Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Tears on a Tuesday April 17, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:20 AM
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BETWEEN FORKSFUL of the ultimate comfort food, homemade mac and cheese, I am crying. Not just tears, but great sobs that heave my shoulders, force me to remove my eyeglasses, cause me to place my head between my hands, elbows resting upon the table.

Issues of the day—anger and disappointment, worry and concerns—have welled up within me to this bursting point of emotions.

My husband sits in silence, forking mac and cheese into his mouth while the torrent of words and tears releases. I wonder what he is thinking. Perhaps that his wife has momentarily lost it.

Sometimes, though, it is good to cry, to let it all out, to be true to yourself and how you are feeling.

I tell him, too, that I feel, in this moment, as grey as the day in this longest of Minnesota winters. I want to run away from the snow and the cold and the gloom, all of it. And I think then of my mother who occasionally uttered similar despair, her desire to just run away, away from the pressing responsibilities of raising six children. Her issues are not mine. And the concerns I feel on this day are not all that major, but too much for me on this Tuesday.

So, after supper, after the left-over comfort food has been scooped into a container and tucked into the refrigerator, after I’ve washed the dishes, I suggest a walk at the local nature center. I grab my camera, slip into my Sorels, pull a stocking cap onto my head, zip my sweatshirt.

Entering River Bend Nature Center, I eye the next-door prison with seemingly infinite scrolls of razor wire unfolding before me. The site is disconcerting. I am always troubled by the prison’s presence right next to the nature center.

But as our car follows the road that dips and curves past the pond and the woods and then zooms down the hill to the center’s parking lot, I can feel the easing of tension in my shoulders.

Deer cluster in the woods at Riverbend Nature Center, Faribault.

Deer cluster in the woods at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault.

Then my husband spots the deer clustered in and on the edge of the woods and I slip from the car, leaving the door ajar so I can photograph them.

For the next hour there are no tears, no hurried worried words or thoughts, in this place of serenity.

These corn-fed deer show little fear.

These corn-fed deer show little fear.

Curious brown-eyed deer. Heads turned toward me, radar ears on alert.

Leaping across a path near the nature center parking lot.

Leaping across a path near the nature center parking lot.

Graceful leap of legs. The click of the shutter.

Last year's nest...

Last year’s nest…

Along the muddied trails, reflections of bare trees in puddles and promises of spring in green moss on dead logs. Last season’s nests bared by bare branches.

Geese on the prairie pond.

Geese on the prairie pond.

The trill of birds and the bark of geese in the swampland pond. Ripples in water. Golden sun setting. The swatch of red on a blackbird’s wings.

And in the prairie a weaving tunnel trail in the brown earth and the memories of this place waving in summer-time wildflowers and tall grass.

Day fades into evening at the nature center.

Day fades into evening at the nature center.

Here I find promise and hope in my evening of despair.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Considering the tragedy in Boston April 15, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:49 PM
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UP UNTIL SEVERAL HOURS AGO, I’d never heard of Patriot’s Day.

Now you can bet that I, like all Americans, will not forget the date two explosions rocked the Boston Marathon, killing two as of this writing.

As I watched news coverage this afternoon, fixated by the unfolding developments, the number of injured, or “wounded” as some newscasters labeled them, climbed. Twenty-three. Then fifty. Then one hundred.

This day, this event, this attack will forever sear itself into my memory, filed into that unforgettable dark corner of my mind next to the files of 9/11 and the 35W Bridge Collapse and Newtown and way too many other American tragedies.

On days like this, I simply want to weep. And I did.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Sweet finds in Montgomery, Part V: Pizza and Big Honza

Pizzeria 201 is located at 201 First Street South in downtown Montgomery.

Pizzeria 201, right, is located at 201 First Street South in downtown Montgomery.

SETTLED INTO A FRONT corner booth at Pizzeria 201 in downtown Montgomery, my husband and I watch the comings and goings at Franke’s Bakery as we wait for our Flamin’ Bleu pizza.

Our corner booth.

Our corner booth.

The popular Czech bakery is one busy place on a Saturday afternoon, as is the Pizzeria, 201 First Street South. After a few hours of perusing downtown shops, with an earlier stop at the bakery, we are hungry and ready to try out this recommended eatery.

Although I would have selected a pizza loaded with vegetables, I agree to the Flamin’ Bleu suggested by my not-so-veggie-lovin’ spouse.

“You do know it has celery and onions on it, don’t you?” I ask.

Although tasty, Flamin' Bleu was not quite what Randy expected. He expected chunks of bleu cheese topping the pizza. But then we are bleu cheese fanatics with award-winning bleu cheeses produced in our home community of Faribault.

Although tasty, Flamin’ Bleu was not quite what Randy expected. He envisioned chunks of bleu cheese topping the pizza. But then we are bleu cheese fanatics with award-winning bleu cheeses produced in our home community of Faribault. We have high expectations with bleu cheese.

He does, but orders anyway, drawn in by the Gorgonzola, hot buffalo sauce, buffalo chicken and bleu cheese crumble toppings. Pizzeria offers a wide variety of pizzas from the classic pepperoni to Hog Heaven, German (topped with sauerkraut) and more, plus several dessert selections. The beef and pork toppings come from a Le Sueur County family farm.

Pizzeria 201 also has occasional wine tour and beer tastings.

Pizzeria 201 also has occasional wine tour and beer tastings.

Not hungry for pizza? The restaurant also offers sandwiches, calzones, soups and salads and pasta dishes.

Pizzeria's inviting space.

Pizzeria’s inviting space.

While I snap photos, Randy orders, afterward sharing that the waitress asked whether he wanted our pizza sliced in squares or triangles. Neither of us can ever remember being asked that at a pizza place. Quite thoughtful, really.

Big Honza's Museum of Unnatural History, right behind Pizzeria 201.

Big Honza’s Museum of Unnatural History, right behind Pizzeria 201.

Also, when I inquire whether we can get into Big Honza’s Museum of Unnatural History, right next door, the waitress agrees to open up for us when we finish our pizza.

That's the carving of Big Honza Giganticzech, to the right of Pizzeria 201.

That’s the carving of Big Honza Giganticzech, to the right of Pizzeria 201.

So after eating a portion of our Flamin’ Bleu sliced in triangles and served with beverages poured in pint jars, we exit the Pizzeria and walk around the corner to view Montgomery’s version of Paul Bunyan Land. An over-sized wood carving of Big Honza Giganticzech stands next to the pizzeria.

During our self-guided tour in the unheated museum, we meander past an assortment of Big Honza oddities assembled by area resident John Grimm, owner of Hilltop Hall, Montgomery’s arts and cultural heritage center. You just have to laugh at this humorous collection of weird stuff.

A snippet of what you will see in the museum, including Big Honza's Farm Market, a nod to the local canning company.

A snippet of what you will see in the museum, including Big Honza’s Farm Market, a nod to the local canning company.

Big Honza's chair and more.

Big Honza’s chair and more.

Potty humor.

Potty humor.

On that note, this ends our tour of Montgomery. I’d encourage you, if you haven’t already done so, to read my entire series of stories (April 7 to today) from this south-central Minnesota Czech community of some 3,000 known as The Kolacky Capital of the World. Also check out my archives of March 4 – 8 for previous posts from Montgomery.

The whole point of this series has been not just to showcase Montgomery. It is about highlighting small towns—anywhere. All too often we dismiss small towns or overlook them with the misconception they have nothing to offer. That is so far from the truth. Every town has businesses, venues, people and events which define it as some place special.

I challenge you to look in your backyard for those places. If you live in the big city, venture out to a rural area. If you live in a small town or medium-sized city, drive to a nearby small town you’ve never explored.

If you’ve already done this sort of thing, shoot me a comment and share those small-town gems you’ve discovered. I’d love to hear from you.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The search is on for the “perfect” wedding dress April 8, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:32 AM
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My mom's dress came from the Lorraine Shop in Mankato. You'll see my mom's name, Arlene, written on the box cover.

My mom’s dress came from the Lorraine Shop in Mankato. You’ll see my mom’s name, Arlene, written on the box cover.

I HAD HOPES, when the boxed vintage wedding dresses were stashed into the back of the van for the 120-mile trip from Vesta to Faribault, that one would fit my newly-engaged daughter.

My Aunt Marilyn's bridal gown was shipped from New York to the Lorraine Shop in Mankato for 77 cents in 1961.

My Aunt Marilyn’s bridal gown was shipped from New York to the Lorraine Shop in Mankato for 77 cents in 1961.

She’d asked that I bring them—her grandma’s and her Great Aunt Marilyn’s bridal gowns—back for her to try on.

Aunt Marilyn's dress with the slim waist.

The bodice of Aunt Marilyn’s dress with the slim waist.

But, alas, no matter that my daughter is tiny, she was not slim enough to be buttoned into Marilyn’s 1961 bridal gown. Besides, she thought the skirt too pouffy.

Just like the back of my aunt's dress, my mom's bridal gown closes with a long row of buttons.

Just like the back of my aunt’s dress, my mom’s bridal gown closes with a long row of buttons.

And, although my mother’s 1954 dress was not quite as narrow, the fit was still too snug for comfort on my 27-year-old. But mostly, the bodice lace was itchy and comfort counts on your wedding day.

My parents, Vern and Arlene, on their September 25, 1954, wedding day.

My parents, Vern and Arlene, on their September 25, 1954, wedding day.

So the bride-to-be has moved to Plan B, scheduling an appointment at Andrea’s Vintage Bridal in south Minneapolis. I am delighted with my daughter’s first shopping choice. I can easily envision my girl wearing something from a bygone era. It fits her down-to-earth style and personality.

Several times she’s expressed her desire to find a gown different from the norm and, most definitely, not a strapless one. I’m totally with her on that. At way too many weddings, I’ve watched brides tug at their strapless bodices to keep everything up and in place.

No matter what dress she eventually chooses, I am confident it will be the right choice for her. Not me. Not her sister. But her, my darling precious bride-to-be eldest daughter.

SHARE YOUR WEDDING dress story with us, or tips on how and where to find the “perfect” bridal gown. And, if you have a vintage bridal dress…

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Viewing North Korea’s threats from a personal perspective April 5, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:31 AM
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HAVE YOU CONSIDERED North Korea and the recent missile threats lobbed against the U.S.?

I have.

U.S. Army Cpl. Elvern Kletscher, my father, in the trenches in Korea.

U.S. Army Cpl. Elvern Kletscher, my father, in the trenches in Korea.

For me it’s personal. Personal because some 60 years ago my father, dead 10 years now, fought as an infantryman in the Korean War. On February 26, 1953, he was struck by shrapnel at Heart Break Ridge. In May 2000, he was awarded a Purple Heart for those wounds. I don’t need to explain Heart Break Ridge. The name tells the story.

Today I reflect on his horrible experiences there and wonder whether that war was worth all the death, all the physical and psychological damage inflicted upon those who fought? Like my dad.

I suppose you could wonder this about any war. Was the war worth the lives lost, the lives changed?

The answer to that question cannot be tidied into a succinct statement, for the response would vary depending on your perspective—perhaps as a soldier, a parent who lost a son or daughter, the daughter who watched her father struggle with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

War is never neat and tidy, but rather complicated.

Did the Korean War halt the spread of Communism? Yes, in the south.

This photo, pulled from the shoebox which holds my dad's military photos, is simply labeled "front line." That would be "front line" as in Korea, where my soldier father fought.

This photo, pulled from the shoebox which holds my dad’s military photos, is simply labeled “front line.” That would be “front line” as in Korea, where my soldier father fought.

Yet, despite the signing of a truce, a definite uneasiness has existed between the two Koreas, separated by a 155-mile long, 2.5-mile wide fortified Demilitarized Zone, for 60 years.

Now North Korea’s new leader, Kim Jong-un, has thrown the region into even more uncertainty by his actions and threatened actions. I won’t expound, only note that when I heard mention of North Korean missiles on standby to possibly strike U.S. targets in  Hawaii, Washington, Los Angeles and Austin (Texas), I listened. Anytime a specific place in the U.S. is named, the entire situation becomes much more personal.

I suppose that is part of the strategy, to heighten anxieties. With so much information out there, whom do we believe? Is North Korea capable? Is it not?

This photo from my dad's collection is tagged as "Kim, Rowe, Allen & me, May 1953 Machine Gun Crew." That's my father on the right.

This photo from my dad’s collection is tagged as “Kim, Rowe, Allen & me, May 1953 Machine Gun Crew.” That’s my father on the right.

What would my Dad, who termed Korea “a hell hole,” say about all of this?

What would Teri Rae say about all of this? She was only six weeks old when her dad died. My father witnessed Ray’s death on the battlefield. (Click here to read about Ray.) He never forgot. I’ve never forgotten either the heart-wrenching and horrific story of the Nebraska soldier who never returned home to his wife or his first-born.

These are my thoughts as I consider the unsettling situation unfolding in Korea.

What are your thoughts?

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In loving memory of my farmer dad April 3, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:56 AM
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The barn where I labored alongside my father while growing up on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. File photo.

The barn where I labored alongside my father while growing up on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. File photo.

CALL ME THE BARD of barns, if you will, for barns have inspired me to pen poetic words and to compose poetic photos.

There is something about a barn rising strong and majestic or sagging with the burden of age that moves me. I am reminded of my childhood years toiling in the barn—scraping manure, wheeling ground corn in the wheelbarrow, forking silage.

Cats clumped in corners. Buckle overshoes slapping against cement. WCCO booming “Point of Law.”

Fly specks. Pink baby mice. Long sandpaper cow tongues.

The milkhouse, attached to family barn. File photo.

The abandoned milkhouse, attached to family barn. File photo.

Stuck drinking cups overflowing. Twine on bales. Pails of frothy milk.

Cracked, chapped bleeding hands slimed with Cornhuskers lotion.

Footsteps of my father. Time with Dad. Gone 10 years ago today.

A snippet of the land my father farmed, my middle brother after him. The land and farm site are now rented out.

A snippet of the land my father farmed, my middle brother after him. The land and farm site are now rented out.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hope for one of Minnesota’s most dangerous rural highways March 29, 2013

IF YOU EVER HAVE traveled U.S. Highway 14 west of North Mankato, you will understand why I am thrilled that something is finally being done to improve a small stretch—the 10 miles between North Mankato and Nicollet—of this deadly roadway.

Heavy traffic on U.S. Highway 14 between Nicollet and North Mankato late last Sunday afternoon.

Heavy traffic on U.S. Highway 14 between Nicollet and North Mankato late last Sunday afternoon.

Based on my more than 30 years of traveling Highway 14, I can unequivocally tell you that this rural roadway rates as dangerous. Think narrow lanes, heavy traffic, speeding, few opportunities to pass safely and too many drivers passing when they shouldn’t be.

Read this revealing information from the Minnesota Department of Transportation:

The U.S. Highway 14 corridor between New Ulm and North Mankato in Nicollet County recorded 250 crashes from 2006 to 2010. This overall crash rate is consistent with comparable rural state highways. However, 11 of those crashes had either a fatality or a serious injury, leaving this portion of Hwy 14 with a fatal and serious injury crash rate 50 percent greater than comparable rural state highways. Safety in the area from North Mankato to Nicollet and at the intersection of Hwy 14 and Hwy 15 north of New Ulm is of particular concern.

Did you catch that statistic? A fatal and serious injury crash rate 50 percent greater than comparable rural state highways. Impressive and scary, huh?

You'll see lots of semis traveling this stretch of rural Minnesota highway.

You’ll see lots of semis traveling this stretch of rural Minnesota highway. This recently-installed buffer strip now runs all the way between North Mankato and Nicollet.

In recent years, when traveling to southwestern Minnesota to visit family, my husband and I often have taken the “back way” to Nicollet from Faribault, passing through towns like Le Center, Cleveland and St. Peter, to avoid that horrible 10-mile stretch of Highway 14 from North Mankato. We’ve checked mileage and travel time and found both routes to be nearly identical.

Entering the construction zone, westbound on Highway 14 in North Mankato.

Entering the construction zone, westbound on Highway 14 in North Mankato.

But many times we still take Highway 14 between North Mankato and Nicollet. Now it’s a bit safer with a buffer, traffic sticks (to prevent passing) and rumble strips recently added between lanes. Those changes marked the first stage of efforts to make this area of roadway safer.

We were driving eastbound in this Highway 14 construction area in North Mankato when I snapped this photo.

We were driving eastbound in this Highway 14 construction area in North Mankato when I snapped this photo.

Sometime in 2017 or 2018, construction is expected to begin on a project which will extend the four-lane all the way from North Mankato to Nicollet. Finally.

That still leaves about 15 miles of dangerous Highway 14 travel between Nicollet and New Ulm.

Ten miles are a start in saving lives along this notorious rural roadway. But I, personally, will not be satisfied until the entire 25-mile stretch between North Mankato and New Ulm becomes a four-lane.

Highway 14 slices through agricultural land, as seen in this photo taken between Nicollet and Courtland.

Highway 14 slices through agricultural land, as seen in this photo taken between Nicollet and Courtland.

IF YOU’VE EVER driven Highway 14 between North Mankato and New Ulm, I’d like to hear your stories and thoughts about travel there.

To see the entire listing of 2013 MnDOT road construction projects slated for Greater Minnesota, click here.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Raising monies for Jaws of Life at a small town pork chop feed March 28, 2013

Pork chop dinner take-out at the Vesta Community Hall.

Pork chop supper take-out at the Vesta Community Hall.

SMALL TOWN, MINNESOTA, on a Saturday night, and I am snapping pictures at a pork chop supper in the community hall.

This could be Any Town, rural Minnesota. But this is my hometown of Vesta, population around 330, situated half way between Redwood Falls and Marshall along State Highway 19 on the southwestern Minnesota prairie.

Volunteer firefighters, including my cousin Randy, left, grill pork chops outside the hall.

Volunteer firefighters, including my cousin Randy, left, grill pork chops outside the hall. The firemen served about 250 meals.

Outside the hall, several volunteer firemen, including my cousin Randy, are grilling chops over an open charcoal pit for the annual Vesta Firemen’s Relief Association Pork Chop Supper.

David Widman sells tickets.

David Widman sells tickets.

Harlan and Karen step up to the serving window, where Erin, center, and other volunteers dish up food.

Harlan and Karen step up to the serving window, where Erin, center, and other volunteers dish up food.

The grilled pork chop meal.

The grilled pork chop meal.

Inside, Randy’s wife, Erin, and others are scooping up baked beans and potato salad and parceling out chops while other volunteers sell tickets and pour beverages. My nearly 81-year-old mom, whom we are visiting for the weekend, is treating my husband and me to supper.

I knew most of the diners.

I knew most of the diners.

As I mingle among diners, chatting with aunts, an uncle, cousins, and locals I haven’t seen in awhile, I’m cognizant of the importance of this event to raise funds for the Vesta Volunteer Fire Department. Proceeds will go toward a new $25,000 Jaws of Life device, already purchased with a $5,000 grant, past Pork Chop feed dollars and a loan.

Volunteer firemen remove the windshield from a junk car.

Volunteer firemen remove the windshield from a junk car.

After finishing my meal, at 7 p.m,, I step outside the Vesta Community Hall to observe several volunteer firemen remove a windshield and peel open the doors of a junk car using that new Jaws of Life.

About 30 onlookers gathered outside the hall to watch the Jaws of Life demonstration.

About 30 onlookers gathered outside the hall to watch the Jaws of Life demonstration.

Bracing myself against the stiff wind in a “feels more like 15 than 30 degrees,” I question my judgment in roving around the “accident scene” taking photos. Why would this crowd of about 30 stand outside in this raw weather watching this demonstration?

Because they care. Because they support their local volunteer firemen and First Responders. Because they know this could be them or their next-door-neighbor or their sibling or some stranger off the highway in need of rescue and emergency care.

Peeling away doors with the new Jaws of Life.

Peeling away doors with the new Jaws of Life.

The fire department typically responds to 12 – 15 fire calls annually in a 61 square mile area covering the City of Vesta, Vesta Township and part of Underwood Township, according to Fire Chief Travis Welch. In 2012, firefighters fought a major shop fire. They also responded to two head-on crashes which left three dead. Eight of the volunteer firemen serve as Vesta First Responders.

To the 18 volunteer firefighters—Travis, Jeremy D., Dallas, George, Randy, Tony, Aaron, Jeff, Jeremy K., Jon, David, Brian, Jason, Andrew, Neal, Jordan, Ryan B. and Ryan E.—thank you for being there for my hometown of Vesta.

Standing in front of the community hall, I watch the sun set in my hometown.

Standing in front of the community hall, I turn and watch the sun set in my hometown.

FYI: If you wish to donate monies toward the $5,000 balance owed for the Jaws of Life, mail your donation to:

Vesta Fire Relief
c/o David Widman
Box 104
Vesta, MN. 56292

The new Jaws of Life replaces jaws more than 20 years old and “unable to cut some of the new high tensile steel in today’s cars,” according to a letter from the Vesta Firemen’s Relief Association.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Little General Store on the Prairie March 27, 2013

I LOVE BERNADETTE THOOFT’S infectious laugh and outgoing personality. And I love what this mother of seven is doing for my hometown.

The Store: Thrift and More sits just off Minnesota Highway 19 in Vesta in Redwood County.

The Store: Thrift and More sits just off Minnesota Highway 19 in Vesta in Redwood County.

In February she opened The Store: Thrift and More in Vesta, population 330 and the only town along the 40-mile stretch of Minnesota Highway 19 between Redwood Falls and Marshall.

The “more” part of Bernadette’s store includes eight shelving units stocked with foodstuff, personal care items, paper products and more in addition to perishables stashed in nearby coolers.

The grocery section of the store includes basic perishables like dairy products, some fruit, lettuce and more. Canned, boxed and bagged foods, personal care items, and miscellaneous items like greeting cards, tape and such fill eight shelving units.

The grocery section of the store includes basic perishables like dairy products, organic eggs, some fruit, lettuce and more. Canned, boxed and bagged foods; personal care items; and miscellaneous items like greeting cards, tape and such fill eight shelving units.

I don’t know exactly how long my hometown has been without a grocery store. But it’s been awhile. Locals, like my 80-year-old mom, have had to drive 20 miles either east or west to find the nearest grocery store. Now this community’s residents, many of them elderly, need only walk or drive to the west edge of town to buy a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, organic eggs from Bernadette and Matt Thooft’s farm, fruit and an assortment of processed foods that include SPAM, much to my mom’s delight.

This is huge, to have groceries and basic necessities available in Vesta. Bernadette even offered to have her 11-year-old son deliver right to my mom’s doorstep a block away. Such small-town neighborliness simply warms my heart. Many times the good people of Vesta have assisted my mother. And for that, I am grateful.

Looking toward the back thrift section of the floor.

Looking from the front grocery section toward the back thrift area of The Store.

Bernadette tells me she originally hadn’t planned on stocking groceries, rather dedicating her floor space to thrift items that range from kitchenware to toys, books to clothing, gift items to home décor and an assortment of other merchandise.

Vintage glasses in the thrift section.

Vintage glasses in the thrift section.

Bernadette offers a great selection of used books for all ages.

Bernadette offers a great selection of used books for all ages.

You'll also find a selection of clothes.

You’ll also find a shoes and clothing.

One of my favorite finds in The Store, an $8 vintage Pyrex casserole, which I nearly purchased.

One of my favorite finds in The Store, an $8 vintage Pyrex casserole, which I nearly purchased.

But then she started getting requests to carry groceries. So Bernadette decided to buy food and products her family can use. That way, if items don’t sell, she doesn’t lose anything. Once a week this entrepreneur mother drives the 20 miles west to Hy-Vee Foods in Marshall, reselling her purchases in Vesta at a slightly marked up price that will help cover gas expenses.

Jason Kramer stops in to buy a few grocery items from Bernadette.

Jason Kramer stops in to buy a few grocery items from Bernadette.

Already several local families come to The Store once a week to purchase their groceries, she says. On the Saturday afternoon I visited, Jason Kramer popped in from his home across the street to pick up Oreos, chips, bread and milk. He calls opening of The Store “flippin’ awesome.”

It is that type of enthusiasm Bernadette hopes for from other Vesta area residents. She needs their support, and business off the highway, to make her venture work in this isolated prairie town.

Just another view of the store with Bernadette bagging Jason's purchases.

Just another view of the store and Bernadette’s office with Bernadette bagging Jason’s purchases.

In the short time I perused the store and spoke with Bernadette, several others stopped in—two middle schoolers to eye the toy collection and eventually purchase candy, a middle-aged couple scanning thrift items and then Jason for his groceries. I walked out with a kettle for my college-aged son and my husband grabbed packaging tape and a dispenser.

This 1800s general store counter anchors The Store.

This 1800s general store counter anchors The Store. Those are our purchases on the counter, that kettle and tape.

Bernadette says she’s aiming to recreate a Mom and Pop general store with a little bit of everything. I was delighted to find candy lining the 1800s checkout counter, reminding me of the penny candy I bought at Rasmussen’s Grocery while growing up in Vesta. The vintage counter, purchased from a Lake Benton antique store, originated from a general store between Lake Benton and Brookings, South Dakota. It’s the perfect fit for The Store, lending that historic authenticity reminiscent of yesteryear.

Like the old-fashioned general store, Bernadette has set up candy display, including my favorite Tootsie Pops.

Like the old-fashioned general store, Bernadette has set up a candy display, including my favorite Tootsie Pops.

I can remember when Vesta boasted two hardware stores, several restaurants/bars and a grocery store along with other businesses, in its one-block Main Street.

Rarely does a new business open here. But Bernadette, who lives on a farm near Lucan seven miles to the south, was looking to locate along the highway, conveniently next door to her husband’s business, Matt’s Frame Repair.

A young customer exits The Store, left, while three of the Thooft kids, including Maxwell, 4, and Beatrice, 21 months, hang out with Mom.

A young customer exits The Store, left, while three of the Thooft kids, including Maxwell, 4, and Beatrice, 21 months, hang out with Mom. The Thooft’s children include an 11-year-old, two 7-year-olds, two 4-year-olds, a 3-year-old and a 21-month-old.

She likes that Matt can walk over for lunch and spend time with her and the kids, ranging in age from 21 months to 11 years. She affectionately calls her seven, five of them birth children, two adopted, “the hoodlums.” The kids hang out in a room built into a corner of the poleshed style building.

Look around and you'll see Bernadette's sense of humor in signage and props like this doll perched upon the cash register.

Look around and you’ll see Bernadette’s sense of humor in signage and props like this doll perched upon the cash register.

While the kids play and Matt naps in that corner playroom, Bernadette tends to customers on this Saturday afternoon in March. Her laptop sits open on her desk, her reference source for the thrift merchandise purchased primarily from online auctions and also from garage sales.

This sign by the thrift store points travelers along Minnesota Highway 19, left, to The Store and the Vesta Cafe.

This sign by the thrift store points travelers along Minnesota Highway 19, left, to The Store and the Vesta Cafe.

Bernadette is donating 10 percent of thrift sale proceeds to local charities like the United Way, a crisis nursery, area schools and the broader Minnesota Citizens Concerned for Life. She’s also created a “Believe in the Backpack” charity whereby she fills backpacks for kids in foster care.

In the short time I’ve spent with Bernadette, it’s clear to me that this Osakis native and former daycare provider loves kids and cares about folks in my hometown enough to open her own little general store on the prairie. And for that I am grateful.

This sign graces the front of The Store: Thrift and More.

This sign graces the front of The Store: Thrift and More.

FYI: The Store: Thrift and More is open from 9 a.m. – 5:30 p.m. Monday and Wednesday; from 9 a.m. – 8 p.m. Thursday; and with varied hours on Friday and Saturday. Closed Sunday and Tuesday.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Buried in snow March 26, 2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:55 AM
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I WANTED TO VISIT his grave, touch the cold stone with my gloved hands, allow my eyes to linger on his name, to remember my dad, dead 10 years now on April 3.

A trip back to my hometown to visit my mom had thrown me into a temporary melancholy mood as I lounged on her loveseat, head crooked into a pillow, legs angled up as we talked about aging and death and funerals (too many recently).

When I mentioned that I’d often thought about the safety layers of generations separating me from death, my husband glanced at me like I was crazy. My 80-year-old mom understood, though.

The road past the Vesta Cemetery, which sits just outside of this southwestern Minnesota town of some 330.

The road past the Vesta Cemetery, left, which sits just outside of this southwestern Minnesota town of some 330. You can see a portion of Vesta’s grain complex to the right.

Later, she stayed back at her house while Randy and I drove out to the cemetery, to honor my dad whose gravesite I do not visit often enough because busyness and blizzards have kept me from the prairie in recent months.

We headed north out of town along Cemetery Road, tires crunching on gravel, toward the cemetery edged by evergreen trees. At my feet, the short black snowboots I’d borrowed from my mom bumped against my legs.

Some of the gravestones are barely peeking out of the snow.

Some of the gravestones are barely peeking out of the snow.

I wondered aloud whether the cemetery roads would be plowed of snow swept in by prairie winds. A few blocks later I spotted waves of snow washing over tombstones and roadways. I could not reach my dad’s grave without snowshoes or a snowmobile.

The closest I would get to my dad's grave was viewing the cemetery through t

The closest I would get to my dad’s grave was viewing the cemetery through the van windows.

We eased past the cemetery, drove down to the first farm place to the north, turned around in the driveway and crept past the cemetery again, back into town.

I carried my mom’s boots inside, snugged them into a corner of her kitchen, before reclaiming my place on her loveseat.

I told her about the tombstones buried in snow. Then we talked about dad’s funeral—the bitter cold of that April day, the cutting wind.

And I remembered, although I did not speak this, how I’d perched on a hard folding chair in that hilltop cemetery 10 years ago, leaned toward my mother shivering in cold and in grief, and wrapped my arm around her.

© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling