Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Gathering with the in-laws at the annual family reunion August 13, 2013

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Grandma Cheryl and Grandpa Roger help 6-month-old Aston make a luminary.

Grandma Cheryl and Grandpa Roger help 5-month-old grandson Aston with artwork on a luminary.

I AM BLESSED beyond measure to be a part of extended families who still care enough about the connections of blood lines and histories to reunite each summer.

This past weekend my husband, 19-year-old son and I headed north and west to the annual Helbling family reunion, this year in Morris. Our daughters, one of whom is preoccupied with wedding plans and packing to move while the other lives 10 hours from western Minnesota, could not attend. But I am used to that, having my own three together only once or twice a year.

Cousins and a cousin-in-law going strong in the gunny sack race until...

Cousins and a cousin-in-law going strong in the gunny sack race until…

...the brothers wipe out.

…the brothers wipe out.

Seeing my in-laws and their families, including lots of little ones, always proves a fun time from conversation to laughter and, this year, a few old-fashioned games tossed into the mix. No I did not participate. I am smarter than that.

The weather in Morris proved perfect with sunshine and intermittent clouds and temps more befitting of September than August. But I am not complaining. I love this kind of weather.

It was the perfect weekend, in so many ways.

My great nephew Cameron eyes the bocce balls.

My great nephew Cameron reaches for a Bocce ball rather than the smaller (and safer) child-sized balls.

Husband and wife team, right; my son and his godmother, middle; and niece and nephew-in-law line up for a three-legged race.

Husband (my nephew) and wife team, right; my son and his godmother (my sister-in-law), middle; and my niece and nephew-in-law line up for a three-legged race.

The final, ahem, leg of the race. The son and godmother were lagging way behind.

The final, ahem, leg of the race. The son and godmother were lagging way behind.

My nephew Nate tends to his nephew, Tristan, following a hand injury during a gunny sack race.

My nephew Nate tends to his nephew, Tristan, following a hand injury during a gunny sack race.

We all designed luminaries, including this one by my nephew-in-law Jason with his favorite quote, one that sits on his work desk.

We all designed luminaries, including this one by my nephew-in-law Jason with his favorite quote, one that sits on his work desk.

Jason and Jocelyn's oldest daughter, my great niece Meghan, works on her luminary.

Jason and Jocelyn’s oldest daughter, my great niece Meghan, works on her luminary.

Laughter and conversation around the campfire.

Laughter and conversation around the campfire.

The family luminaries light the path from the campfire and up the driveway to my sister-in-law and brother-in-law's home in Morris.

The family luminaries light the path from the campfire up the driveway to my sister-in-law and brother-in-law’s home in Morris.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Kids doing good in Owatonna August 8, 2013

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ALL TOO OFTEN we are quick to see the negative, to despair about the world today, to worry about what the future holds for our young people.

But then along comes something uplifting like a project undertaken by students from Lincoln and Washington elementary schools in Owatonna and my confidence and hopefulness are restored.

While accompanying my husband on a recent stop at St. Clair’s for Men in Owatonna to pick up his suit for our eldest daughter’s wedding, I noticed a basket filled with colorful art.

Houses 1

Of course, I inquired about the handcrafted pins, earrings and magnets and was pointed to a sign explaining the project.

Owatonna students, upon learning about the damage caused by Hurricane Sandy and the lives lost in that fierce storm last fall along the East Coast, decided to help. Thus the “Houses for the Homeless” fundraiser, initiated several months ago.

Houses 2

With mat board, markers and hand-painted papers, the young artists designed mini houses, a visual of the rebuilding process.

Already, I’ve been told (although not confirmed with project organizers), the project has raised $3,000 for Hurricane Sandy relief from those $5 per artwork piece sales.

If you’re feeling cynical today, or tomorrow, or the next day, about young people, then consider this fundraiser and these elementary school kids from Owatonna.

Houses 3

Students today, unlike those of my childhood, are growing up in a much different and bigger world. I don’t recall ever undertaking a single compassionate project during my school days. Activities such as “Houses for the Homeless” teach kids to think beyond themselves and their wants and needs. And that is a very good thing.

