Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by 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

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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

 

Honoring our soldiers at a rural Minnesota cemetery May 29, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:46 AM
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Walking into the Cannon City Cemetery for a Memorial Day program.

CANNON CITY on Memorial Day is about as grassroots Americana as you’ll get.

Here locals and those rooted to this land gather in a country cemetery for an annual observance which began some nine decades ago as “Decoration Day.”

The cemetery entrance.

While a Death March and marching students and lilac wreaths and a school picnic are no longer a part of the observance, it remains firmly patriotic, firmly established as a tradition in unincorporated Cannon City near Faribault.

I came here with my husband on Monday because we’d come here last Memorial Day and were so impressed and moved by the experience that we wanted to attend again.

A snippet of those gathered for Monday’s program, including Jean Pederson, seated left, who recited “In Flanders Fields,” and others who led the program.

It is the simple, unpretentious, down-to-earth patriotic feel of this under-the-trees, between-the-tombstones, informal program that appeals to me.

Here Steve Bonde blasts “The Star Spangled Banner” and “God Bless America” and 40 voices sing “America, the Beautiful,” “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

Don Chester sets up his guitar and music before the program.

You cannot help but feel connected to your fellow Americans and to those who fought for freedom while you stand here, wind whipping song sheets, singing “Let music swell the breeze, ring from all the trees Sweet freedom’s song…”

All eyes are on the American flag.

You cannot help but feel American pride as you place your hand across your heart, turn your eyes toward the American flag flying high above the cemetery gate and recite “The Pledge of Allegiance.”

A star marks a veteran’s grave.

You cannot help but ponder the deep sorrow of families, the sacrifices of so many as the names of soldiers are read: Samuel, Ezekiel, William, Walter…

Kathleen Kanne plays a soulful song by J.S. Bach.

You cannot help but sense the spirits of the dead as 18-year-old Kathleen Kanne slides a bow across her violin in a soul-touching rendition of “Gavotte in G Minor” by J.S. Bach.

And then as Kathleen reads a tribute she’s written, you contemplate the wisdom of her words: “Cannon City Cemetery is a patch of land that lives because of the dead.”

And later, when you talk to this college freshman, you admire her determination to become more involved with the cemetery association after attending the Memorial Day service for the first time in 2011. She was visiting her father’s grave then—he died unexpectedly at age 58—and was impressed enough by the program to return and participate.

You cannot help but appreciate Cannon city native Jean Pederson who presents a history of “In Flanders Fields” before reciting “In Flanders Fields the poppies blow between the crosses row on row…”

One of many soldiers’ graves in this cemetery. Twenty-two Civil War soldiers are buried here.

You cannot help but feel grateful for freedom as Cannon City Township Board member Preston Bauer, on the spot, steps up to read The Gettysburg Address: “…these dead shall not have died in vain.”

You cannot help but place yourself in the shoes of a young soldier at war as Deb Moriarity reads the “Soldier’s Psalm,” Psalm 91: “…He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day…”

Steve Bonde, right in the distance, plays the taps.

Then, as Steve Bonde, stands at the edge of the cemetery next to a tilled field and closes the program with the mournful sounding of taps, you cannot help but feel a deep sense of grief rush over you in remembrance of all who sacrificed themselves for their country, for freedom.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In gratitude to our veterans for protecting our freedom May 28, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:28 PM
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The annual Memorial Day parade proceeds along Central Avenue in historic downtown Faribault.

MY HUSBAND AND I TOOK in the annual Memorial Day parade in Faribault this morning. The parade, as it always does, featured military personnel and horses and old cars and marching bands and a fire truck and kids waving flags.

Flag-waving from an old pick-up truck during the parade.

Typically we sit in the same spot on a street corner so I am assured of a wide open view to photograph the event. But this year, attempting to gain a fresh, photographic perspective on the parade, we opted for another location.

Let’s just say that things did not work out too well for us at that spot.

I’m going to take the high road here, though, and not go into details which would publicly embarrass an individual who already embarrassed himself by shouting across the street at my husband. He later walked across the street and apologized to both of us.

As I ponder that incident, the one positive I can take from the experience is this:

We are blessed to live in a country where freedom of speech is protected.

I wasn’t, of course, thinking this at the time the angry words were fired toward us. But, in retrospect, it seems the appropriate thought to have on this day when we honor those who have fought for freedom.

Several military vehicles were in the parade along with color guards and honored veterans.

Checking out the candy scooped up during the parade.

The Scouts handed out flags to parade attendees like this little girl.

I upped the contrast on this image because I wanted to emphasis the beautiful blanket on that horse.

After the parade…

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Memorial Day: Greater love has no man (or woman)… May 25, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:16 AM
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A soldier statue at the Northfield Area Veterans Memorial at Riverside Lions Park in Northfield.

WAR. It is easy to distance ourselves, to forget. Out of sight, out of mind.

But when war becomes personal—when a close loved one is serving his/her country, then the perspective changes. War weaves into lives with threads of fear and uncertainty, with distraction and unease, with life lived always on the cusp of “when the soldier returns home.”

I’ve never lived that life in the present. But I have experienced it in the past, in the afterward of war. My father fought on the front line during the Korean War. Battle forever changed him. How could it not? If you killed someone close enough to see the whites of their eyes, how would you feel? Even if you understood the choice, kill or be killed?

My father, Elvern Kletscher, left, with two of his soldier buddies in Korea.

My dad lived with the demons of war—the nightmares, the flashbacks of buddies blown apart on the battlefield, the memories of hunger and cold and the digging into foxholes and a sniper picking off members of his platoon and mortar rounds winging toward him.

There is no glory in war or in violent death on the battlefield.

My dad carried home a July 31, 1953, memorial service bulletin from Sucham-dong, Korea. In the right column is listed the name of his fallen buddy, Raymond W. Scheibe.

Sonny Nealon, Ray’s best friend in high school, sent me this photo he took of his friend Ray’s gravestone. Ray was killed by a mortar round on June 2, 1953, the day before he was to leave Korea and return home to his wife and six-week-old daughter in Wollbach, Nebraska. My dad witnessed his buddy’s death.

On this Memorial Day weekend, let us remember, not war, but the men and women who served their country. Remember them as individuals—as sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, aunts and uncles…

Honor them. Respect them. Thank them for giving of themselves to preserve and protect our freedom.

Long-time Cannon City resident Bob respectfully removes his cowboy hat during the playing of taps at the 2011 Memorial Day service at the Cannon City Cemetery. If you want to experience a simple and moving program in a rural cemetery, attend this one at 2 p.m. Monday at Cannon City (near Faribault).

An in-ground marker honors my father, Elvern Kletscher, a Korean War veteran and recipient of the Purple Heart, for wounds he suffered at Heartbreak Ridge in Korea.

And if they are no longer living, like my dad, honor them by visiting their grave sites or a veterans’ memorial or by attending a Memorial Day service or parade. That is the very least we can do to express our gratitude.

An eagle at the new Veterans Memorial Park in Morristown. The memorial will be dedicated at 3 p.m. Saturday.

TO READ A STORY I wrote about my Dad’s service in Korea, click here. The story was published by Harvest House Publishers in 2005 in the book, God Answers Prayers: Military Edition, edited by Allison Bottke.

HOW WILL YOU HONOR veterans this Memorial Day?

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Color my world with flowers May 24, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:21 AM
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Tables packed with colorful flowers fill the Faribault Garden Center.

HOT PINK, royal purple, bold orange, golden yellow, pale peach…seemingly every imaginable hue blankets the greenhouse in a riotous patchwork quilt of blossoms.

I stand there. Blissful. Smiling. Taking it all in.

How can I possibly choose where to aim my camera first, which blossom to dip my nose into, which plant to admire?

Hot pink geraniums initially catch my eye.

It is impossible not to be happy in a place like this, to want to swoop up the old standby geraniums and petunias, to grab packets of dainty, sweet-smelling alyssum, to corral containers of impatiens onto a cart, to choose the crimson bloodroot plant, to want it all, to fill my yard with color and beauty.

A row of hanging baskets filled with begonias stretches across the greenhouse.

A Minnesota winter, albeit a mild one this year, does this to me. Not even the vibrant and bold polyester patchwork quilt that warms me from November to April is enough to satisfy my visual need for color. By May, my soul, my eyes, my very being yearns for nature to color my world.

A colorful King Kong coleus.

A snippet of the vibrant polyester patchwork quilt my paternal grandmother stitched for me so many seasons ago.

More vivid blooms…

The non-descript Faribault Garden Center, where I photographed all of these flowers.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Lovin’ Minnesota green May 18, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:34 AM
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After a recent hail storm, maple leaves littered my patio. The contrast of green against gray, nature against man-made, struck me. I increased the hue saturation in the green to show the details in the leaf and to create a more artsy image. BTW, as a teen, my bedroom was painted lime green, like this leaf.

GIVE ME GREEN. Not money, although I would accept that. But color.

Vibrant, 1970s hippy lime green.

Dark green as deep as the shadowed forest.

The earthy green of unfurling corn leaves poking through soil.

Mixed shades of green massed in a hillside of trees set against the brooding skies of a moody May evening in rural Minnesota.

I couldn’t take my eyes off this scene northeast of Medford on a recent Monday evening. The lines of light and dark broken by that mass of trees appealed to me visually. And the lighting, oh, the lighting. Perfect. This was shot while my husband and I were traveling along a county road.

Grass green slicing across a field.

The soft sage of dried herbs.

Any green will do.

TELL ME, WHAT hue holds your heart?

Along the same county road near Medford, this near-barren field, sliced by that line of green grass, caught my eye as did the foreboding sky and the light, oh, the luscious light of early evening.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling