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View Susan Bennet's profile
In one of life’s ironies we moved to an even nicer part of town when my father fell ill. Our new house, set on a hill, had an enormous backyard and an adjoining wood lot wildly overgrown with flowering shrubs, abandoned rock gardens and a crumbling stone wall. One side was steeply graded and seemed…
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Each child was my child.
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I imagined his job consisted mainly of dealing with The Bucking Bronco Boys
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Yes, I've chatted with the great beyond.
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One day murder came to town
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A lesson was learned on Dover Street
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In the late sixties I was drawn to a song by British composer Leslie Bricusse, “When I Look in Your Eyes.” The music was haunting, the lyrics discomforting. They spoke of a depth of feeling and life experience I did not have. Sometimes now I’ll hear teens debate the “best” eye color—hazel? blue? green? brown?—or…
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This is not my story. It is the story of my friend and longtime neighbor, “L”. Last year L approached me to ask for my help in documenting her story of escape and struggle. A refugee’s story. In 1959, at age nine, L and her parents fled Castro’s Cuba. It is a story I never…
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Of brothers and a war
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My uncle was an old-school, small-town newspaperman.
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I would never have believed it -- and maybe I should have.
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Sometimes the prize you seek is not the prize at all.
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In September 2001 I lived in a country setting below converging flight paths into Boston. On the twelfth I went out to lie in the high grass, to scan the clear sky and to think. The emptiness. The silence. The peace. For this brief moment, the frenetic world I knew had stopped spinning—it was a…
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That sixties summer, George loved his car and I loved George.
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Long before Mr. Rogers, there was Ding Dong School.
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Enchanted
Prompted By Favorite Fairy Tale
/ Stories
In one of life’s ironies we moved to an even nicer part of town when my father fell ill. Our new house, set on a hill, had an enormous backyard and an adjoining wood lot wildly overgrown with flowering shrubs, abandoned rock gardens and a crumbling stone wall. One side was steeply graded and seemed…
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True Tales of a College Admissions Interviewer
Prompted By Interviews
/ Stories
Each child was my child.
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On Principal
Prompted By Favorite Teacher
/ Stories
I imagined his job consisted mainly of dealing with The Bucking Bronco Boys
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Miss Stanhope was my Miss Chips.
Mediums: Well Done and Rare
Prompted By The Great Beyond
/ Stories
Yes, I've chatted with the great beyond.
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Regular pruning is advised
The Boston Strangler & Me
Prompted By Broadcast News
/ Stories
One day murder came to town
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Your mother is wonderful
Song For My Father
Prompted By What My Father Told Me
/ Stories
A lesson was learned on Dover Street
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It's never too late to be Great.
When I Look in Your Eyes
Prompted By The Eyes Have It
/ Stories
In the late sixties I was drawn to a song by British composer Leslie Bricusse, “When I Look in Your Eyes.” The music was haunting, the lyrics discomforting. They spoke of a depth of feeling and life experience I did not have. Sometimes now I’ll hear teens debate the “best” eye color—hazel? blue? green? brown?—or…
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A Farewell to Paradise
Prompted By Refugees
/ Stories
This is not my story. It is the story of my friend and longtime neighbor, “L”. Last year L approached me to ask for my help in documenting her story of escape and struggle. A refugee’s story. In 1959, at age nine, L and her parents fled Castro’s Cuba. It is a story I never…
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Galveston, oh Galveston
Prompted By One Song That Moves Me
/ Stories
Of brothers and a war
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A Times to Remember
Prompted By Newspapers
/ Stories
My uncle was an old-school, small-town newspaperman.
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When Grandmother Ran for Governor
Prompted By Grandparents & Grandchildren
/ Stories
I would never have believed it -- and maybe I should have.
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Give Me a “D”
Prompted By In the Band
/ Stories
Sometimes the prize you seek is not the prize at all.
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Peace be with you
Prompted By 9/11 Twenty Years Later
/ Stories
In September 2001 I lived in a country setting below converging flight paths into Boston. On the twelfth I went out to lie in the high grass, to scan the clear sky and to think. The emptiness. The silence. The peace. For this brief moment, the frenetic world I knew had stopped spinning—it was a…
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Our town was a very very very fine town
Would you like to swing on a star?
Crushed it!
Prompted By The Crush
/ Stories
That sixties summer, George loved his car and I loved George.
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Miss Frances
Prompted By Children's TV Shows
/ Stories
Long before Mr. Rogers, there was Ding Dong School.
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