Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Remembering the quotes of 35W bridge collapse survivor Garrett Ebling August 4, 2012

YOU’VE LIKELY SEEN HIM on the news this week, perhaps read about him in a newspaper article. He would be Garrett Ebling, survivor of the 35W bridge collapse.

I’ve never met Garrett, although we have communicated, first after my son was struck by a hit-and-run driver near my Faribault home in May of 2006. Garrett was managing editor of The Faribault Daily News then and showed such compassion and concern for my son and our family.

The following year, not long after the bridge collapse, Garrett and I would reconnect. This time I was on the other end, offering him compassion, concern and prayers as he battled to recover from severe injuries sustained when his car plunged from the bridge into the Mississippi River.

His fortitude impressed me then and still does.

Shortly after, I asked Garrett if he would share his experiences and thoughts with me for a magazine article. He agreed, granting me one of only a few interview requests he accepted. The result was a feature story which published in the November/December 2007 issue of Minnesota Moments. Garrett answered my questions via email given his jaw was wired shut or had recently been unwired, I can’t recall now which. That interview process worked best given his tenuous physical and emotional condition.

The story also included information and quotes from phone interviews with his rescuer, Rick Kraft of St. Paul, and his fiancee, Sonja Birkeland, to whom he’d proposed only four days before the bridge collapse. (They married on August 3, 2008, one year and two days after the bridge collapse and now have a young son, Cooper.)

Garrett’s responses to my long list of questions showed me his incredible strength, determination and positive attitude. He shared his excitement after he stood for the first time in these words:

This morning I stood up—STOOD UP—for the first time since the accident. I was so excited I screamed to my therapist: “Monica, look! I’m standing! I can’t believe it!” But with my jaw wired shut it sounded like “”Wonka, ook! Aye andin! Aye ant eave it!” For a brief moment I didn’t care that I’m muzzled.

Sir Edmund Hillary—the first person to climb Mount Everest—once said “It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” When this is all said and done, I will be standing—STANDING—at the top of the mountain.

But I will not have conquered the bridge. Rather, I will have bested the uncomfortability, the uncertainty, the pain. I will have realized from which the depths I can rise up.

It’s the top of the mountain that puts us closest to heaven.

That last sentence, particularly, has stuck with me through the years. This week I worked the quote into a poem I submitted to The Minneapolis StarTribune which issued a call to readers for 35W poems. Mine, “Quotes from a survivor,” was accepted for online publication and was also published in the Variety section of the August 4 print edition. You will find it, and several other poems, by clicking here. Poems were limited to 35 words.

Garrett, the former journalist and now a small business owner of a sandwich shop, recently published a book, Collapsed: A Survivor’s Climb From the Wreckage of the 35W Bridge. Notice that use, again, of the word “climb.”

I have not yet gotten a copy of Garrett’s book. But I expect inspiring words from this man who has overcome seemingly insurmountable physical and emotional obstacles during his climb to the mountaintop.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Land of the FREE July 30, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:28 AM
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Bridge graffiti along Minnesota Highway 28.

DO YOU EVER WONDER—because I do—how, when and why graffiti is spray painted onto bridges, buildings, boxcars and elsewhere?

Do these artists/vandals/rebels/criminals (choose the noun that fits) plot and then sneak, in the cover of darkness, to scrawl their messages and art upon these very public canvases?

Why?

Who are these defiers of rules?

Did they scribble with crayons on walls while growing up? Did they doodle in notebooks when they should have been doing homework? Are they reckless and wild or the girl/boy next door accepting a dare?

I’ve never known a graffiti artist, although I’d like to meet the one who block-letter-printed “FREE” on this train overpass along Minnesota State Highway 28 between Morris and Sauke Centre.

I’d ask him/her, “Why did you choose that word, ‘FREE?’”

Have you freed yourself from something? Have you set someone free? Or do you simply appreciate what it means to live in the land of the free?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

What is this world coming to? July 20, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:17 PM
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THE QUESTION LINGERS on the edge of my brain, nearly tumbling in words onto my tongue, over my lips and out my mouth.

What is this world coming to?

Do you ever ponder that very same question, asking today why a 24-year-old would open fire in a Colorado movie theater killing a dozen and injuring some 60 more? Why? What drives a person to such violence, to take the lives of other human beings who are simply out for an evening of entertainment?

Why, on July 10, did a father in River Falls, Wisconsin, kill his three young daughters? To get back at/punish/hurt his ex-wife?

Why do two young girls vanish, poof, just like that, while riding their bikes in a small Iowa town?

What is this world coming to?

About two blocks away from this anniversary party in south Minneapolis, a crime scene was unfolding late last Sunday morning.

Why, last Sunday, when my family drove to south Minneapolis for a 50th wedding anniversary party, did we turn off Lyndale Avenue and a block away encounter a multitude of police cars and yellow crime scene tape and a TV news crew arriving? We continued on our way wondering what was unfolding as we greeted family, sipped lemonade and slipped into folding chairs in the festive, fenced in backyard just down the street and around the corner.

When my middle brother arrived a bit later, he noted that officers were posed with weapons drawn. Were any of us in danger as we drove past the scene?

What is this world coming to?

Why are children, the most innocent of victims, being shot and killed in Minneapolis on such a regular basis that this horrible crime no longer surprises us?

Have we become immune to violence and the essence of evil which drives it?

What is this world coming to?

When will the killing stop?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Gravel road on the prairie July 9, 2012

A gravel road just north of Lamberton in southwestern Minnesota.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT a gravel road?

A picturesque farm site on a sultry summer evening as seen from a gravel road north of Lamberton.

It is poetry and peace, country and charm.

You can almost hear the crunch of the gravel in this image.

But it is more. It is small stones crunching under tires and feet as dust rises and lingers, marking the trail traveled.

As the sun sets on the prairie, a truck travels along a gravel road up to a paved roadway north of Lamberton.

It is a marker of townships, the route of massive yellow road graders blading the road surface to a flat finish or heaving snow toward ditches.

It is memories of bumpy school bus rides and squishing into the back seat of the family car between brothers and sisters.

It is Dad’s admonition to always, always, move to the right when cresting a hill.

Utility lines along the same gravel road stretch into forever.

It is the memory of pinpoint stars dotting the pitch black darkness of a prairie night and the sweet scents of wild roses (once) rambling in ditches and of freshly-mown alfalfa and of hay baled and stacked onto a swaying wagon.

A gravel road is all of these to me, and yet, in its most basic definition, it serves as a way to get from point A to point B, and marks borders between town and country.

Standing on the gravel road, I turned south to photograph the cornfield and Lamberton in the distance.

It is a line in a plat book, a route connecting paved roads, a path to a rural home.

It is a gravel road on the prairie.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Oh, beautiful America, land of the free July 4, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:36 AM
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IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, we have much to be thankful for, most notably our freedom. Have a wonderful Fourth of July and enjoy these photos, my gift to you as we celebrate the birth of our great nation.

My great nephew Hank, born on June 20, is celebrating his first Fourth of July.

My daughters light the southwestern Minnesota prairie sky with sparklers at a weekend pre-July Fourth family gathering.

The flag which flies at the home of my middle brother.

Flags line the park area along Highway 169 through St. Peter.

One of my favorite patriotic songs, America the Beautiful.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Memories of a boy who loved fireflies June 30, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:06 AM
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A plaque marks the entry to Justin’s Memory Garden.

I NEVER IMAGINED, when I published a post here on June 16 about the Memory Garden which honors my nephew Justin, that you, dear readers, would so fervently embrace a sculpture from that garden.

But I suppose my enthusiasm for the little boy holding a jar of fireflies ignited in the words I wrote.

Now, because of that story and accompanying photos, five more gardens—four in southeastern Minnesota and one at a Colorado hospital—will become homes for the little boy.

My husband, Randy, and Little Justin on the back steps before I moved Justin to a spot on the patio by the brilliant pink wave petunias.

He’s already in my backyard, my Little Justin, as Justin’s uncle, my husband, calls the garden sculpture.

Every evening as darkness settles in, the fireflies in the jar begin to glow, reminding me of my nephew who died too soon of Hodgkin’s disease 11 years ago at the age of 19.

Fireflies glow in the sculpture I recently purchased in memory of my nephew Justin.

Says his mother, Vivian:

Justin liked watching fireflies, especially when sitting at a bonfire. He loved looking at the stars and he loved Christmas tree lights, especially blue ones. He would often holler, “Mom/Dad, come and look at the sunset,” or the rainbow, or “there’s a shooting star.”

He didn’t want us to plant a tree in a particular spot because it would ruin the sightline for the sunsets—we never have planted one there.

Though we never talked about it specifically, he enjoyed light, from the heavens, in various forms.

And so, when the mother of the boy who loved light and fireflies and the heavens, saw the “Lightning Bugs with Boy” sculpture in a brochure the day before Mother’s Day, she felt moved to purchase it for Justin’s Memory Garden.

“As I’ve gotten older, I follow those instincts more readily,” Vivian says.

It is the first sculpture she’s purchased for the garden that honors her son. The other garden art—a plaque, dove, angel and birth bath—have come from friends as have most of the plants.

That, she says, makes it a true Memory Garden.

If you’re one of the gardeners who has purchased/is purchasing a Little Justin, hold close this story and imagine the little boy who loved light and is now living in the light.

A close-up of my Little Justin’s endearing face.

FYI: Vivian and I both ordered our “Lightning Bugs with Boy” sculptures from our local True Value hardware stores, hers in Morris, mine in Faribault. My sculpture had to be shipped in from Oregon. The product cannot be ordered online from True Value, but if you would like to view it, click here.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Fargo bound: A lot of country June 19, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:55 AM
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Somewhere along Interstate 94 in Minnesota westbound for Fargo, N.D. Oftentimes you can see into forever.

I EXPECT FOR MANY WESTBOUND TRAVELERS, the drive from the Twin Cities metro area to Fargo, North Dakota, can stretch into long and boring infinity.

And I’ll admit, even though I appreciate wide open spaces and big sky, I, too, occasionally find myself bored on the 280-mile trip from our Faribault home. But I best learn to enjoy the journey as my youngest starts classes in two months at North Dakota State University.

Scenes like this along I94 possess a certain beauty, at least from my prairie heart perspective.

With that said, I know I’ll never like the portion of the trip that takes our family through the Twin Cities metro area. Heavy traffic, crazy drivers and road construction make for anything but pleasant travel.

Once we get past Monticello and transition into the more rural area, I start to relax and observe the landscape rather than worry about crazy drivers. Did I mention crazy drivers who weave and tailgate and drive 85 mph? Oh, yes, I did.

Cows graze in a pasture along the interstate.

When I focus my eyes, and camera, upon a pastoral scene of grazing cows or a tidy farm site or billowing clouds in the big sky, I begin to appreciate that which surrounds me. And if my family had the luxury of time, we’d exit the interstate and explore those places where life is lived at a slower pace and savored rather than rushed by at the hurry-up-and-get-there speed of taking the interstate.

We passed the bus of singer, songwriter and Nashville recording artist David Church westbound on I94. Since I am not a fan of country western music, I had to google David Church to learn about him.

There’s a lot of country to appreciate along Interstate 94 aiming west toward Fargo. A lot of country, indeed.

Enjoy the journey.

Born and raised on a southwestern Minnesota dairy farm, I have a deep appreciation for barns.

The big sky truly defines the drive along Interstate 94 west toward Fargo.

Loved this farm site. If you look closely, you’ll notice a gem of an old pick-up truck in the shed behind the barn.

Grazing cattle. I never tire of a view like this.

FYI: Check back for posts from Fargo, where we found the locals particularly friendly.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Remembering Justin, with love June 16, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:07 PM
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An overview showing a portion of a beautiful western Minnesota memory garden graced with flowers and garden art and a bench for quiet contemplation, photographed Friday evening.

SUNLIGHT DAPPLED THROUGH the trees as the summer day transitioned into evening during that magical hour(s) of light beloved by every photographer.

I was cognizant of the fleeting, perfect light as I meandered, camera in hand, along the stone path in the garden edged by swamp grasses on two sides, by manicured lawn on the other borders.

The buttercup yellow of a columbine.

I admired the columbines and Russian sage, the zinnias and the day lilies, the promise of daisies, the sedum and the ground-hugging creepers that crept between the stones laid as a walking path.

A bee sips in the early evening.

Beautiful angel. Beautiful light.

Once I bent close to photograph a busy bee and then an angel, hands clasped in reverent prayer, wings spread wide, stones from Montana ringing her feet.

For the love of playing baseball and watching baseball with Dad.

Half way through the garden I paused beside four baseball bats laid end to end in a rectangular shape honoring the boy who loved baseball.

The newest addition to the garden, a solar-powered sculpture of a boy holding a jar of fireflies.

I circled along the back edge of the garden and knelt before garden art of a boy holding fireflies captive in a jar. I returned later, when darkness crept into the day, to photograph the fireflies aglow. I smiled at the memory of the boy catching fireflies.

And when darkness began to descend upon the prairie, the fireflies were aglow. I plan to get a sculpture just like this for my flower garden.

I read the marker at the garden entrance, before entering and then again upon leaving. I wondered how a mother and a father could bear such grief.

The entry to Justin’s garden.

And the next day, I hugged the parents of the boy—my nephew—who would have celebrated his 30th birthday. Today. And my husband and son and I gave Justin’s mother half a dozen red roses and a blue balloon to release with the other blue balloons she and my brother-in-law will send heavenward today. To celebrate the young man whose life held such promise, such love, such hope for the future.

THIS POST IS WRITTEN  in loving memory of my nephew, Justin, who was born on June 16, 1982, and died at the age of 19 on August 20, 2001, from Hodgkin’s disease. His parents created a beautiful memory garden in their yard honoring their son.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Discussing the economy and jobs at a Faribault thrift store June 5, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:03 AM
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“THE ECONOMY WILL only get worse and this time it will be world-wide,” he warns, he being an unemployed, former military man.

“But I think things are getting better,” I counter. “I’ve seen more jobs openings posted in the paper, more houses selling.”

He disagrees, says he has military friends in Europe. Times are tough there and only getting worse.

I am surprised by the doom-and-gloom economic forecast delivered by this 50-something-year-old job seeker during a brief conversation at The Clothes Closet, a used clothing store in downtown Faribault. I don’t know him, but he’s squeezed past me several times, carrying clothing from the back of the store to the check-out counter.

Finally, I can no longer contain my curiosity and comment, “You’re sure buying a lot of clothes.”

“I’m looking for a job,” he says, then begins spilling his story like we are long-time friends.

He can’t make ends meet on his military pension, although he’s grateful for that income, he says. So he’s looking for a job in security, maybe with the border patrol. He’ll travel soon to Corpus Christi in search of work that pays more than $9 an hour.

His 15-year-old daughter, who has been living with her mother, is coming with him. He’s relieved to no longer be paying $900 in monthly child support to a woman he says did not spend the money on their daughter. He seems genuinely happy to have his girl back.

But he’s not so cheerful about the process of applying for a job. “It’s not like it used to be where you can walk in and sell yourself,” he says. He doesn’t like the online resume job-screening process, preferring instead the personal one-on-one contact with a potential employer.

He looks like the type of fellow who could, face-to-face, easily sell himself as a security guard. Ex-military. Big guy. I expect he appears intimidating and authoritative in a uniform.

But for now, for this day, he is an unemployed and worried American buying clothes at a second-hand clothing store in Minnesota.

I was searching in my files for an image to illustrate this post. This particular photo has nothing to do with the man I engaged in conversation or the thrift store where we talked or even his job search. Yet, I consider it fitting for this story, and here’s why. To me, this shot from Main Street in tiny Norwalk exhibits this southwestern Wisconsin community’s optimism. Against the backdrop of weathered and shuttered buildings stand two symbols of optimism: those gorgeous hanging baskets and the American flag. Norwalk, along the Elroy-Sparta Bike Trail, calls itself “The Black Squirrel Capital of the World.”

WHAT’S YOUR OPINION on the economy? Is is improving or, as the ex-military man predicts, going to get considerably worse here and world-wide by this fall?

According to “employment situation” information released by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics on June 1, “the unemployment rate (for May) was essentially unchanged at 8.2 percent.” Currently, 12.7 million people are unemployed. The unemployment rate for adult men is 7.8 percent. To read the full report, click here.

ARE YOU LOOKING for a job? Share your experience by submitting a comment. How do you feel about the online job application process used by most businesses?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reflecting on hugs, green beans & the future on the final day of high school June 1, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:54 AM
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My son graduates from kindergarten at Faribault Lutheran School in May 2000.

I DID NOT EXPECT melancholy to wash over me Thursday morning as I hugged my 18-year-old goodbye on his final day of high school.

But I suppose, now that I think about it, why wouldn’t I feel somewhat sad after 21 years of sending off-spring off to school.

I made it a point, with all three of my children, to send them out the door with a hug and a kiss and a “Have a good day at school.” Well, at least that was my intention. As the grade-schoolers became pre-teens and then teens, the kisses were often skipped. But not the hugs. No, not the hugs.

Thursday morning, on my son’s final day of classes, I embraced him in a lingering, vise grip hold. I expected him to resist such an emotional display of affection and pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, his lanky arms gripped tighter around me, both of us understanding this to be a bittersweet moment we wanted to remember, or at least that I wanted to remember.

Just the evening before, my son asked if I remembered his first day of kindergarten. I paused and then realized that, no, I did not recall that first day of sending him off to school.

But I did remember the day he got in trouble from his kindergarten teacher for stuffing green beans into his milk carton at lunch time. And I do recall the day he came home proclaiming he loved Mrs. K more than me. I’m pretty certain that was prior to the disappearing green beans trick.

Turns out he truly didn’t love Mrs. K more than me and he still doesn’t like green beans.

The disappearing part, though…how did the years between my son’s birth and age 18 disappear so quickly? Poof. Just like that he’s all grown up and ready to venture into the world without those morning hugs.

When my 18-year-old arrived home from his final day of classes Thursday afternoon, I welcomed him with a hug.

“That’s it,” he said.

He has no idea. It’s only the beginning.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling