An American Story 'Going My Way' 'Father O'Malley' Put a Human Face on Immigrants
'Going My Way' transformed the popular image of Irish Americans and turned the Catholic priest in to a popular hero.
In our time, when President John Fitzgerald Kennedy is considered one of our nation’s foremost leaders, it is hard to imagine that in the years leading up to World War II he might not even have been electable. Prior to Kennedy, Al Smith, four time governor of New York, had attempted a Presidential bid in 1928. Though he had a strong resume as a reformer he lost. He was the first Roman Catholic to run for the office and his defeat was largely due to the prejudices of the day. Bing Crosby would use film as a means to give his fellow Irishmen a human face. His Father O’Malley character showed Americans the true face of urban priests who often worked to win over tough youths and dealt practically with many inner city issues.
A personal reflection on why we shouldn’t abandon the faith that has nourished Western civilization by Andrew Klavan. (read more)
AWest whose ethicists coolly contemplate infantile euthanasia, whose nations roll back their magnificent jurisprudence to make room for the atrocity of sharia, whose historians argue themselves out of the objective reality of human rights because they have lost faith in the numinous basis of those rights—such a West may not be heading for disaster as much as it is living in the midst of one, a comfortable and prosperous disaster to which our default atheism makes us blind, a dystopia in which we are increasingly happy and increasingly savage at the same time.”
Bee On Dogwood Blossom. Photo by Sandra Barlow Powell.
Survivors,” Ben-Gurion repeated thoughtfully. “How should we reach them?”
Indeed the presence of survivors presented an obligation to those who pondered it. Simply doing nothing seemed immoral at best but what to do seemed not so cut and dried. An unmanned landing might be best as there would be the ability to send a message without risking more lives. The initial lander could be configured to take back survivors if necessary. “How fast could we prepare a lander mission?” Hannah asked. Theoretically it could be ‘pulled from the shelf’ and launched within the month. It would take nine months to get to Mars. In the event it were necessary, Great Northern could be taken from its defense position and flown with additional landers to evacuate more people.
What if they don’t want to come ‘home?’” Abiyah asked. “Should we be prepared to resupply them?”
That is a good question.” said Hannah. “Since our last contact was aggressive on the colonist’s part, we need to think about this.”
Some of Cape Lisbon Space Center’s best minds were brought to bear to hash out the proper thing to do. There at Cape Lisbon’s linear induction launch canon, they called themselves the “Baltimore Gun Club,” since their device seemed similar to the one Jules Verne first wrote about in From the Earth to the Moon.
It was not a columbiad, as Verne predicted, but rather a linear induction track similar to the high speed transportation system being built to link the world via vacuum tubes. Massive use of fossil fuels was now replaced by electromagnetism. That electromagnetism was produced by tapping the geothermal energy of the earth itself. It was clean, efficient, did nothing to harm the environment and it was cheap!
Some sections of HYPERLOOP between large cities were already in operation and the entire system was going to open by 2059. It was going to usher in new economy in world transportation. The launch canon used the same electromagnetic propulsion as well and it presented the most economical means of sending a craft to Mars.
In the end, a hastily prepared lander was dispatched and flown remotely to the planet’s surface. A ‘rover’ was on board to move about and survey the colony. A message was composed to offer the surviving colonists an olive branch and a radio/video communication device was included. The ‘rover’ carried standard pressure suits and breathing packs. Every effort was made to offer the survivors a remotely piloted ‘ride home.’ The biggest problem was that they had to guess how many there might be.
The unmanned emissary was launched within the month. For nine months the controllers in Cape Lisbon and on SS/AC005 waited.
__________
The lander fired it’s descent engine and arced down to the Martian surface. The engine slowed it as it touched down next to the remains of the Martian colony. The rover was deployed and began its survey of the colony. It approached a door on one of the greenhouses and showed the controllers on Earth a lot of space-booted footprints coming in and out. The rover reduced power and waited.
Discovery was not long in coming. Two figures in space suits emerged from the greenhouse door and seemed to be in quite animated hand-gesture concerning the new ‘visitor.’ In the end they pulled the rover into a bay with a tractor for further examination. The bay was pressurized and the two figures removed their helmets, examining the rover further. They read the message of peace and discovered the camera/radio.
They said nothing loud enough to be heard, however and eventually one of them disappeared for a time. He returned with a third man who deliberately positioned himself in front of the camera and activated the communication device. Controllers on Earth held their breath as he began to speak.
Dr. Paul Tyson’s lecture explored how the Christian responsibility “to repent” involves more than expressing feelings of regret for moral wrong-doing and the desire to reform. Rather, the New Testament call to “repentance,” the English rendition of the Greek word metanoia, is inseparable from radically reenvisioning what is “really real.” St. Paul’s admonition that we be “transformed by the renewing of our minds” — in other words, metanoia — invokes a process that demands the recognition and rejection of various false enchantments of this world. With the help of C. S. Lewis’s story The Silver Chair, however, we realize that identifying and then escaping the ways in which we are bewitched is no easy task. (read more)
Many contemporary discussions that make reference to creation are framed in light of assumed conflicts between science and religion and are frequently concerned with giving an account of the earth’s origins. But is talking about origins synonymous with what the church fathers meant by the act of creation? Does providing scientifically plausible accounts of how the earth began or pointing to staggering probabilities as evidence for intelligent design provide an adequate understanding of the relationship between God and creation? Do we as modern Christians truly understand what the church fathers meant by “nothing” in the phrase creation ex nihilo? (read more)
What I am calling ‘imaginative apologetics’ renews our mind. It begins when we ourselves stand apart from ourselves and receive our faith freshly, as if gifted to us for the first time, and when we use the difference of our religious culture to provoke the secularized person. So much of our missiology tells us to do the opposite — to give the people the familiar . . . to conform to contemporary modes . . . I’m suggesting the opposite: that we make our faith truly strange, first to ourselves and then to those we hope to attract. If someone lives a buffered existence within the fortress of materialism we have to help them question those limits to experience and the real, so that we may show them Christ in his true depth and beauty and strangeness.”
— Alison Milbank
This spring, theologian Alison Milbank presented the fifth Areopagus Lecture. In her talk “Imaginative Apologetics beyond C. S. Lewis,” Milbank offered an approach to defending the Christian faith that restores the imagination as a faculty inseparable from reason. By using C. S. Lewis as a conversation partner — along with Owen Barfield, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, G. K. Chesterton, and Novalis — Milbank explored how the imagination is not just an instrumental means to an objective end, but the ecstatic and receptive means by which we participate in what is True and Real. (read more)
Desiring Heaven
There have been times when I think we do not desire Heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else. You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw—but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of—something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat’s side?”
— C. S. Lewis, The Problem with Pain
As fire roared through the 800 year old “Forest,” the oak timbered roof structure of Notre Dame de Paris, many of us were moved to tears. Firefighters fought valiantly but regretfully admitted that they of themselves could not save the venerable cathedral. Helplessly we watched. Helplessly they fought on. Morning revealed that the ancient oak timbers and the lead roof were gone. The spire had collapsed into the intersection of nave and narthex, leaving a gaping hole in the limestone vaulting. Several more holes had been made in the vault by collapsing timbers. It was indeed a sad sight.
The morning also revealed that the great rose windows had survived with minimal damage. The great pipe organ survived, as did the Pieta and Cross at the Altar! We rejoiced. What had we lost? What had miraculously been saved? It was a flood of emotions. What does Notre Dame mean to us?
Paul Claudel.
French President Emmanuel Macron vowed to rebuild the Cathedral in an ambitious five years. Secular and Spiritual voices unite in the call to rebuild. So, what exactly is the importance of this Cathedral to the human story? Well, historians will point out that it represents a time when Western Culture, guided by Faith, created order out of the chaos following the demise of the great Roman State. The architecture, aspiring toward the transcendent, lifts the spirit! But then there are the personal recollections. In the transept of the great cathedral, just to the right of the nave near the Southern rose window is a plaque commemorating the conversion of French poet, playwright and diplomat Paul Claudel. Claudel’s life spans 1868 to 1955 and his early years were like that of so many young people today. He was a nonbeliever. He was not particularly motivated by spiritual things.
On Christmas Day in 1886, at the age of eighteen, young Paul attended the High Mass at the cathedral. He recalls that he was not particularly moved as the new archbishop celebrated the liturgy. But something prompted Claudel to return to the cathedral for evening vespers. “It was the gloomiest Winter day, and the darkest rainy afternoon over Paris.” As the Magnificat was sung, something happened in the young man’s heart: “In an instant, my heart was touched and I believed with such a strength of adherence, with such an uplifting of my entire being, with such powerful conviction, with such a certainty leaving no room for any kind of doubt, that since then all the books, all thee arguments, all the incidents and accidents of a busy life have been unable to shake my faith, nor indeed to affect it in any way.”
Jean-Marie Lustiger.
Then there is the story of Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger. He was born in Paris in 1926. His Polish Jewish parents were merchants who owned a store on the West Bank. During the Shoah, in which his mother died, young Jean Marie was taken in by a Christian family. He discovered a Bible in the home of his piano teacher – reading the familiar Torah, but going further into the New Testament story as well. At age 14, he visited the Cathedral in Orléans on Holy Thursday. Moved by the rich symbolism of the liturgy and the great cathedral, he returned on Good Friday and announced his intent to join the church. He would later study for the priesthood and eventually become Bishop of Paris, officiating over evening Mass in the great cathedral of Notre Dame! As a young seminarian, Bishop Robert Barron of Los Angeles studied in Paris and would often attend the Mass that Cardinal Lustiger officiated at. Lustiger would deliver energetic homilies – twenty minutes was a short one. Barron would often stand at the spot where Paul Claudel was converted, looking up at the North Transept Rose Window, which many consider to be the most beautiful of all the rose windows.
Robert Barron speaks of the powerful testimony of such a beautiful work – formed by now unknown craftsmen in worship to the Divine – that performed in him an “Alchemy of the Soul.”
We don’t build buildings like that today. Many of us worship in metal buildings driven by an economy prescribed by “good stewardship.” Some will argue that we should forgo rebuilding great cathedrals because the money can be better used elsewhere. To them I would simply say that this is not an either/or proposition. We should do both. Even the barest metal building church invests in “Worship” but it is usually just instruments for the worship band. All of us in some sense can identify with that moment in Matthew 26:7 when a woman anointed Jesus’ feet with precious perfume. There is beauty that springs from the proclamation of the Gospel. Notre Dame de Paris is indeed such a beauty. The testimonies of Barron, Lustiger and Claudel bear witness to it.
Faith and Beauty
Images that Lead to Worship and Relationship with God
North Rose Window, Notre Dame de Paris.
North Rose Window, Notre Dame de Paris.
Sound Sculpture, Xaver Wilhelmy's design for functional glass organ pipes in a window combines beautiful visual imagery with beautiful music. Rendering by Bob Kirchman.
Catholicism and Beauty ByBishop Robert Barron
A refreshing perspective on the place of the beautiful in leading to Faith.
On the campus on Big Diomede, young Josiah Zimmerman, Rupert’s grandson, walked with Jonathan Greene, the president of the college and Josiah’s favorite professor. They were discussing Matthew 24:14: “And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations; and then shall the end come.”
What constitutes a nation in the eyes of the Divine?” Josiah asked.
The dictionary says, ‘a large aggregate of people united by common descent, history, culture, or language, inhabiting a particular country or territory.’ Not too helpful in determining the mind of the Master. The rebirth of freedom in the North has come with a rebirth of fervor to reach the nations, as is evidenced by your presence at this institution. Still, I think we can identify such groups around us with some certainty and we are putting the Bible in their hands. The upcoming World’s Fair in Fairgate, Alaska will no doubt mark a point where we’ve pretty much put the Holy Scriptures in every human language there is. We correspond with believers in every part of the world. I think at this point the burden is on us to identify any particular place of occupation that has NOT been reached. That is where I think our Master’s focus would be.”
That is my frustration, sir. I feel like the work is going to be done before I get there. I read about the Moravians going out into the wilds and reaching the Cherokee and the joy of shining the Gospel where it has never shone before… and I look at the situation today. Even the Middle East is opening up to the message. With the demise of APOLLONIUS, the academy and the media have found new faith quite without our help. They started looking for truth and beauty again. Guess where it led them?”
Is it wrong, Dr. Greene, to be jealous to do a great work for God?”
That is a good one, young friend, and it deserves a thoughtful answer.” The good doctor was silent for a moment, then he continued, “Remember our discussion last week, and how for an artist like Sandro Botticelli the recognition of beauty led to transcendent truth. When he painted ‘The Birth of Venus’ it is evident that his sense of desire has been guided Heavenward. So it shall be with your ambitions to do great works. Think of Ransom in the college maintenance shops. He likes to work with his hands. Building a door gives him great pleasure… but I pray one day he will see who he’s building the door for! He’s an old special forces guy… mind and conscience pretty much seared, but get a planer in his hands and his eyes light up. God does not despise us for our aspirations. He meets us there. But, mind you, He will lead us upward. He has no desire to leave us playing in the mud when he’s planned for us a holiday at the beach! (I’m paraphrasing Lewis here).”
But, why should I feel such a passion to reach the nations if they have already been reached? I mean, should I not be able to find contentment and purpose in a simple task like Brother Lawrence who served most nobly working in the kitchen? Still, if I deny the drive inside me, I feel that I am lying.”
