Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Conversation hearts February 14, 2023

Not candy conversation hearts…but a collection of my mom’s vintage valentines which can also be conversation starters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

CANDY HEARTS. I’ve never liked their chalky texture and taste. But these hard pastel candies are as much a part of Valentine’s Day history as valentines, red roses and chocolates. And they are a starting point for conversations: Be mine. Hugs. Love.

What exactly is love? It’s not a word completely defined without context. Yet, there is a basic understanding of romantic love, of love within a family, of love between friends. But what about the everyday love that we can express in words, especially towards those not in our friends and family circles?

Let me explain as I reflect on several conversations with strangers over the weekend. There’s nothing particularly dynamic about these brief encounters. Still, they are worth noting given each exchange reaffirms the importance of connecting with others as we go about our daily lives, sort of like handing out candy conversation hearts. I should note that I am comfortable initiating conversations with people I don’t know, if it feels right.

(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

HEART HAPPY

So there I was, in the check-out lane at a local grocery store when I noticed the man behind me with a shopping cart full of healthy foods. (Yes, I do notice what others are buying.) “You eat oatmeal, too,” I said, nodding toward the two cylinders of old-fashioned rolled oats standing side by side in his cart.

“Ever since I had my heart attack 13 years ago,” he said.

While I don’t remember my exact rambling reply, it went something like this: “Oatmeal’s supposed to be good for your cholesterol and the first time I ate it I thought I can’t do this every morning and then I added fruit…”

“Lots of fruit,” he qualified, when my run-on sentence ended. We fully agreed on the need for lots of fruit.

“Good for you that you’re eating healthy.” And then I wanted to tell him about how my father-in-law hated oatmeal and stuffed it in his pockets at Catholic boarding school in North Dakota but then I ran out of time because my groceries were being scanned and I had to move on, minus any old-fashioned oats in my cart.

Heart-shaped cut-out cookies I baked on a previous Valentine’s Day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

HOMEMADE SWEETNESS

That same morning, I popped into the post office to mail homemade M & M cookies to my son in Indiana. He’d celebrated his birthday only days prior and I’d failed. I failed to mail him a box of goodies. He obviously expected one. The day before his birthday, Caleb texted to ask if he should be expecting a package. Uh, no. My mom guilt kicked in big time and the next morning I was in my kitchen baking cookies.

Waiting in line at the post office, I wondered how long it would take those sweets to arrive in Lafayette. I once shipped homemade cookies that somehow ended up in Montana, arriving 10 days later in Indiana. So you can understand my apprehension. As I stepped up to the window, the postal clerk asked the usual “anything liquid, hazardous, perishable…?

“Are cookies considered perishable?”

I expected the usual no, but instead got a yes. The clerk clarified by asking if I baked the cookies. When I confirmed I had, she advised me to touch “yes” on the screen, further clarifying that this didn’t mean the cookies would arrive any earlier or that they wouldn’t be diverted to Montana. But I am happy to report the package arrived in Lafayette on Monday, unbelievably fast. I appreciated that the postal clerk appreciated that homemade cookies lack preservatives and are, indeed, perishable or at least capable of going stale. I have to think that conversation with her factored into the swift delivery.

Red roses from my husband for a previous celebration. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

LIKE GETTING A DOZEN ROSES

On to another grocery store, once again waiting in line, this time on a price check for the customer ahead of me. I decided to guess the price of the mixed bouquet of wrapped flowers he held. “I’d pay $7.99 for them,” I said. “But they’re probably lots more because of Valentine’s Day.” I was way off. They were nearly $17.

“You should have guessed higher,” he said.

“Whoever they’re for, she’ll appreciate them.” The cashier concurred.

“They’re for my daughter, for her dance recital.”

That simply made me smile in the sort of way that filled my spirit with happiness and joy. The love of a father for his daughter. Had I not initiated a conversation, I never would have experienced this everyday, love-filled dozen roses moment.

A fused glass heart created by Northfield artist Geralyn Thelen for the “Spreading the Love” sculpture, public art installed in downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

SUNSHINE ON MY SATURDAY

As I moved ahead, waiting for a teenager to bag my groceries, I noted her long hair cascading in ringlets. “I love your hair. It’s beautiful. How do you get it to curl like that?”

She explained how she rolls curlers into her hair and sleeps in them overnight. Her wide smile revealed to me just how much she appreciated my sincere compliment. As she pushed my shopping cart across the grocery store parking lot toward the van, this bubbly young woman commented on the sunny day and asked how mine was going. Her very being radiated warmth like the February sunshine. It was as if we were exchanging conversation hearts when she wished me a wonderful day and I reciprocated.

Life is filled with opportunities like this. Maybe not to talk about oatmeal or cookies or flowers or curly hair or sunny mornings. But to interact, to connect, to show others that we value them, that they matter to us in the everyday moments of our lives.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Valentine’s Day: Of conversation hearts, sparkly sugar & a whole lot of love February 14, 2022

Vintage valentines from my mom’s collection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

AT THE RISK of sounding old, which, by the way, I sort of am, I remember Valentine’s Day back-in-the-day, meaning the 1960s.

I remember bringing a shoebox to Vesta Elementary School, covering the box with white paper, cutting a slit in the lid (the teacher helped) and then pasting red construction paper hearts onto the wrapped box. Whew, that was one long sentence. If I didn’t have a shoebox, I crafted a mega envelope from white paper, decorated it with paper hearts and then taped the valentine holder onto the edge of my desk. Either way, I had a vessel to hold valentines.

I carefully picked the valentines I gave to each classmate. This is from my mom’s collection. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)

On the day of our Valentine’s party, I arrived at school with cards carefully chosen for each classmate. These were not Disney-themed valentines pulled from a box, but rather generic, often flowery, cards punched from an over-sized book. It took effort to remove those cards. But it took even more effort to choose just the right one for each classmate.

An “I love you” valentine heart crafted for me by one of my children (I think my son) in elementary school. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)

Words mattered to me even back then. I didn’t want anyone, especially the boys, to misinterpret messages printed on a valentine. That applied to those chalky candy conversation hearts also. There would be no “Be mine” or “True love” for boys I found disgusting. And, no, I did not gift an entire box of those hearts to anyone. I came from a poor farm family. Several candy hearts tucked inside an envelope or a single stick of Juicy Fruit gum taped to a card was the treat limit.

Stencils and colored paper for crafting cards. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

Those sweet memories of Valentine’s days past remain. But now I’m making new memories. With my grandchildren. On a recent Saturday morning I baked carrot cupcakes, mixed up a batch of cream cheese frosting, gathered construction paper, stencils and foam hearts, and checked valentine-themed books out from the library. Randy and I were headed to see the grandkids and I had projects planned.

Isaac in non-stop motion racing his truck. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

But first we played, the kids racing over-sized vehicles across the floor, round and round the table and through the house with the expectation that Grandma would do the same and I did for awhile with a toy airplane, which conveniently took flight. But then I needed a break. A break meant decorating those healthy cupcakes I baked, the healthy being the 1 ½ cups of shredded carrots (never mind the cup of sugar in the batter and then an additional cup in the homemade frosting).

Isaac with one of the cupcakes he frosted and sprinkled. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
Heart-shaped toppings for the cupcakes from my daughter’s stash. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
The cupcake in the center is minus about half the sugar Isaac dumped onto it. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)
Wiping crumbs and frosting from Isaac’s face. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

Frosting and decorating cupcakes hold universal appeal for kids. Grandpa and I tag teamed with him assigned to 3-year-old Isaac and me to 5-year-old Isabelle. All went seemingly well with the usual admonition not to lick the knife, then wash the knife and repeat. But then I handed a slim bottle of sparkly pink sugar to Isaac, who tipped the bottle, and, well, you can guess what happened. He dumped enough sugar atop that single cupcake to decorate a dozen. What could we do except laugh, dump most of the sugar off and continue on. Eventually the cupcakes were all decorated and one each eaten.

We played with Owlette and Catboy from the Disney Junior show “PJ Masks.” I had no clue who these characters were prior to playtime. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

We took a break for more play, this time climbing up Mystery Mountain (stairs) to the Splat Volcano (Isaac’s room), where I got my feet stuck in splat, not to be confused with lava. The kids pulled me free. Good thing because there were valentines to craft. Except we never got to the valentines. I thought it more important for the siblings to create birthday cards for their mom, whose birthday is shortly before Valentine’s Day.

I brought a bag plumped with foam heart stickers for the grandkids to use in creating cards. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

Again, I supervised Izzy while Randy helped Isaac. I got the easy job as Isabelle is a kindergartner, meaning she can sit quietly and create, managing a pencil and markers and stencils just fine, thank you. She finished her mom’s birthday card long before her brother. Isaac was quite taken with the foam heart stickers I brought. Hearts in hues of pink and purple. He’d stick one on the orange construction paper folded into a card and then stick on another. And another. And another. No valentines were ever made. But if foam hearts can convey love, then my daughter Amber ought to know her son loves her lots.

Stickers galore decorate the birthday card Isaac made for his mom. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2022)

So these are my latest Valentine’s Day memories. Not of candy conversation hearts or heart-covered shoeboxes or fixating on valentine choices, but rather memories of time with my beloved grandchildren. Such sweetness in those love-filled moments…

#

TELL ME: I’d like to hear your Valentine’s Day stories, past and/or present.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling