these deer at River Bend in April 2022, not far from where we sighted 16 deer on March 13. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

Only moments earlier, as we hiked down Arbor Trail on the nature center’s northeast side, Randy touched my arm, motioning me to stop. There, ahead of us, across the intersecting dirt path, several deer lingered in lowland grasses. I didn’t initially see them, my distance vision not all that acute. But eventually I spotted the camouflaged deer.

Rustic signs mark trails at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2017)

And then we saw more in the distance, nearer the Prairie Loop. There, barely visible behind trees.

A sense of wonderment, of awe, of just wanting to take in the scene before me overtook my spirit. Such moments in nature deserve full attention. We watched while two men walked right past us, unaware of the nearby deer so engaged were they in conversation.

We waited, whisper-quiet. Watching. Then the deer moved, ambling along the edge of tall dried grasses, staying parallel to the trail. Soon more deer emerged from a stand of trees and trailed the first traveling troupe. It was a sight, the endless stream of deer moving east.

Our attention turned that direction, toward the deer, one by one, long-leaping over Raccoon Trail, into the woods, up the hill, toward the prairie. We started counting. One, two, three…all the way to eleven. Only when the last deer exited the stage did we dare move, so mesmerized were we by the performance.

Inspirational quotes like this are spread throughout River Bend. I especially love this one. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2019)

Randy and I resumed our hike, following Raccoon Trail until the biting wind of the March evening prompted us to turn back. By that time we were talking again or walking in comfortable silence. I wished aloud that I had my 35 mm camera with me. I’ve never been this near so many deer at River Bend. Eleven. But perhaps it was better I was without my camera so I could focus on the moment rather than on focusing and framing images.

Camouflaged deer among the prairie grasses of River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2022)

Then, back at the intersection of Raccoon and Arbor Trails, Randy alerted me to more deer. Five this time. Standing statute still, without stage fright. Watching us. Us watching them in a stare-down. I wondered which of us would move first. Wildlife or human.

This sign posted in a kiosk along Raccoon Trail reminds visitors that deer and other wildlife, are just that, wildlife. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

I ooohed over the cute babies, last year’s fawns. Even if deer are dreadful when darting onto roadways and unwanted when dining on garden flowers and vegetables, I appreciate them in their natural habitat. This is their home, their stage, this land of tall grasses and woods. Here they walk with elegance. Here they leap with the grace of seasoned ballet dancers. Here they give me pause to stop, to listen to the trill of red-winged blackbirds as we watch each other—deer and human—in the fading light of a March evening at River Bend.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Clutch of crocuses March 14, 2024

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Crocuses blooming on March 12. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

DAYS AFTER I BRUSHED aside leaf mulch, my crocuses are in full bloom under the bold sunlight of March here in southern Minnesota.

Veins run through the cupped purple petals popping with golden centers. They are beautiful to behold. Vibrant in a landscape of brown.

Due to the unseasonably mild Minnesota winter, these crocuses are blooming weeks earlier than usual. Had I not uncovered the perennials several days ago to find a lone blossom leaning, I would have missed this explosion of color in my front yard flowerbed.

I admire crocuses, daffodils and tulips, the first brave flowers of spring. That they even survive in this harsh climate seems a miracle in itself. Crocuses store food in corms, their underground stem system.

And so I want to take a moment to celebrate this clutch of crocuses, to recognize the importance of noticing that which is right before our eyes. All too often we hurry through our days without pausing to appreciate the little things. The flush of blossoms. The bright flash of a cardinal. The scurrying of a squirrel. Today may you stop, look and see, really see, the beauty within this day.

TELL ME: What little thing are you seeing today that bring you joy?

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Uncovering spring in this non-winter in Minnesota March 12, 2024

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Under a layer of leaves, I found this blooming crocus. Already, in early March. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

IN TRULY UN-MINNESOTAN fashion, I have penned very little this winter about the weather. That is atypical of a life-long resident. We are, if anything, obsessed about weather in Minnesota. We take pride in our cold weather, our snow, in managing to persevere in an often harsh climate. Weather affects our lives on a daily basis.

But this winter season, our image as the Bold Cold North has significantly changed. These past four months have been primarily snow-less and unseasonably warm. Sure, we’ve had a bit of snow and some cold snaps with sub-zero temperatures. Yet nothing like we’ve come to expect.

As I write, I look out my office window to a scene devoid of snow. The temperature is 46 degrees. At 9:51 a.m. on an early March morning. Laundry is drying on the clothesline. And the sun blazes bright upon the monotone landscape.

Daffodils, too, are emerging early. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

If I look closely, I see signs of spring come too soon. I need only examine my perennial flowerbeds to find spring flowers emerging from the soil. Under a layer of dried leaf mulch, I uncover a single crocus tipped on its side. I push more leaves aside revealing tender shoots of crocuses and daffodils. They need sunlight to thrive.

Tulips on the south-facing side of my house started popping weeks ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)

Tulips and irises are up, too. Too soon. Not yet blooming. I noticed tulip bulbs popping greenery already in February.

All of this is an anomaly. We should be experiencing snowstorms and school closures, hearing the scrape of snowplows, the roar of snowblowers. Kids should be skating and sledding. As much as I appreciate the lack of icy roads and sidewalks, no snow to clear and no worry about winter weather, it just doesn’t feel right.

I’ve realized that I really do like the diversity of distinct seasons in Minnesota. There’s something to be said about anticipating spring after a long hard winter, like we experienced last year with record snowfall…

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hugging humanity with valentine love February 14, 2024

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The traditional valentine bouquet, red roses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

AHEAD OF US ON THE SIDEWALK, two young men, both on rollerblades, paused. As Randy and I drew nearer, I noticed one holding a bundle of wrapped flowers. I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, for me! Thank you!” I exclaimed, stretching my arms as if to take the bouquet. They laughed.

It was one of those chance encounters that proved delightfully fitting on the Sunday before Valentine’s Day. Randy and I were out for an afternoon walk on the campus of the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf when we met the teens. The state campus is often used as a pathway by students from Shattuck-St. Mary’s, a private college prep school in Faribault. MSAD sits between Shattuck’s upper and lower campuses.

Given their rollerblades, I figured the two were hockey players at Shattuck. They confirmed that. And they confirmed that the flowers were for a girlfriend. “He’s in love,” the Minnesotan said of his Canadian roommate. I smiled, happy to witness this gentle ribbing, this evidence of young love. Oh, to be sixteen again and feeling madly in love.

Another valentine tradition, assorted chocolates in a heart-shaped box. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Love. While we romanticize love on Valentine’s Day with flowers and chocolate and cards and dinner out, it is so much more than romanticism. Ask anyone who’s older and who has been in a relationship for awhile. Like me. Love is listening and caring and kindness and simply being there in the quiet of each other’s company. It’s supporting one another through challenging days and celebrating together in the good times. Or simply enjoying the ordinary days, which comprise the bulk of life.

And love in February is two 16-year-old hockey players skating along the sidewalk, one cradling wrapped flowers for a girl.

I received this handcrafted valentine in the mail from my friend Beth Ann. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
I adore this valentine crafted by Jack, Amelia and Ben and mailed to me from northwestern Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
Valentine chalk heart in the window of Keeper’s Antiques in downtown Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

Valentine love, for me, is also handmade valentines in the mail, vintage valentines from my mom’s collection and window displays themed to February 14. It is childhood memories of shoeboxes crafted into valentine receptacles, boxes of candy conversation hearts and Juicy Fruit gum taped to red hearts. It is my 5-year-old grandson’s homemade paper valentine heart stuck to the front of my fridge.

My son crafted this cloth valentine 25 years ago in kindergarten. I hang it on my door every Valentine’s Day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Valentine’s Day brings loving thoughts of family (including my husband of nearly 42 years) and friends. February 14 is truly a day that stretches beyond romantic love. I sincerely hope individuals who are not in romantic relationships feel included. Love is universal. Love hugs all of humanity.

One of my favorite valentines, because of its theme, among my mom’s vintage valentines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)

I love the vibe of Valentine’s Day, a day when our thoughts focus on a world full of love in a world too often filled with hatred. On this singular day, we can intentionally choose to exude positivity. We can choose to forgive and focus on that which connects, rather than divides, us. We can choose to listen and encourage and use only generously kind words. We can choose to skate along the sidewalk like 16-year-olds intent on delivering bouquets of happiness. And we can choose, too, to stop, stretch our arms toward those flowers and engage in conversation with individuals we meet in the everyday moments of life. We will all be the richer for having connected, for showing love to one another on Valentine’s Day and well beyond February 14.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Let’s all strive, as Mr. Rogers advised, to listen in 2024 January 2, 2024

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Inspirational signage photographed in a residential front yard, Nerstrand, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)

WITH THE BEGINNING of a new year, thoughts turn to what may unfold in 2024. We just don’t know. So much is beyond our control, even if we think it isn’t.

Life brings joy. Life brings challenges. Life brings the unexpected. That’s a given. Life can be downright difficult at times. And that’s where we each have the power to make a difference in the lives of family, friends and even strangers. That starts with listening, not to our own voices, but rather to the voices of others.

How many times has someone asked how you’re doing and you answer honestly (or maybe not so honestly) only to then hear the questioner share his/her story? Suddenly the focus is on the other person and not your situation. Happens all the time. How does that make you feel? In those conversations, I’ve felt dismissed, unheard, like I don’t matter. And I am not a selfish, self-centered person.

The point here is, if you ask someone how they are, opt to listen. Keep the focus on them, not you. People appreciate someone who listens, who shows genuine care and compassion.

We Minnesotans have a tendency to use the word “fine” way too much when responding to “How are you?” I, for one, really want to know when I ask that question. I try not to use the phrase as a meaningless greeting. Oftentimes I’ll customize the question if I know, for example, that someone is facing challenges. That shows I truly care.

I suppose part of my perspective comes from my journalism background. To be a good news reporter requires well thought out questions and strong listening skills. As a reporter, you are an observer, a gatherer of information, not an active participant in the story. Those skills can translate to everyday life, too.

A few months ago I saw a sign in a front yard in small town Nerstrand listing quotes by the late Fred Rogers. Fifth on that list was this: LISTENING IS WHERE LOVE BEGINS. I love love love that quote stressing the importance of listening.

I loved listening to Rogers’ quiet, gentle, soothing voice on his TV show, “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” He exuded calm, peace, serenity. His messages of kindness, love, listening, embracing the beauty in each day and more are definitively positive. We should each strive to live them. Smile. Hold a door. Thank someone. Encourage. And listen, really listen.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Experiencing Veterans Day in Faribault November 12, 2023

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The Honor Guard and Color Guard in place for the Veterans Day ceremony in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

IT WAS, FOR MANY, an emotional day. A day of remembering, grieving, honoring, respecting. Veterans Day held all of those for me and many others who gathered in my community to honor those who have served our country in the military. That includes my father, a U.S. Army combat soldier in the Korean War.

A crowd gathers Saturday morning for a short Veterans Day program outside the Rice County courthouse. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

This emotion-filled day began for me on the eleventh hour on the eleventh day in the eleventh month at the Rice County Veterans Memorial fronting the courthouse along busy Fourth Street in Faribault. In history, all those elevens mark the signing of the armistice between the Allies of World War I and Germany. The cease fire occurred at 11 a.m on November 11, 1918.

A member of the Honor Guard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

The only firing on this November 11 in Faribault was that of the Honor Guard shooting blanks from rifles.

A sizeable crowd gathers at the Rice County Veterans’ Memorial. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

Upon my arrival at the courthouse lawn, I noticed first veterans, the American and other flags, the crowd and the red. Red coats. Red roses. Red symbolizes patriotism, sacrifice and bloodshed. And red in a rose symbolizes love.

Among the 23 pairs of boots honoring a veteran who committed suicide. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

Those red roses were lovingly placed aside blue carnations in 23 boots representing the 23 American veterans who daily commit suicide. Local organizers of Operation: 23 to Zero, an organization that raises awareness about vet-related issues, including suicide and PTSD, set up the display and stood watch for 23 hours in honor of those who took their lives. Cole, Damian, Joel, Brandon, Nicole…

Operation: 23 to Zero display on the memorial plaza. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

Those boots circled the central monument focus of eagle and dove. Individual slabs of stone for each military branch edge that circle with fitting inscriptions like THIS WE DEFEND. A sign propped against one of the stones offered encouragement, a strong message of hope, and it touched me deeply: “If you are looking for a sign NOT to kill yourself today—This is it. You are loved. You do belong. You are worthy.”

Steve Bonde plays taps, hauntingly mournful. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

Although I knew none of the service men and women who died by suicide, I felt sadness and grief filling my thoughts. I could sense the collective grief, the somberness. This small circle of 23 boots on the veterans plaza seemed a sacred space.

Faribault firefighters were among those in attendance. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

In the deafening noise of traffic from the nearby busy street and the mostly too low amplification system, I struggled to hear any of the speakers. So I focused instead on observing. I was pleased to see a cross-section of ages from children in parents’ arms to teens to young adults to middle age to aged. The presence of young people, especially, pleases me, for they, too, need to understand the meaning and importance of Veterans Day.

Among the hundreds of pavers surrounding the memorial. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

In the all of the gathering at the veterans memorial in Faribault, I felt not only deep emotions, but also pride in country and a unity that is not often seen these days. On this single day, this November 11, we came together to honor our veterans, despite our personal political viewpoints.

Memorable bumper sticker. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)

A bumper sticker I noticed on a Vietnam veteran’s vehicle summarizes well the intent, the goal of those who have served abroad in war. “We went over there so you could be here.” It’s a seemingly simple phrase, yet profound in depth.

FYI: Please check back for more photos of the Operation: 23 to Zero display and a post about more Veterans Day events I attended in Faribault. It was a full day.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling