B Jo Bennett. Author

Domrémy, Birthplace of Jeanne d’Arc

Jo Bennett — Thu, 01 May 2025 15:47:46 +0000

Domrémy, the birthplace of Jeanne d’Arc

Pin # 2

This pin is for Domrémy, the birthplace of Jeanne d’Arc, or as she is known in English, Joan of Arc.

Our family took a day trip to the birthplace and home of Joan of Arc, Domrémy, in northeastern France. I remember a basket full of baguettes on the bus for lunch and returning home with a glow-in-the-dark Joan of Arc statue. After the visit, I talked to the statue at night and put her under my pillow. I loved that statue and developed a love for this Maid d’Orléans from that play. And even at that young age, her story of hearing voices from God and burning at the stake left an impression.

I was surprised when, years later, two of my students wanted to write a report on her. From childhood memory, I had no idea this Maid was a heroine revered by young women today. She is admired for her bravery and audacity in getting access to help a future King of France and for taking it for granted that her visions were essential and authentic that, for a short, significant time, the right people believed her And believed in her mission.

While that statue was essential to me as a child, I now understand that she was crucial to helping France regain its independence. While some doubted her, thankfully for her, two soldiers believed her when she discussed her “vis” ons “e” piece” lly when she could describe a battle before it occurred. They took her to Charles, the disinherited rightful king of France. Charles was exiled from his country during the Hundred Years’ War in England.

She was dressed as a boy in armor and taken to Charles. She was only a teenager when she was sent, and he was a young man in his twenties. He also believed she was genuine when she shared visions about his inmost thoughts, which he only shared with God, or so my research revealed.

I had no idea that this pin on the Bavarian hat and this childhood memory was so important—historically and personally.

Joan of Arc led the French soldiers to victory against the odds and eventually escorted Charles to be inaugurated as King Charles VII in 1429 at Reims. This is what her visions told her needed to be done.

I have that a new movie will be made soon, adding to the several already made about this inspiring woman who had visions and, just as importantly, was believed. This is the part that intrigues me and satisfies me the most.

Domrémy: The birthplace of Joan of Arc.

Ratul — Thu, 01 May 2025 11:52:14 +0000

This pin is of Domrémy, the birthplace of Jeanne d’Arc, also known as Joan of Arc in English.

Our family took a day trip to the birthplace and home of Joan of Arc: Domrémy in northeastern France. I remember being impressed by the basket full of baguettes on the bus for our picnic lunch there and of my returning home with a glow-in-the-dark Joan of Arc statue. I talked to the statue at night and put her under my pillow. I loved that statue and developed a love for this Maid d’Orléans from that play.

I was surprised when, years later, two of my students wanted to write a report on her. I had no idea that this maid from a childhood memory was a heroine revered by young women today. She is admired for her bravery and audacity in helping to establish the future King of France, and I took for granted that her visions were important, but didn’t realize that her feats were common knowledge among some young women these days.

While that statue was important to me as a child, I now realize that it was also important to France. While some doubted her, thankfully, two soldiers believed her when she discussed her “visions,” especially when she could describe a battle before it had occurred. They took her to Charles, the disinherited rightful king of France during the Hundred Years’ War with England. Charles was exiled in his own country.

She was dressed as a boy in armor and taken to the future king– she was a teenager, and he was a young man in his twenties. He also believed she was genuine when she shared visions about his inmost thoughts, which he only shared with God, or so I found in my research.

I had no idea that this pin on the Bavarian hat and this childhood memory was so important—both historically and personally.

I’ve also learned that a new movie will be made soon, adding to the several already made about this inspiring woman who had visions and, just as importantly, was believed. This is the part that intrigues me.

Sadly, after helping Charles become king, she was put through a sham trial and burned at the stake in Rouen in 1431. Charles exonerated her after her death, and she was canonized by Pope Benedict XV in 1920.

I had no idea this iconic young woman, whom I remembered as a glow-in-the-dark statue, had a following.

I checked if there were any glow-in-the-dark statues online; I did not find any, but I did find other kinds of statues available, perhaps more fitting for me now.

The Bavarian Hat. The first pin: Roma

Jo Bennett — Tue, 01 Apr 2025 17:04:45 +0000

The pin from Rome (Roma) is at the top of the hat – because, at one time, all roads lead to Rome. It was the center of the universe for much of the ancient Western world. Some of the memories I have of Rome include standing at the bottom of the steps of the Trevi Fountain. Vendors set up shop, sitting on the sides of the steps, and tourists walked up and down the middle. Did it seem like steps because I was small? My memories blend with movies I’ve seen and may not be completely reliable about the facts. We threw coins and made wishes. I do remember that!

I also associate this pin with the Coliseum. We walked between the fountain and the Coliseum and looked down on it. We must have been on a hill. I was five and six when we collected the pins for this hat, so, indeed, some details are vague. But still, others are vivid: I can hear the water splashing from the fountain and still see the statues of the horses.

For me, this mosaic pin represents Rome. I remember someone asking me when I was in 3rd grade, which part of Europe I liked the most, and I answered Rome, Italy. Who’s to say that early experiences don’t matter or that children are too young to be affected by what they see? Some of the memories of the pins are as fresh as yesterday. Yesterday, becoming today.

Bavarian Hat Blog

The first pin: Roma

Bluebonnets!

Ratul — Tue, 01 Apr 2025 12:00:44 +0000

Why do we love bluebonnets so much? Maybe it’s because they are so delicate and so many other images or symbols of Texas and Texas are so tough. The cactus. The rattlesnake. A boot. The heat.

I have named my cars Bluebonnet. I’ve made greeting cards with the bluebonnet. I have collected bluebonnet pins. Earrings. Did I mention bluebonnet coffee cups?

It’s hard to say why I love the bluebonnet so much!

San Francisco Fog

Jo Bennett — Sat, 01 Mar 2025 17:49:17 +0000

From the Second Verse collection:

I worked as a temp in a building that overlooked Alcatraz Island in one direction and, in the other, a tall building with the name Empress of China on the rooftop in the financial district of San Francisco. I wrote this poem at the end of my work with the financial firm about my temporary hold on the view.

It turns out this rooftop garden restaurant also had a temporary view of the view of the scene. It closed in 2014 but re-opened as Empress by Boon in 2021.

San Francisco Fog

She came today,

wrapping herself around

the Empress of China,

walling from view Coit Tower

and Alcatraz.

She wove her threads about the

hooded sisters who grace

the Kearny Street Building

like a halo,

pressing the black and shiny panes

with the weight of her airy sadness.

This fog, this San Francisco fog.

The noonday sun

burns through her hold of land.

The bay, more volatile

allows her still a place.

At two, that blue and moody face,

it too, comes free, azure

once more against

the steepled church façade.

A red boat pushes

toward the open waterway,

there between the twin cathedral peaks

like Charon’s sacred passage home.

We watch this view.

This view too brief to hold.

My Class Picture

Ratul — Sat, 01 Mar 2025 11:38:39 +0000

My class picture from the time we lived there shows students who are from distinctly German backgrounds and others from distinctly French heritage. One young man looks like he might be Moroccan, but I’m not sure. If you can’t figure out where I am in the picture, I’ll take that as a compliment. Look for me with long blonde hair and blunt bangs, so different from the other children. I am a little taller than the other students. Perhaps I was a year older than my classmates? I don’t know. But, ironically, my teacher placed me right in the middle of the class. Find me now? The memories of being the only American in a French-speaking classroom left an indelible impression on me.

Map of Europe

Ratul — Sat, 01 Feb 2025 11:35:32 +0000

This is a map of Europe that can be used to show the locations we visited as children. We lived in France, in the Alsace-Lorraine area, which has moved between France and Germany throughout the history that these two countries have shared. It was an area that became the roadway during major wars.

The map will document where we drove in an old ’51 Ford and then in a ’57 Mercedes. We took road trips organized by our parents to museums, cathedrals, WWI & II cemeteries, battlefields, and castles. My mother always packed a food suitcase, and we often ate in old, empty houses that dotted the countryside if we found one. The buildings were strategically placed to store ammunition in WWII. I remember one along the Mediterranean where the wind blew so hard, we couldn’t even talk against it. These structures were not just for storage. I think they were also used for cover in battle.

Because I saw former battle fields and cemeteries from WWI and II as a child, remember cathedrals with scaffolding and in states of repair, and grew up in a family where Dag Hammarskjöld, the second secretary-general of the United Nations, was a household word, I become emotional about the War in Ukraine or when harsh words are spoken about NATO, as though the collective past can somehow be forgotten or erased. I feel the pain of a country at war in ways I cannot describe. Was it all of the cemeteries we saw? All of the sites of battles in the past? I don’t know, but I wish we could understand how a child’s education begins at a very young age. These hats can serve as a reference point for the pins, and by the end, I’ll note the sites discussed on the map.

These early memories have left a lasting impression.

Dear Muse

Ratul — Sat, 01 Feb 2025 06:03:07 +0000

“If this is an escape,
let the world we create
be a fantastical world,
a relief from shadowed life.”

The key you held,
unlocked a hidden door,
and what emerged
was not stale or putrid,
but fresh
in that light.

I have cleared a space.
I have cleared a space
where the whispering
of your voice,
the spark penetrating light
of your eyes
can cleanse.
Where your velvet touch,
your jasmined breath
can heal.
Let me soul take flight.

In my dreams,
I meet you
and from dreams
I grow.
No ordinary life for you
my muse.

Your hear, full
and open,
is my focal point.
Like an antenna,
holding the direction –
this dream –
holding the place solid.

Pivot of my life,
spellbinding embrace.
Your heart, open,
found me.

My dream,
not judged
but listened to
with a light continuance.
The idea poised –
materializing
at any moment,
inspired.

I call you, muse
and each time,
in no time,
a flood of fresh
sustaining milk.
A lightness,
but also
nothing,
nothing at all.
Sometimes,
I block the flood of light
while begging for more.

You receive
and give back
a cleansed purity –transforming the dross
with your voice.

This trembling love –
I reach out
and touch the moist air
or go within.
The warmth
pulls me to that point.

Sometimes I
feel you
in the air
like an echo
in my ear.
Your voice,
warm, smiling.
Walking beside me.
Walking inside.
vibrating.
Close.

The birds begin their song
outside my window.
A dark stillness
alive with
one bird,
many birds.
Steady, rich-throated.
Some higher, some lower.
An owl hoots,
receives an answer.
A symphony.
Delight.

My voice,
before under careful lock
without key,
soars.

Like a delicate crane,
you lifted out the crystals
lodged deep.
The beauty of what
once lay rough and buried,
honed against your shaping stone
surfaces polished,
smoothed.

Three views of a Bavarian hat

Ratul — Wed, 01 Jan 2025 11:19:13 +0000

I had three sisters, and we each had a Bavarian hat with pins that recorded our travels in Europe. This is the hat from one of my sisters, since her hat is better preserved than mine. Some of her pins are from her own time when she lived in Germany. These pins will be reviewed one by one as I recall or investigate the location. There are a few, I must admit, that I have to look up, as this travel is from the mid-1950s! That said, many of these pins bring out a memory or experience that is seared in my memory. Early childhood experiences can have a profound impact on a person.

The charms or pins will be selected in random order. That said, I did start with the pin from Rome. How many times did our father say, “All roads led to Rome?”

On Climbing Mt. McKinley

Jo Bennett — Tue, 31 Dec 2024 18:24:04 +0000

On Climbing Mt. McKinley

from the Second Verse Collection (Barbara McKinley)

The tape I made,

my inner voice,

became my companion.

. . . An important part of my continuing.

Put your foot here . . . keep yourself moving . . .

Don’t sit down . . . Keep yourself going . . .

Step by step,

I take the mountain.

I relax.

I make myself ready.

Always alert.

I watch. I wait.

I know when the storm will blow

and work as a team,

with my voice,

toward the goal.

When I reach the summit,

once on the summit,

I feel—not joy.

Not a jumping-up-and-down-feeling,

but a quiet peace and calm.

A place of no color.

No wind. Air.Blankk and silent.

On returning, once more

To the green and color.

Extremely felt and

observed.

Air pushes against my movements.

I resist. I move through air as a

vessel moves in water.

And I hear sounds

other than the voice

in my head and

the wind.

In the end, the feat wasn’t

technically so challenging

or difficult,

as a matter of willpower.

And on returning, I work to keep

the summit ever ahead.

Never finished.

. . . keeping the silence within

while moving midst

color, pressure, and sound.

I wrote this poem from listening to a climber describe how he managed to complete his goal of climbing Mt. McKinley. I listened intently since I had been aware of my name, McKinley, all of my life and felt it had significance. Interestingly, not long after hearing the interview of this mountaineer, the mountain in Alaska was officially renamed by the federal government as Denali, meaning the “high one,” named long ago by the Koyukon, the people of Alaska who settled in the interior area north of the mountain.

Our goals may change or take on different names, but the drive remains