In the elementary school I attended as a little boy of seven or eight the subject of France was presented to us and mention was made of a few of their notables. Joan of Arc and a little of her story was given to us.
I thought it interesting that my family name was very similar to hers and perhaps for that reason imagined that she was a distant relative. I read the little things that were available about her in our school library.
It must have been a Saturday afternoon during this period of childhood that I saw TV documentary about her. During the broadcast, a man, another student of her life, made this statement: "contemporaneous reports by several people very close to her state that: she would cup her ears with her hands in order to catch and tune the sound of the ringing church bells while she prayed."
The days came and went and I grew from boy to man and moved on with the business of living.
A time came for me to go on unpaid Sabbatical in order to adjust my frame of mind for bigger and better things. During this time I read some more and listened to sounds, sermons, and music in an attempt to communicate with "higher love".
The prognosticator of one of the sermons I dove into stated that he thought it would be possible to recreate the personal experience Joan of Arc had in the context of prayer and bell tones. And I read some more.
When the next chasm needed to be surmounted, I went back to the well and read more on Joan of Arc.
Being educated in America, and though I had read five or seven well respected books about her, including, *Joan of Arc in her own Words*, it was purely by accident that I came upon Mark Twain's favorite and self selected best work: *Joan of Arc, A Personal Recollection*.
The other day on Twitter I saw a young woman talk about the current disaster and how her brave four year old son gave his life defending her.
I have had Mark Twain’s book for seventeen years. I have read most of it. Just two chapters remain. It is time I man up and read them too.
In the elementary school I attended as a little boy of seven or eight the subject of France was presented to us and mention was made of a few of their notables. Joan of Arc and a little of her story was given to us.
I thought it interesting that my family name was very similar to hers and perhaps for that reason imagined that she was a distant relative. I read the little things that were available about her in our school library.
It must have been a Saturday afternoon during this period of childhood that I saw TV documentary about her. During the broadcast, a man, another student of her life, made this statement: "contemporaneous reports by several people very close to her state that: she would cup her ears with her hands in order to catch and tune the sound of the ringing church bells while she prayed."
The days came and went and I grew from boy to man and moved on with the business of living.
A time came for me to go on unpaid Sabbatical in order to adjust my frame of mind for bigger and better things. During this time I read some more and listened to sounds, sermons, and music in an attempt to communicate with "higher love".
The prognosticator of one of the sermons I dove into stated that he thought it would be possible to recreate the personal experience Joan of Arc had in the context of prayer and bell tones. And I read some more.
When the next chasm needed to be surmounted, I went back to the well and read more on Joan of Arc.
Being educated in America, and though I had read five or seven well respected books about her, including, *Joan of Arc in her own Words*, it was purely by accident that I came upon Mark Twain's favorite and self selected best work: *Joan of Arc, A Personal Recollection*.
The other day on Twitter I saw a young woman talk about the current disaster and how her brave four year old son gave his life defending her.
I have had Mark Twain’s book for seventeen years. I have read most of it. Just two chapters remain. It is time I man up and read them too.