FYI: “Houses for the Homeless” pins, earrings and magnets are available for purchase in Owatonna at St. Clair’s for Men, Kristi’s Clothing, Cedar Floral Design Studio and Central Park Coffee Co.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

No siren equals misguided storm logic in Appleton, Wisconsin August 7, 2013

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SHE SHOULD KNOW BETTER. After all, I raised her to respect storms, to head to the basement when the siren sounds.

But early this morning, warning sirens didn’t alert residents of Appleton to the severe storm sweeping through this northeastern Wisconsin city. That’s according to my second daughter, who awakened between midnight and 1 a.m. to strong winds whipping and rattling the vertical blinds in her apartment between Northland Avenue and a residential street on Appleton’s north side, the area hardest hit in this community.

Rather than proceed to the basement, she opened her second floor sliding patio door, retrieved her pepper and other plants from the balcony and crawled back into bed. Her reason: No sirens.

Crazy girl. I taught her to respect severe storms like the one early this morning that produced reported “hurricane force” winds of up to 96 mph in Appleton and the surrounding region.

According to numerous online news sources, strong winds snapped more than 100 power lines and damaged the electrical network and transmission system leaving some 62,000-plus customers initially without power. My daughter is among those. It could take up to three days before power is fully restored to the area, according to information on the City of Appleton website.

Just blocks east of my daughter’s apartment, a section of main arterial Northland Avenue is closed due to downed power lines. Trees are down everywhere, she says, and Hortonville to the northwest of Appleton was especially hard hit. She drove by the town this morning en route to New London to interpret at a medical appointment.

Appleton Medical Center, where my daughter often interprets for Spanish-speaking patients, is reportedly operating on back-up power and is bringing in a second generator from Chicago. Surgeries have been canceled.

Residents in the region are dealing with felled trees and damage to buildings.

The Outagamie County (Appleton rests in part of this county) Emergency Operations Center has been activated, an emergency declaration issued and Red Cross shelters opened in New London and Wrightstown, according to the Outagamie County Facebook page.

The need for “great caution” while traveling in north Appleton, Grand Chute, Kimberly, Little Chute, Hortonville and Freedom is recommended because of downed trees and debris on roadways.

Now, after reading all of that, should my daughter have retreated to the basement of her apartment building during this morning’s storm?

This mom thinks so.

Should the sirens in Appleton have been activated?

This mom thinks so.

WEDNESDAY EVENING UPDATE: According to news reports, the National Weather Service has confirmed an EF-1 tornado in Appleton and an EF-2 tornado in the New London area. See this link:

http://www.fox11online.com/dpp/weather/tornados-leave-path-of-destruction

An additional Red Cross shelter has been opened in Appleton.

As of early this evening, my daughter still did not have power and was preparing to throw food and purchase additional candles and a bigger flashlight. She also is without hot water. She lives near the Northland Mall, which sustained roof damage.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Shopping for the father-of-the-bride at a “Main Street” men’s clothing store in Owatonna

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Chairs invite customers and passersby to sit a spell outside St. Clair's for Men and Owatonna Shoe.

Chairs invite customers and passersby to sit a spell outside St. Clair’s for Men and Owatonna Shoe.

THERE’S SOMETHING TO BE SAID for a long-standing men’s fine clothing store like St. Clair’s for Men in Owatonna.

My husband, who was shopping for a suit for our eldest daughter’s wedding, ended up at St. Clair’s after quick stops at two large retail chain stores. In at least one of those stores, we rummaged through racks of suit coats and dress pants without a clerk in sight to assist.

Randy received attentive personal service from the minute he walked into St. Clair's for Men.

Randy received attentive personal service at St. Clair’s for Men.

But the minute we walked in the door at St. Clair’s, 117 N. Cedar Avenue in downtown Owatonna, Randy received top notch personal service. I didn’t get the employee’s name, but he knew sizes just by looking at my husband, although he did pull out the tape measure for arm length. He’s worked at St. Clair’s for 27 years.

According to the business’ website, “With over 140 years of combined menswear experience, we are sure we’ll spoil you for shopping anywhere else.” They got that right.

A snippet of the fine clothing at St. Clair's.

A snippet of the fine clothing at St. Clair’s.

Since 1890—that’s 123 years—this business, owned by Greg Krueger since 1982, has served men in southern Minnesota.

Meandering through the store, I found this iron set up in the rear. Another example of customer service.

Meandering through the store, I found this iron set up in the rear. Another example of customer service.

Shopping at St. Clair’s, for us, took the stress out of purchasing a suit for the most important day of a father’s life. Randy got a perfect fit, after free alterations at the in-house tailor’s shop.

Randy even brought home a leaflet on how to tie ties.

Randy even brought home a leaflet on how to tie ties.

A small sampling of the ties sold at St. Clair's.

A small sampling of the ties sold at St. Clair’s.

The sales prices of the suit coat, pants, white shirt and tie made buying here no more costly than purchasing from a mega retailer.

A model business motto imprinted upon a St. Clair's bag.

A model business motto, “your personal men’s store,” imprinted upon a St. Clair’s bag.

If this sounds like an enthusiastic endorsement of St. Clair’s for Men, it is.

St. Clair's for men sits next to Owatonna Shoe, which has been "serving the area for over 65 years, with service, quality and fit!"

St. Clair’s for men sits next to Owatonna Shoe, a family-owned business which has been “serving the area for over 65 years, with service, quality and fit!” Catch that? Service, just like that offered at St. Clair’s.

I’m all for great customer service, a business art that seems mostly lost but for these small town independently-owned Main Street shops.

Full service independent men’s clothing stores are rare these days. I remember when two such shops, Jim & Joe’s and Ochs Department Store, existed in downtown Faribault. No more.

So I am especially thankful for places like St. Clair’s for Men which, with knowledge, individual attention and outstanding customer service, transformed my hardworking blue collar husband in to one mighty handsome father-of-the-bride.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Showering the bride-to-be (my daughter) with gifts & love August 6, 2013

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MY HUSBAND’S ELDEST SISTER suggested early on that I put away my camera.

But how could I, with no other camera in sight, set aside my Canon and simply allow the events of the afternoon to imprint upon my memory only?

Guests filled the living room and spilled into the dining room for my daughter's Saturday afternoon bridal shower.

Guests fill the living room and spill into the dining room for my daughter’s Saturday afternoon bridal shower.

I needed to visually capture these moments in which my eldest daughter, Amber, was showered with gifts and love at her bridal shower.

The bride-to-be opens gits.

When I look back now on these images, I remember the laughter, the emotions, the excitement, the joy, the delight that comes in knowing your daughter has grown in to this incredible young woman who is head-over-heels in love…

Shower, gift

White lace and white bows.

My floral designer sister Lanae created these bouquets, which include flowers that will be among the wedding flowers.

My floral designer sister Lanae created these bouquets, which include blooms that will be among the wedding flowers.

Flowers and chocolate and “fu fu.”

The most emotional moment of the shower came when Amber opened linens hand embroidered by her future husband's maternal grandmother, who died in 1992. She embroidered the linens to be gifted to her grandson's future bride.

The most emotional moment of the afternoon came when Amber opened linens hand embroidered by her future husband’s maternal grandmother, Beatrice (who died decades ago). The linens were to be gifted someday to Beatrice’s grandson’s bride-to-be. And this was the day when my daughter’s future mother-in-law delivered the precious packages. The embroidered hues of the flowers are the wedding couple’s colors, making this gift even more remarkable as Grandma Beatrice could not have known this.

Linens, a legacy of love and tears.

The gift of a clothes hamper prompted me to share that 30-plus years ago, the aunts on my father's side always gifted brides-to-be with a hamper and a bathroom scale.

The gift of a clothes hamper prompted me to share that 30-plus years ago, the aunts on my father’s side always gifted brides-to-be with a hamper and a bathroom scale. After much laughter, the group consensus was that a scale would not be a welcome gift. Times have changed. I still have my brown hamper, which looks quite similar to my daughter’s, but not the scale. That broke years ago.

Pots and pans and knives. A hamper for their clothes. The tools to create their new home.

Shower, recipe

Her husband-to-be’s favorite recipes handwritten by his mother, Lynn, who flew in from California for the bridal shower.

Personal messages written from the heart inside cards.

Hugs and well wishes.

Wishes shared...and read.

And lovely words to read.

She was gifted with a personalized bag bearing her new last name of Schmidt.

She was gifted with towels and a personalized bag bearing her new last name of Schmidt.

Soon Amber Helbling will become Amber Schmidt.

The bride-to-be with her soon-to-be husband.

Amber and Marc

My daughter. My sweet girl. All grown up. And, oh, so in love with Marc.

BONUS PHOTOS:

The wonderful family and friends who gathered at my sister-in-law Joanne's house for the bridal shower.

The wonderful family and friends who gathered at my sister-in-law Joanne’s house for the bridal shower.

As always, my floral designer sister created a beautiful gift package.

As always, my floral designer sister created a beautiful gift package.

The delicious food, especially the dessert on the right. That's my 81-year-old mom to the right. She traveled several hours to attend her granddaughter's shower.

The delicious food, especially the dessert on the right made by my husband’s eldest sister. That’s my 81-year-old mom to the right. She traveled several hours from southwestern Minnesota to attend her granddaughter’s shower.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Friendships forged via blogging August 3, 2013

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YOU KNOW SOMETIMES how, when you meet someone, you instantly connect and feel as if you’ve been friends forever.

Well, that’s exactly how I feel about my blogger friends Beth Ann, who writes at It’s Just Life, and Gretchen, who writes at A Fine Day for an Epiphany. They are now real life friends, as in I’ve met them.

Beth Ann has been to Faribault twice, first last December with her husband, Chris, to hear me present on and read my poetry during a program at Buckham Memorial Library. Chris always worries about his wife and her “imaginary” blogger friends and whether one of us will stuff her in the trunk of a car. “Not to worry,” I told Beth Ann when she visited me at my home several weeks ago. “I’ll stash you in my basement freezer.”

Now Chris terms me “that Audrey character.”

I don’t know that Gretchen’s husband, Colin, has assigned any such moniker to me. He seems not too concerned about my character.

Driving the state line road to Gretchen and Colin's rural southwest Minnesota home.

Driving the state line road to Gretchen and Colin’s rural southwest Minnesota home.

Last week my husband and I, while en route to Luverne in the extreme southwestern corner of Minnesota, detoured off Interstate 90 into Worthington, wound our way through construction zones and aimed south to the Minnesota/Iowa border where Gretchen and her family live on the state line. Literally. The gravel road past their rural acreage is half in Minnesota, half in Iowa. How cool is that?

I could have chosen to show you a "perfect" family photo in which everyone in Gretchen's family is standing nice and looking at my camera. But I love this one of Ian eyeballing the antics of his little sister, Lucy. Last summer, when visiting me, Colin also held Lucy upside down for a photo and Lucy wanted to do the same again this time.

I could have chosen a “perfect” family photo in which everyone in Gretchen’s family is standing nice and looking at my camera. But I love this one of Ian eyeballing the antics of his little sister, Lucy. Last summer, when visiting us, Colin also held his youngest daughter upside down for a photo and Lucy wanted to do the same pose this time. Given her sweetness, we obliged.

Randy and I were excited to visit our friends as last summer Gretchen, Colin and their three kids accepted a dinner invitation to our home when they were in Faribault for a theatrical performance. We instantly bonded.

Gretchen and me, now real-life friends. Photo by Randy Helbling.

Gretchen and me, now real-life friends. Photo by Randy Helbling.

Who says “Imaginary” blogging friends can’t become “real friends?” Not I, says this blogger.

Sweet little Lucy, who narrated on the nature walk and later read a book to me. She just finished kindergarten.

Sweet little Lucy, who narrated on the nature walk and later read a book to me. She just finished kindergarten. That’s her blanket, appropriately named “Blue.”

Upon our arrival, I refused the handshakes of Colin and Ian, embracing them instead. The girls—Gretchen and daughters Katie and Lucy—were quick with the hugs.

A creek winds through the property.

A creek winds through the acreage. That’s the neighbor’s land in the background.

Then Randy and I were off on a nature walk with the kids through the 10-acre wooded and hilly creek-side property while Gretchen and Colin prepared a delicious meal of grilled pork, lettuce and fruit salads, assorted breads and the best peach dessert ever. (Click here for the recipe.)

Ian, 14, with the family's cat,

Ian, 14, with family cat, Zephyr.

As much as I savored the food, I especially savored the time with our friends, who are warm and welcoming and kind and good and great conversationalists. Even the kids. I mean that in the best sort of way as Ian, Katie and Lucy are so well-mannered and interesting and bright and talented and funny and just the kind of children any parent would be proud to call theirs.

Standing on the state line road with Katie, left, and Lucy.

Standing on the state line road with Katie, left, and Lucy. Rural Minnesota and rural Iowa. Love it. Photo by Gretchen.

When we were about to leave, they all humored me when I insisted on standing in the middle of the state line gravel road for a photo opp, just to say I’d been simultaneously in Minnesota and Iowa, where, by the way, imaginary blogger real life friend Beth Ann lives.

The Welcome to Minnesota sign just down the road from Gretchen and Colin's place.

The “Welcome to Minnesota” sign just down the road from Gretchen and Colin’s place, photographed while driving by.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Celebrating family at the annual Kletscher reunion in southwestern Minnesota July 30, 2013

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Referees watch over the competition in which contestants filled cups, attached to their feet, with popcorn and raced to fill ice cream buckets.

Referees watch over the competition in which contestants fill cups, attached to their feet, with popcorn and race to fill ice cream buckets.

THIS YEAR THEY CALLED in the referees to control the competitors.

The competitors would be the descendants (and spouses) of Henry and Ida Kletscher, gathered on Sunday afternoon in the Vesta City Park for the annual family reunion. My aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids and their kids’ kids; my mom; four of my siblings and two of their spouses; and a single nephew.

P)lating food at the potluck meal spread across several picnic tables in the Vesta City Park shelter.

Plating food at the potluck meal spread across several picnic tables in the Vesta City Park shelter.

My first plate of food. I made sure to grab a piece of the blueberry dessert, which my Aunt Elaine brings each year. Wait too long and you miss out on a piece.

My first plate of food. I made sure to grab a piece of the blueberry dessert, which my Aunt Marilyn brings each year. Wait too long and you miss out on a piece.

Fueled by a potluck meal, preschoolers to my 90-year-old Aunt Elaine participated in an afternoon of organized competitive activities ranging from puzzle making to relay races to nail pounding to Kletscher family trivia.

In the flag race, contestants carry flags from one ice cream bucket to another.

In the flag race, contestants carry flags from one ice cream bucket to another.

Laughter erupted. Legs pounded the parched and hardened lawn. Good-natured kidding abounded.

Winners in the puzzle making competition celebrate.

Winners in the puzzle making competition celebrate. Contestants assembled 25-piece puzzles.

Teams cheered.

My cousin Greg cheats in the popcorn game in which contestants were supposed to fill cups. attached to their feet, with popcorn. He found his hands to work much better.

My cousin Greg cheats in the popcorn game in which contestants were supposed to fill cups, attached to their feet, with popcorn. He found his hands to work much better.

Cheating ran rampant, despite the two referees, who couldn’t possibly spot every rule infringement.

That would be my Aunt Janice helping to fill a squirt gun.

That would be my Aunt Janice filling a squirt gun.

In order to protect my camera, I keep my distance from the water balloon toss.

In order to protect my camera, I keep my distance from the water balloon toss.

I stepped back from the water balloon toss, dodged squirt gun fire, held my camera above the chaos to photograph the competition.

The games begin with assembling 25-piece puzzles.

The games begin with assembling 25-piece puzzles.

To a distant passerby, the goings-on may have appeared crazy and chaotic and perhaps worthy of a call to the Redwood County Sheriff’s Department.

In the nail driving contest, entrants had one minute to pound as many nails as they could into a section of wood.

In the nail driving contest, entrants had one minute to pound as many nails as they could into a section of wood.

But I observed fun—a family connecting and building memories.

Team Red poses for a photo.

Team Red poses for a photo.

In many ways, the reunion took me back to decades earlier and evenings of gathering at the farms of extended family members to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. Then I was the kid, the girl racing across a pitch black farm yard playing “Starlight Moonlight” with my cousins—connecting, building memories.

In this game, competitors soak up water with sponges and race to fill ice cream buckets.

In this game, competitors soak up water with sponges and race to fill ice cream buckets.

Today I am the photographer, capturing those memories, reveling in the blessings of belonging to a family that cares enough to come together every July in a rural southwestern Minnesota city park a skip over gravel roads from acres of cropland.

My Aunt Jeanette holds one of her newest great grandsons, who traveled from near Milwaukee with his parents and twin brother to attend the reunion. I'm guessing this is 5-month-old Landon.

My Aunt Jeanette holds one of her newest great grandsons, who traveled from near Milwaukee with his parents and twin brother to attend the reunion. At five months, Landon (or Garrett, I’m unsure which twin) is among the youngest of Henry and Ida Kletscher’s descendants. This image was shot at the Saturday evening get together. In recent years the reunion expanded to begin on Saturday evening, resuming with the Sunday noon potluck. Games were also added within the past five years to keep the young people coming and to mingle the generations.

This the land of our forefathers, the home of our hearts, the place where family memories are rooted, here on the prairie.

CHECK BACK FOR MORE photos of family reunion fun.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Willow Street quote of the day July 25, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 1:28 PM
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IF I HAD A TWITTER account, I’d be tweeting this quote right now:

“When I get drunk and high, I get this weird intelligence going on.”

Be careful what you say when you walk past my Faribault home, where my office is located within feet of the sidewalk and my window is thrust wide open.

The above quote came directly from the mouth of a young woman moments ago as she chatted with a young man.

My comment on her statement is this:

“When you get drunk and high, you have no intelligence going on.”

THOUGHTS, DEAR READERS?

Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In Faribault: A sweet moment of American patriotism July 21, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 4:21 PM
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IT’S ONE OF THOSE SWEET MOMENTS which, as a photographer, you hope to capture.

Sunday afternoon, standing outside American Legion Post 43 in Faribault, at the once-a-month event to change out the Post’s American flag, honor a local military family and remember the American service members who have lost their lives in the past 30 days, I caught that moment.

Carter Quinlan, 4 ½, of Faribault, had just accepted the Post’s retired U.S. flag in honor of his father, Derek, a member of the Air Force Reserves; his uncle, Travis Quinlan, with the Minnesota National Guard; and his grandfather, Mark Quinlan, who served with the U.S. Navy and Air Force, when I snapped this photo:

Flag presentation

The look of awe and respect on Carter’s face is one we should all emulate. To show this level of respect for those who serve and for the American flag at such a young age is remarkable. Truly remarkable.

You can see the delight in Legion Post Commander Kirk Mansfield’s face. Carter did this Gulf War veteran proud, as he did all of us who appreciate our veterans and value our freedom.

FYI: Please watch for more photos from this event and from the dedication of a private veterans’ memorial along Roberds Lake, rural Faribault.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Hydrangea thief July 20, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:09 AM
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THEY ARE ONLY FLOWERS, you say.

But these are not. These blossoms are for my daughter’s wedding.

This photo shows several stems missing their blossoms.

This photo shows several stems missing their blossoms.

And some time Friday night or early Saturday morning, someone ripped about a dozen hydrangea from the massive bushes next to my front door.

Hydrangea blossoms scattered across my yard in a deliberate act of vandalism.

Hydrangea blossoms scattered across my yard in a deliberate act of vandalism.

Am I angry? Yes. Especially when I saw the blossoms scattered across my lawn and on the side street next to my house.

...and scattered onto the side street, where the flowers were run over by vehicles.

The hydrangea were also dropped in the street.

This was clearly an act of vandalism, not the act of someone who wanted a fresh bouquet of flowers.

I live along Willow Street, one of Faribault’s busiest streets. If you saw anyone lurking near my front door ripping Annabelle hydrangea from bushes, call me, email me, stop by.

Yes, plenty of blooms still cover the bushes. For that I am grateful.

But should this happen again, be ware the Mother-of-the-Bride.

As long as I’m on the subject of respecting other people’s property, Faribault residents, do not allow your dogs to run loose and poop in my yard. I do not appreciate stepping in your pet’s poo. There are ordinances in this city regarding roaming dogs.

Just like there are laws against vandalism and theft.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling