Dancing my way to Henderson

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Yesterday I received an invitation to go dancing. The invite came from Jeff Hayden, co-owner of the Henderson House Bed and Breakfast in tiny Henderson, a quaint town along the Minnesota River south of the metro.

Unfortunately, I had to decline Jeff’s offer, but not before I added, "If only I could, Jeff." He knew, of course, that I had undergone recent hip replacement surgery and that he would be turned down. But I appreciated his humor.

Folks like Jeff are among the reasons why I love writing so much. I am always meeting and talking to interesting people, who often become friends. Such is the case with Jeff. My husband, Randy, and I first met Jeff a year ago, when we stopped in Henderson on our way back from a trip to visit my family in Redwood County. As we approached Henderson, we decided to tour the town rather than simply continue through on Minnesota Highway 19. We stopped at Jeff’s B & B on top of the hill overlooking this beautiful hamlet. I promised Jeff that Randy and I would return.

Several months later, Randy and I were back in Henderson for a little get-away. I would combine a writing assignment with some time alone with my husband. I fell in love with this scenic, historic town of 900. (Watch for a feature story and photos of Henderson in the September/October issue of Minnesota Moments.)

As a child, I had been to Henderson several times for the community’s annual Sauerkraut Days celebrations. Henderson was also on the route to visit relatives in the Cities. And my paternal great grandfather, Rudolph Kletscher, who immigrated to the U.S., arrived by train in Henderson with 50 cents in his pocket in 1890. So, deep down, a part of me already belonged to Henderson.

But back to Jeff. He made Randy and me feel right at home in his charming B & B. After a long day of interviewing locals and shooting pictures, I needed the quiet and comfort offered by his old brick home. Jeff and his friend Jackie, who joined us for the evening, were great conversationalists. I felt as if I had known both of them forever. That is part of Jeff’s gift as a host — the ability to make his guests feel welcome and right at home.

The next morning, Jeff had a surprise waiting for me in the dining room. He had asked the night before whether pancakes for breakfast would be OK. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I really don’t like pancakes (now you know, Jeff). But these were not the plain Jane pancakes that I dislike. These were ginger pancakes smothered with lemon sauce. They were delectable.

Jeff’s surprise came in chicken-shaped pancakes piled on my plate. I am not fond of chickens. I revealed that tidbit to Jeff while checking out the poultry he keeps in a backyard coop and pen. That Jeff would turn my revelation into a memorable moment of laughter at the breakfast table speaks volumes to his listening and hosting abilities.

Yesterday I promised Jeff that Randy and I would stop at his B & B the next time we drive through Henderson. I want to show off my new hip and maybe dance across the wooden floors of Jeff’s lovely old home.