Passion is good, but true knowledge must define it. Remember the 2033 eclipse over Alaska. There was an author who wrote a book about the eclipse signaling the end of the world… nothing new here. The Millerites did it in the 19th Century. They were still waiting after their ‘appointed’ date and refigured it. Then they were still waiting after that. I think the Divine holds his cards close for a reason. We need to serve him like this will be our last day on Earth, but we need to build our works to last for 100 years. Some see contradiction there but it is clear that the tension between the two holds us in place to serve Him. I’m rambling, but I feel like the Lord will inform your passion and make it most profitable. You will indeed hear Him say ‘Well done, good and faithful servant!’ one day. That is enough.” (to be continued)
Volume XIII, Issue III
Phantasies ByGeorge Macdonald, Chapter 25
Our life is no dream; but it ought to become one, and perhaps will."
~ Novalis
And on the ground, which is my modres gate, I knocke with my staf; erlich and late, And say to hire, Leve mother, let me in."
~ Geoffrey Chaucer, "The Pardoneres Tale".
Sinking from such a state of ideal bliss, into the world of shadows which again closed around and infolded me, my first dread was, not unnaturally, that my own shadow had found me again, and that my torture had commenced anew. It was a sad revulsion of feeling. This, indeed, seemed to correspond to what we think death is, before we die. Yet I felt within me a power of calm endurance to which I had hitherto been a stranger. For, in truth, that I should be able if only to think such things as I had been thinking, was an unspeakable delight. An hour of such peace made the turmoil of a lifetime worth striving through.
I found myself lying in the open air, in the early morning, before sunrise. Over me rose the summer heaven, expectant of the sun. The clouds already saw him, coming from afar; and soon every dewdrop would rejoice in his individual presence within it.
I lay motionless for a few minutes; and then slowly rose and looked about me. I was on the summit of a little hill; a valley lay beneath, and a range of mountains closed up the view upon that side. But, to my horror, across the valley, and up the height of the opposing mountains, stretched, from my very feet, a hugely expanding shade. There it lay, long and large, dark and mighty. I turned away with a sick despair; when lo! I beheld the sun just lifting his head above the eastern hill, and the shadow that fell from me, lay only where his beams fell not. I danced for joy. It was only the natural shadow, that goes with every man who walks in the sun. As he arose, higher and higher, the shadow-head sank down the side of the opposite hill, and crept in across the valley towards my feet.
Now that I was so joyously delivered from this fear, I saw and recognised the country around me. In the valley below, lay my own castle, and the haunts of my childhood were all about me hastened home. My sisters received me with unspeakable joy; but I suppose they observed some change in me, for a kind of respect, with a slight touch of awe in it, mingled with their joy, and made me ashamed. They had been in great distress about me. On the morning of my disappearance, they had found the floor of my room flooded; and, all that day, a wondrous and nearly impervious mist had hung about the castle and grounds. I had been gone, they told me, twenty-one days. To me it seemed twenty-one years. Nor could I yet feel quite secure in my new experiences. When, at night, I lay down once more in my own bed, I did not feel at all sure that when I awoke, I should not find myself in some mysterious region of Fairy Land. My dreams were incessant and perturbed; but when I did awake, I saw clearly that I was in my own home.
My mind soon grew calm; and I began the duties of my new position, somewhat instructed, I hoped, by the adventures that had befallen me in Fairy Land. Could I translate the experience of my travels there, into common life? This was the question. Or must I live it all over again, and learn it all over again, in the other forms that belong to the world of men, whose experience yet runs parallel to that of Fairy Land? These questions I cannot answer yet. But I fear.
Even yet, I find myself looking round sometimes with anxiety, to see whether my shadow falls right away from the sun or no. I have never yet discovered any inclination to either side. And if I am not unfrequently sad, I yet cast no more of a shade on the earth, than most men who have lived in it as long as I. I have a strange feeling sometimes, that I am a ghost, sent into the world to minister to my fellow men, or, rather, to repair the wrongs I have already done.
May the world be brighter for me, at least in those portions of it, where my darkness falls not.
Thus I, who set out to find my Ideal, came back rejoicing that I had lost my Shadow.
When the thought of the blessedness I experienced, after my death in Fairy Land, is too high for me to lay hold upon it and hope in it, I often think of the wise woman in the cottage, and of her solemn assurance that she knew something too good to be told. When I am oppressed by any sorrow or real perplexity, I often feel as if I had only left her cottage for a time, and would soon return out of the vision, into it again. Sometimes, on such occasions, I find myself, unconsciously almost, looking about for the mystic mark of red, with the vague hope of entering her door, and being comforted by her wise tenderness. I then console myself by saying: "I have come through the door of Dismay; and the way back from the world into which that has led me, is through my tomb. Upon that the red sign lies, and I shall find it one day, and be glad."
I will end my story with the relation of an incident which befell me a few days ago. I had been with my reapers, and, when they ceased their work at noon, I had lain down under the shadow of a great, ancient beech-tree, that stood on the edge of the field. As I lay, with my eyes closed, I began to listen to the sound of the leaves overhead. At first, they made sweet inarticulate music alone; but, by-and-by, the sound seemed to begin to take shape, and to be gradually moulding itself into words; till, at last, I seemed able to distinguish these, half-dissolved in a little ocean of circumfluent tones: "A great good is coming--is coming--is coming to thee, Anodos"; and so over and over again. I fancied that the sound reminded me of the voice of the ancient woman, in the cottage that was four-square. I opened my eyes, and, for a moment, almost believed that I saw her face, with its many wrinkles and its young eyes, looking at me from between two hoary branches of the beech overhead. But when I looked more keenly, I saw only twigs and leaves, and the infinite sky, in tiny spots, gazing through between. Yet I know that good is coming to me--that good is always coming; though few have at all times the simplicity and the courage to believe it. What we call evil, is the only and best shape, which, for the person and his condition at the time, could be assumed by the best good. And so, farewell.
The End
Thomas Jefferson said of Falling Spring Falls in the Alleghany Highlands of Virginia:“The only remarkable cascade in this country is that of the Falling Spring in Augusta…it falls over a rock 200 feet into the valley below.” -- Thomas Jefferson, ‘Notes on the State of Virginia’ written in 1781. The falls are actually 80 feet high.
Regional Travel Map A Different Trip Planning Resource
Regional Travel Map by Bob Kirchman.
Sometimes it is nice to have a good old flat paper map in front of you when you are planning a regional road trip. GPS and electronic maps are great, but they sometimes fail to give you the 'overview' you had with a good old-fashioned map. As you plan your Summer travels, you can download the Journey Regional Map [click to read], print it, and plan a few road trips.
Find LOVE at Alleghany County Virginia's 160 year-old Humpback Bridge.[1.]
Paint Bank, in Craig County, Virginia got its unusual name from the iron ochre and red clay taken from the banks of Potts Creek that was used by Native Americans, notably the Cherokees, as war paint, and to make their pottery with a distinctive red color. Photo by Bob Kirchman
The General Store in Paint Bank, Virginia. The Swinging Bridge Restaurant is located in an extension of this building and features delicious buffalo dishes. Photo by Bob Kirchman
Tingler's Mill in Paint Branch, Virginia. Photo by Bob Kirchman
Why Beauty Matters
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." -- Phillipians 4:8
Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it." -- Psalm 90:16,17
1841 Lithograph of the interior of London's Reform Club. Here Phileas Fogg enters into the wager that begins his attempt to circumnavigate the globe. The Reform Club is a private members club on the south side of Pall Mall in central London. As with all London's original gentlemen’s clubs, it comprised an all-male membership for decades, but was the first to change its rules to include the admission of women on equal terms in 1981. Since its founding, the Reform Club has been the traditional home for those committed to progressive political ideas, with its membership initially consisting of Radicals and Whigs. However, today it is no longer associated with any particular political party, and now serves a purely social function.
In 1832, Parliament passed a law changing the British electoral system. It was known as the Great Reform Act.
This was a response to many years of people criticising the electoral system as unfair. For example, there were constituencies with only a handful of voters that elected two MPs to Parliament. In these rotten boroughs, with few voters and no secret ballot, it was easy for candidates to buy votes. Yet towns like Manchester that had grown during the previous 80 years had no MPs to represent them.
In 1831, the House of Commons passed a Reform Bill, but the House of Lords, dominated by Tories, defeated it. There followed riots and serious disturbances in London, Birmingham, Derby, Nottingham, Leicester, Yeovil, Sherborne, Exeter and Bristol.
The riots in Bristol were some of the worst seen in England in the 19th century. They began when Sir Charles Weatherall, who was opposed to the Reform Bill, came to open the Assize Court. Public buildings and houses were set on fire, there was more than £300,000 of damage and twelve people died. Of 102 people arrested and tried, 31 were sentenced to death. Lieutenant-Colonel Brereton, the commander of the army in Bristol, was court-martialed.
There was a fear in government that unless there was some reform there might be a revolution instead. They looked to the July 1830 revolution in France, which overthrew King Charles X and replaced him with the more moderate King Louis-Philippe who agreed to a constitutional monarchy.
In Britain, King William IV lost popularity for standing in the way of reform. Eventually he agreed to create new Whig peers, and when the House of Lords heard this, they agreed to pass the Reform Act. Rotten boroughs were removed and the new towns given the right to elect MPs, although constituencies were still of uneven size. However, only men who owned property worth at least £10 could vote, which cut out most of the working classes, and only men who could afford to pay to stand for election could be MPs. This reform did not go far enough to silence all protest. -- UK National Archives
Around the World in 80 Days (French: Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours) is a classic adventure novel by the French writer Jules Verne, first published in 1873. In the story, Phileas Fogg of London and his newly employed French valet Passepartout attempt to circumnavigate the world in 80 days on a £20,000 wager set by his friends at the Reform Club. (read more)
The Reform Club was founded in 1836, in Pall Mall, in the centre of what is often called London's Clubland. The founders commissioned a leading architect of the day, Charles Barry, to build an imposing and palatial clubhouse. It is as splendid today as when it opened in 1841. Membership was restricted to those who pledged support for the Great Reform Act of 1832, and the many MPs and Whig peers among the early members developed the Club as the political headquarters of the Liberal Party.
The Vision of Jules Verne
He was born in 1928 in the port city of Nantes, France. His father was a pragmatic lawyer but his mother nurtured his creative inclinations. Though he followed his father’s wishes and trained to be a lawyer, he would go on to meet publisher Pierre-Jules Hetzel who would serialize his stories. These Voyages Extraordinaires would eventually become his famous novels earning him the title: “Father of Science Fiction.” Although Verne died in 1905 his works continued to be published and he would become the second most translated author in the world. Verne saw the technological revolution of the Nineteenth Century as it unfolded and crafted new applications of it as he charted his ‘Voyages.’ It is not surprising that as a youth I was drawn to his work.
For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty G-d, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." -- Isaiah 9:6 (read more)
This was written after UVA's win at the time just after Charlottesville's difficult days when a young woman and a number of law enforcement officers were killed. Tony Bennett is deep, he is a true gentleman and he cares about the community he serves. (read more)
Notre Dame de Paris Rose Windows Safe!
After the terrible fire that ripped through Notre Dame de Paris, today we learned that the priceless rose windows and the magnificent pipe organ have survived. These photos show the transept where the spire fell through the vault. There is much damage to repair as the roof was completely destroyed, but much remains. Photos by Christian Christensen
You wanted to see me right away?” Abiyah Ben-Gurion said as he walked into the Zimmerman offices in Wales, Alaska. Elizabeth O’Malley’s assistant Hannah replied, “Yes, I did! I just received this communication from our office on Space Station/Assembly Center 005. It seems they’ve observed something you need to look at on Mars.”
She continued: “As you know, we’ve done periodic flyovers of the abandoned colony ruins… sort of a chance to observe decay in the Martian environment… and, Oh, I am so sorry. I recall how painful that was for you, but please indulge me. There is a mystery here we need you to weigh in on. Let me bring up the images.”
Hannah’s deskpad displayed two views of the colony ruins taken from orbit. The first was a photo Abiyah’s wife Sarah had taken several decades ago. The second was freshly processed from an unmanned probe that was orbiting Mars as they spoke.
See those surviving greenhouses in the shadow of that rock mass. That was all that remained of the APOLLONIUS Colony when you returned to Earth after it had been tragically destroyed by the missile. Look at the footprint carefully. Now look at the view from our probe as it flew over yesterday. See the difference?”
Abiyah’s keen eye caught it at once, “The footprint is different!” he exclaimed. “How can that be?”
We’re perplexed as well. It is BIGGER! We wondered if blast sand had covered some greenhouses and now has blown off, but Sarah’s images of the colony before destruction show no greenhouses there!”
Well, I’m stymied,” said Abiyah, “we scanned repeatedly for signs of life and you know how thorough Sarah is!”
The 3D printers we sent up then were pretty primitive by today’s standards. There was not the AI to self-duplicate anything. As I recall, the greenhouses involved a fair amount of human manipulation to construct. They could manufacture the struts and clear panels from local soils heated in the kiln, but that too required a lot of human oversight.”
So, obviously we have someone… or someTHING adding on to the remains of the colony!”
That’s it sir, we have a riddle on our hands.”
Well, Hannah, let’s use Occam's Razor to begin with. Someone has been adding greenhouses to our colony… or what’s left of it. Who would be the simplest to suspect. We have not tracked any ships from other nations going out to Mars. Space Aliens are always invoked in a case like this… but we’ve never actually seen one… EVER! I would have to say that someone survived the blast that destroyed the colony, incredible as that may sound. The reason we didn’t detect them was that they remained in an underground bunker… perhaps aware of the radiation danger outside. They had no communication ability as that was totally destroyed.”
He continued, “It would have had to have been one of the more technically inclined colonists, to be sure -- Someone who could keep the oxygenation going in the greenhouses and run the 3D printers. I daresay there is more than one survivor.”
So, what do we do next?” Hannah mused.
We need to make contact, if we can. Remember they launched the missile to destroy our ship in orbit. It fell back to Mars and exploded on the colony… we thought it exploded destroying everyone. We don’t know if they are so poisoned by the leadership of APOLLONIUS that they believe we are tainted and they are the enlightened ones.”
Hannah looked up at the painting of Rupert Zimmerman, the mind behind the enterprises that now required their oversight and wondered what Mr. Z would have said at this moment, but it had been some time since Rupert passed after taking pneumonia following the ceremonies to commence construction on the St. Lawrence Island Crossing. Rupert had always been somewhat of an enigma to those closest to him in life, and his painted eyes gazed down at Hannah giving nothing away. (to be continued,)
The Island in Sherando Lake. Photo by Bob kirchman.
Volume XVI, Issue XVa
Phantasies ByGeorge Macdonald, Chapter 24
We are ne'er like angels till our passions die."
~ Thomas Dekker.
This wretched Inn, where we scarce stay to baite, We call our dwelling-place: We call one step a race: But angels in their full enlightened state, Angels, who live, and know what 'tis to be, Who all the nonsense of our language see, Who speak things, and our words, their ill-drawn Pictures, scorn, When we, by a foolish figure, say, Behold an old man Dead! then they Speak properly, and cry, Behold a man-child born!"
~ Abraham Cowley
I was dead, and right content. I lay in my coffin, with my hands folded in peace. The knight, and the lady I loved, wept over me.
Her tears fell on my face.
Ah!" said the knight, "I rushed amongst them like a madman. I hewed them down like brushwood. Their swords battered on me like hail, but hurt me not. I cut a lane through to my friend. He was dead. But he had throttled the monster, and I had to cut the handful out of its throat, before I could disengage and carry off his body. They dared not molest me as I brought him back."
He has died well," said the lady.
My spirit rejoiced. They left me to my repose. I felt as if a cool hand had been laid upon my heart, and had stilled it. My soul was like a summer evening, after a heavy fall of rain, when the drops are yet glistening on the trees in the last rays of the down-going sun, and the wind of the twilight has begun to blow. The hot fever of life had gone by, and I breathed the clear mountain-air of the land of Death. I had never dreamed of such blessedness. It was not that I had in any way ceased to be what I had been. The very fact that anything can die, implies the existence of something that cannot die; which must either take to itself another form, as when the seed that is sown dies, and arises again; or, in conscious existence, may, perhaps, continue to lead a purely spiritual life. If my passions were dead, the souls of the passions, those essential mysteries of the spirit which had imbodied themselves in the passions, and had given to them all their glory and wonderment, yet lived, yet glowed, with a pure, undying fire. They rose above their vanishing earthly garments, and disclosed themselves angels of light. But oh, how beautiful beyond the old form! I lay thus for a time, and lived as it were an unradiating existence; my soul a motionless lake, that received all things and gave nothing back; satisfied in still contemplation, and spiritual consciousness.
Ere long, they bore me to my grave. Never tired child lay down in his white bed, and heard the sound of his playthings being laid aside for the night, with a more luxurious satisfaction of repose than I knew, when I felt the coffin settle on the firm earth, and heard the sound of the falling mould upon its lid. It has not the same hollow rattle within the coffin, that it sends up to the edge of the grave. They buried me in no graveyard. They loved me too much for that, I thank them; but they laid me in the grounds of their own castle, amid many trees; where, as it was spring-time, were growing primroses, and blue-bells, and all the families of the woods
Now that I lay in her bosom, the whole earth, and each of her many births, was as a body to me, at my will. I seemed to feel the great heart of the mother beating into mine, and feeding me with her own life, her own essential being and nature. I heard the footsteps of my friends above, and they sent a thrill through my heart. I knew that the helpers had gone, and that the knight and the lady remained, and spoke low, gentle, tearful words of him who lay beneath the yet wounded sod. I rose into a single large primrose that grew by the edge of the grave, and from the window of its humble, trusting face, looked full in the countenance of the lady. I felt that I could manifest myself in the primrose; that it said a part of what I wanted to say; just as in the old time, I had used to betake myself to a song for the same end. The flower caught her eye. She stooped and plucked it, saying, "Oh, you beautiful creature!" and, lightly kissing it, put it in her bosom. It was the first kiss she had ever given me. But the flower soon began to wither, and I forsook it.
It was evening. The sun was below the horizon; but his rosy beams yet illuminated a feathery cloud, that floated high above the world. I arose, I reached the cloud; and, throwing myself upon it, floated with it in sight of the sinking sun. He sank, and the cloud grew gray; but the grayness touched not my heart. It carried its rose-hue within; for now I could love without needing to be loved again. The moon came gliding up with all the past in her wan face. She changed my couch into a ghostly pallor, and threw all the earth below as to the bottom of a pale sea of dreams. But she could not make me sad. I knew now, that it is by loving, and not by being loved, that one can come nearest the soul of another; yea, that, where two love, it is the loving of each other, and not the being loved by each other, that originates and perfects and assures their blessedness. I knew that love gives to him that loveth, power over any soul beloved, even if that soul know him not, bringing him inwardly close to that spirit; a power that cannot be but for good; for in proportion as selfishness intrudes, the love ceases, and the power which springs therefrom dies. Yet all love will, one day, meet with its return. All true love will, one day, behold its own image in the eyes of the beloved, and be humbly glad. This is possible in the realms of lofty Death. "Ah! my friends," thought I, "how I will tend you, and wait upon you, and haunt you with my love."
My floating chariot bore me over a great city. Its faint dull sound steamed up into the air--a sound--how composed?" How many hopeless cries," thought I, "and how many mad shouts go to make up the tumult, here so faint where I float in eternal peace, knowing that they will one day be stilled in the surrounding calm, and that despair dies into infinite hope, and the seeming impossible there, is the law here!
But, O pale-faced women, and gloomy-browed men, and forgotten children, how I will wait on you, and minister to you, and, putting my arms about you in the dark, think hope into your hearts, when you fancy no one is near! Soon as my senses have all come back, and have grown accustomed to this new blessed life, I will be among you with the love that healeth."
With this, a pang and a terrible shudder went through me; a writhing as of death convulsed me; and I became once again conscious of a more limited, even a bodily and earthly life. (to be continued)
Tulip Symmetry. Photo by Bob Kirchman.
Elevator to Surface, Smithsonian Station in the Washington Metro.
Do Metro executives know what the Metro is like for a person who uses a wheelchair? (read more)
A New Proposal for 'Elysian Lilies' ByBob Kirchman
In Metro's Smithsonian Station, the Elevator is tucked into a dark alcove that is poorly marked. If you forget to check the status updates for elevators, you might encounter this scene... the elevator is out of service.
In the older Metro Stations in Washington D. C., the elevators might seem like an afterthought. In Smithsonian Station, the elevator sits in a dark alcove and is easily missed. Harry Weese designed the stations as a crypt, of sorts, to the Federal City. He wanted you to know you were underground.
Newer Metro stations have two elevators side by side and they are large enough for two people in wheelchairs to ride together. Smithsonian Station's elevator is relatively small. Adding to the claustrophobia is the dark alcove. While the vaulted stations and open escalators are elegant in their muted illumination, a case might be made for the elevator alcove needing to visually signal connection to the world above.
To that end, a variation of the 'Elysian Lilies' mural is designed below, along with a brighter ceiling light and a brighter elevator door.
'Elysian Lilies' Mural Design for a Lift Alcove. Bob Kirchman
Panda Popularity Personified
Kids and Pandas are Inseparable at DC Zoo
A panda sculpture at the National Zoo Metro station attracts attention. Photo by Bob Kirchman
The Challenge of Leadership
"The Prayer at Valley Forge" byArnold Fribergis one of the best known paintings of the American Revolution. It depicts George Washington at Valley Forge.
No doubt, George Washington knew the challenge of leadership well. He began his career without a full college degree, but at the age of sixteen he obtained his surveyer's certificate from The College of William and Mary. At an age when most modern young men are playing video games, he was out discovering and marking an actual country! He did do something akin to the actions of modern young men when he discreetly carved his initials into Rock Bridge County's natural wonder, Natural Bridge!
Washington is noted for his military career, but historian James Hodges, Ph.D.gives us some unique insight into the man's character:
At the Battle of Brandywine in September 1777, a particularly brutal battle with much carnage on both sides, a fox terrier got lost between the lines. The little dog was captured by the Americans, who saw inscribed in his collar: “Property of General Howe.” Washington made sure the little dog was fed, cleaned and treated well. Under a flag of truce, Alexander Hamilton delivered the dog to General Howe, who had suffered great mental anguish thinking his little terrier had been lost to him forever.
Washington had been passionately fond of horses from early boyhood, and owned his first horse at 17. His mother, Mary Ball Washington, was a skilled horsewoman who taught young George how to train horses using only the gentlest of methods, and to never resort to any cruelty. Washington learned that harsh training methods were counter-productive, because horses treated with respect are eager to please their riders." [1.]
At the second battle of Trenton, on January 2, 1777, it was clearly evident that Washington's great charger Nelson returned the affection of his rider. Though cannon shells were bursting around them, man and horse stood firm. To those men Washington led into battle, they stood together as a symbol of strength. A soldier writes: “As I crossed the bridge crowded with fellow soldiers, I brushed up against the boot of the man and flank of the horse. Both seemed to exude courage.”
After the great war was over, Washington indeed became President of the nation he had helped to create. His leadership skills would be tested in the days of the Newburgh Conspiracy, where he would avert a military coup. The young nation's coffers were empty. The Continental Army had not been fully paid, and an uprising was brewing. There was talk of taking up arms against the Congress. Washington went to his officers and appealed to them in an emotional address on March 15, 1783.
Cool heads prevailed and Congress voted on a plan to pay the men. Interestingly, Washington distrusted the notion of political parties. He never aligned with one himself, though those around him were crafting the foundation for the two party system we have today. Perhaps the man's own sayings tell us volumes about his life and its motivations: [2.]
It is impossible to rightly govern the world without G-d and Bible."
The propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself has ordained”
Make sure you are doing what G-d wants you to do---then do it with all your strength."
What students would learn in American schools above all is the religion of Jesus Christ.” "It is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty G-d, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favors."
My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her."
The General hopes and trusts that every officer and man will endeavor to live and act as becomes a Christian soldier defending the dearest rights and liberties of his country."
If to please the people, we offer what we ourselves disapprove, how can we afterwards defend our work? Let us raise a standard to which the wise and honest can repair. The rest is in the hands of G-d."
No people can be bound to acknowledge the Invisible Hand which conducts the affairs of men more than the people of the United States. Every step by which they have advanced to the character of an independent nation seems to have been distinguished by some token of providential agency"
Iam sure that never was a people, who had more reason to acknowledge a Divine interposition in their affairs, than those of the United States; and I should be pained to believe that they have forgotten that agency, which was so often manifested during our Revolution, or that they failed to consider the omnipotence of that G-d who is alone able to protect them.”
Happiness and moral duty are inseparably connected.”
Iearnestly pray that the Omnipotent Being who has not deserted the cause of America in the hour of its extremist hazard, will never yield so fair a heritage of freedom a prey to "Anarchy" or "Despotism"."
Cherry Blossoms frame the Jefferson Memorial on the Washington, D. C. Tidal Basin. Photo by Bob Kirchman
Caesar Rodney's Midnight Ride
Now one was neither Tory nor Whig; it was either dependence or independence.” Caesar Rodney, after Lexington and Concord.
We all know the famous story of Paul Revere's midnight ride. Virginians celebrate the memory of Jack Jouett, who rode to Monticello to warn Thomas Jefferson of approaching British troops.Jefferson and the Virginia Legislature were able to escape across the Blue Ridge Mountains to Staunton. Still, the most memorable midnight ride that saved the young republic has to be that of Caesar Rodney. Without Rodney's ride, there would not have been a republic at all.
Caesar Rodney was born in 1728 on his family's 800 acre farm, Byfield, on St. Jones Neck in East Dover Hundred, Kent County, Delaware. The family could trace its ancestry to the Adelmare family of Treviso, Italy. Caesar Rodney's farm was a large one, worked by slaves, and it provided wheat and barley to markets in Philadelphia. His brother Thomas described him as possessing a: "great fund of wit and humor of the pleasing kind, so that his conversation was always bright and strong and conducted by wisdom... He always lived a bachelor, was generally esteemed, and indeed very popular." Indeed, his talents found him taking his place in public service. He served as sheriff and in a number of other positions. He joined Thomas McKean as a delegate to the Stamp Act Congress in 1765 and was the Brigadier General of the Delaware Militia. He went on to serve in the Continental Congress.
Here is where he made his most courageous contribution to the cause of American independence. In 1776 the vote to adopt the Declaration saw the Delaware delegation deadlocked. This was a problem as the delegates to the convention had decided that an all or nothing approach was essential. Of Delaware's two present delegates Mckean favored independence. The other delegate, George Read, did not. Rodney, who was also qualified to vote, was at home performing his duties as General of the militia when the initial voting took place. Mckean had sent word to Rodney that his vote would be needed in Philadelphia... but the message never got to him. Rodney was a bachelor and his love interest at the time was being used by the Tories to divert his participation! She was intercepting the messages! By the time McKean's message finally got to Rodney, the first deadlocked vote had already taken place and it was well into the evening. Rodney mounted his horse and rode through a great thunderstorm along the muddy road to Philadelphia. Lightning illuminated the wet road as he sloshed along as rapidly as conditions would allow. For seventy miles he rode.
Rodney was not a well man. He suffered from a rare form of cancer that disfigured his face and sapped his strength. No doubt he knew the ride could kill him, but he pressed on. He was committed to an act of treason that might lead to his death if he did survive. But he pressed on through the darkness. He reached Philadelphia by mid-morning. Spattered with mud, he stepped into the chamber just in time to cast his historic vote. Now the votes by all colonies who actually voted was unanimous! The framers rightly considered this essential to the success of the Declaration. Without Caesar Rodney's heroic ride, there would have not been a July 4th for us to celebrate! Rodney served in the war effort, even fighting alongside George Washington, who said of him: “The readiness with which you took to the field at the period most critical to our affairs, the industry you used in bringing out the militia of the Delaware State and the alertness observed by you in forwarding on the troops from Trenton, reflect the highest honor on your character and place your attachment to the cause in a most distinguished point of view.” As a young republic took its place in the world, Rodney continued to serve but his health was now rapidly declining. He died in 1784. [2.]
His legacy lives on today though. My friend Brandy Leigh Messick and her four sons are proud descendents of this great patriot and continue his mission to promote the values of this great nation to this day! Special thanks to her for providing additional background for this article.
North Rose Window, Notre Dame de Paris PSALM 48, Bringing the Beauty of Zion to the World
North Rose Window, Notre Dame de Paris. — Scratchboard, 12" x 12" by Bob Kirchman
“Bringing the Beauty of Zion to the World” — Scratchboard 12” x 12” by Bob Kirchman. A gift to Kristina and Jonathan Greer.
Walk about Zion, and go around her: tell the towers thereof. Mark ye well her bulwarks, consider her palaces; that ye May tell it to the generation following” — PSALM 48:12,13
Volume XVI, Issue XVb
The Meaning of the Miraculous For many Centuries man has acknowledged the miraculous. In the weeks to come the Jewish community celebrates their deliverance from Egypt and the beginning of their journey to the Promised Land. [1.] A dialogue set in a meals has all generations together consider the preservation of their people that could only be seen as a work of G-d. Previous generations always saw G-d, or some miraculous force as Creator. The Patriarchs saw Him as Provider and Deliverer! The relatively recent concept of Evolution (Charles Darwin in the Nineteenth Century) has created a philosophy of Naturalism that either outright rejects or quietly diminishes the Theistic explanation.
I once attended an Easter service at a large church in Richmond. The minister asserted that the Resurrection was not important! I don't remember anything else he said. I was astonished because Christ's Resurrection would seem to be a cornerstone of Christianity. Many voices today denounce Faith. They may not directly denounce it, but in the academy it is the subject of "open discourse" such as that experienced by Ryan Rotella at FAU [click to read]. Rotella was asked to leave a class. His "offense" was refusing to participate in an excercise where students were required to "stamp on Jesus."Dennis Prager [click to read] has more details. Though the school ultimately apologized to Rotella, it justified its so-called "open discourse" in doing so.
Running from the Resurrection
In fact, among many in academia today you are likely to hear some variation of the following: "There are other reasons why I consider Christianity to be an
ill-chosen creed, such as the morals actually taught in the Bible,
many of which are abhorrent to a compassionate and just man, or other
details of its theology which run counter to observable facts." writes atheist
Richard Carrier in introduction to his argument against Jesus' resurrection from the dead.
Here in his introduction, Carrier gives what I believe is his real reason for being
uncomfortable with a physical resurrection. A G-d who can so control
the laws of nature can ask 'unreasonable' things of us as well. A
'Compassionate and Just Man,' in Carrier's world can support abortion
on demand because it is not 'abhorrent' to his viewpoint that abortion
is a kind response to the needs of women with unplanned pregnancies. The beating heart of the unborn child need not be seen here as an 'observable fact.'
Likewise, the 'restrictive' definition of marriage as a relationship
defined by Scripture in specific terms may be viewed as archaic and
discriminatory.If G-d didn't design it, He cannot write the specifications.
The elimination of Christianity as an authoritative source allows us
to personalize moral decisions. In a culture that elevates
self-actualization, this is virtue. It spares us the heavy lifting
required to weigh moral absolutes with human frailty.
Jesus, meeting a Samaritan woman at a well, is a prime example of what
I mean by this heavy lifting. Balancing compassion for the woman with his observation that
she has not been a faithful wife, Jesus creates a constructive
dialogue. He does not condemn her, nor does He overlook the complexity
she has created in her relationships. He speaks truth and ultimately
the dialogue that results sets her free. Here Absolute Love and Absolute Truth are in no way mutually exclusive. In the end her search for 'Living Water' trumps her desire to live as she pleases. [2.]
A G-d who can part the Red Sea, Create worlds and has power over death is pretty much to be respected. A G-d who changes human lives in intimate communion with his Creation is amazing.
Before Jesus appeared, the concept of Resurrection is found in Scripture. Sometimes it is very clear and other times it is a logical assumption consistent with the text.
Resurrection Foretold
And he made his grave
with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no
violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth. Yet it pleased the Lord
to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul
an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days,
and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. He
shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his
knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear
their iniquities. Therefore
will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the
spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death:
and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bare the sin of many,
and made intercession for the transgressors." -- Isaiah 53:9-12 The famous Messianic text above talks of triumph after death. Other texts that may be seen as prophetic of Resurrection are: Genesis 3:15, Psalm 2:7, Psalm 16:9-11, Psalm 22:14-25, Psalm 30:29, Psalm 40:13, Psalm 110:1, Psalm 118:21-24, Hosea 5:15-6:3, Zechariah 12:10.
Resurrection Documented and Verified
I know of no one fact in the history of mankind which is proved by
better, fuller evidence of every sort, to the understanding of a fair
inquirer, than the great sign which God hath given us that Christ died,
and rose again from the dead." says Dr. Thomas Arnold, formerly Professor of History at Rugby and Oxford Universities. Simon Greenleaf, one of the most skilled legal minds ever produced in this nation, top
authority on the question of what constitutes sound evidence, developer
of the Harvard Law School, after a thorough evaluation of the four
Gospel accounts from the point of view of their validity as objective
testimonial evidence, concluded:
It was therefore impossible that they could have persisted in affirming
the truths they had narrated, had not Jesus actually risen from the
dead, and had they not known this fact as certainly as they knew any
other fact." [3.]Dr. Henry M. Morris PhD writes more onThe Importance of the Resurrection [click to read]. His point is that the foundational truth of the Christian faith has plenty of evidence to support it.
A G-d who can part the Red Sea, Create worlds and has power over death
is pretty much to be respected. A G-d who changes human lives in
intimate communion with his Creation is amazing.
The Great Northern was home. She was reassigned to her original destination as SS/AC006 and crews came aboard to install the Iron Dome system that would allow her to be a part of the defense against rogue missiles. Abiyah and some of the original crew made a few trips up to ‘hand her off’ but the station now was staffed on a rotation of one month on, one month off by Alaska Space Program regulars. No more would man spend prolonged time in space with its unknown consequences. The only deference to the mission to Mars was the decision to preserve the nursery. It was a welcome touch of home… particularly for some of the women crew members who set up the SKYPE lounge there with the running children in the mural as a backdrop. There they would talk to their own children on Earth and their children felt connection as they saw the playful scene surrounding their parent. The crew now was more like those in merchant service who can count on regular extended time at home when their tours are over. Mars was really the last world nearby that was explorable by humans. The large planets such as Jupiter had dense toxic atmospheres and intensely strong gravity. The service would return to their original plan and build sophisticated probes and rovers designed to survive the harsh conditions. Abiyah and Sarah wound up their report writing and their official assignment was coming to an end. They walked one evening a few houses down in Shalom to the home of Rupert and Pat Zimmerman for dinner, little son in tow. There they engaged in an interesting dialogue with the old engineer.
Well, I think it is safe to say that you two will go down in history as the first humans to set foot on Mars, but I am afraid we will not want to send you back.”
Sarah stifled a chuckle: “I should only want to make that journey once anyway.”
Yes, when our forefathers and mothers set sail for new worlds,” Zimmerman continued, “They did not find empty lifeless wastelands. They found rich lands inhabited by people who could show them the riches to be found there. Squanto was there to teach the Pilgrims how to farm, and Sacajawea was there to guide Lewis and Clark. Though it is disputed today, it is pretty clear that the first men and women crossed the Bering Strait upon a land bridge of some sort. They settled the land little by little and when others came they learned from the ones who went before how to survive there. Sadly, human nature being what it is, there was always conquest, land grabbing and killing… and that went on before the Europeans showed up and engaged in even more of it.”
History shows us that venturing forth into new worlds is never a sure thing. In 1587,John Whitebrought more than 100 men, women and children with him in a small ship in the first attempt to found a permanent English colony in the New World. The group settled on Roanoke Island, one of a chain of barrier islands now known as the Outer Banks, off the coast of North Carolina. Later that year, White headed back to England to bring more supplies, but England’s naval war with Spain would delay his return for nearly three years. When he finally arrived on Roanoke Island, on August 18, 1590, White found the colony abandoned and looted, with no trace of the settlers. Only two clues remained: The word “Croatoan” had been carved on a post and the letters “CRO” scratched into a tree trunk. The settlers of Jamestown and Plymouth almost starved to death.”
So,” Sarah said, “There is no gradual and logical migration of humanity to the planets?”
No. And I was a fool to be taken in so quickly by George Apollonius in thinking that it would happen because we had a new space technology. Mankind needs to gain some real benefit from going out and I’m afraid Apollonius could only spin vain promises of undiscovered riches. His true motive was always to recast society in a way that he could control it. He thought if you could create the best all-powerful centralized government it would usher in a new age for mankind. The problem is that some of the darkest societies in the past century began with the same promise. Unfortunately control of mankind appears to be a poor substitute for actual redemption.”
God rest his soul, he and his fortune perished as the rocket fell back to Mars.”
Well,” said Rupert, “He left a sizable deposit in the bank of Wales to cover unforeseen costs of maintaining the colonies. He was so afraid of issuing bonds and having to answer to stockholders. We have been able to cover our costs from the Mars mission out of that and now there is enough left over to fund a couple of teaching endowments at the school of aerospace engineering.”
But, as you say, isn’t that pretty much a science that has been already pushed to its limits?”
Oh NO,” Replied Zimmerman, “I merely said that manned missions were done with, at least for the time being. Think about all of the old science fiction stories. They’d go to Mars and meet Martians and so space was like a giant world in itself. We’ll not meet anyone else in those hostile worlds we’ve actually seen so far. No Squanto… no Sacajawea! But that does not mean an end to exploration? On the contrary, we now have the ability to expend a reasonable amount of resources and learn incredible things. Who knows, we might even find a reason for mankind to venture out there again, but it shall not be over a challenge received at a dinner at the Reform Club!”
Epilogue: Joshua Adam Cohen-Ben Gurion
It was a bright Summer day a few years later on Big Diomede. Sarah and Abiyah’s son was playing in the attic bedroom of his favorite babysitter. The Greene’s eldest daughter and he played in a closet that Mrs. Greene had painted to look like the wardrobe doorway into Narnia and little Adam was enthralled by it. The boy often stared into the painting’s horizon… looking into another world it seemed. Major Cohen and her husband had settled in the biosphere upon their retirement, taking positions as professors of aerospace engineering at the college. They lived next door to the Greenes and Adam was quite happy with his new sitter! Sarah Cohen had just returned to pick up her son and she stood quietly in the doorway with Kris Greene watching the wonder.
Do you suppose he knows he was born in a most miraculous way?” Sarah Cohen mused.
Iwould be hard pressed to answer that.” said Kris, “But then, isn’t EVERY child’s birth a miracle… and aren't their little lives a glimpse into that unspoiled world of God’s creative Glory?”
Do you mean by that, Kris, that there is more of a connection to the Divine in this world than we suppose?” Sarah continued, “Could it also be true that our children are more adept at showing us the doorway than we give them credit for?” THE END(Read JOSIAH)
Volume XVI, Issue XIVa
Phantasies ByGeorge Macdonald, Chapter 23
High erected thought, seated in a heart of courtesy."
~ Sir Philip Sidney
A sweet attractive kinde of grace, A full assurance given by lookes, Continuall comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospel bookes."
~ Matthew Roydon, on Sir Philip Sidney.
I had not gone far, for I had but just lost sight of the hated tower, when a voice of another sort, sounding near or far, as the trees permitted or intercepted its passage, reached me. It was a full, deep, manly voice, but withal clear and melodious. Now it burst on the ear with a sudden swell, and anon, dying away as suddenly, seemed to come to me across a great space. Nevertheless, it drew nearer; till, at last, I could distinguish the words of the song, and get transient glimpses of the singer, between the columns of the trees. He came nearer, dawning upon me like a growing thought. He was a knight, armed from head to heel, mounted upon a strange-looking beast, whose form I could not understand. The words which I heard him sing were like these:
Heart be stout, And eye be true; Good blade out! And ill shall rue.
Courage, horse! Thou lackst no skill; Well thy force Hath matched my will.
For the foe With fiery breath, At a blow, It still in death.
Gently, horse! Tread fearlessly; 'Tis his corse That burdens thee.
The sun's eye Is fierce at noon; Thou and I Will rest full soon.
And new strength New work will meet; Till, at length, Long rest is sweet.
And now horse and rider had arrived near enough for me to see, fastened by the long neck to the hinder part of the saddle, and trailing its hideous length on the ground behind, the body of a great dragon. It was no wonder that, with such a drag at his heels, the horse could make but slow progress, notwithstanding his evident dismay. The horrid, serpent-like head, with its black tongue, forked with red, hanging out of its jaws, dangled against the horse's side. Its neck was covered with long blue hair, its sides with scales of green and gold. Its back was of corrugated skin, of a purple hue. Its belly was similar in nature, but its colour was leaden, dashed with blotches of livid blue. Its skinny, bat-like wings and its tail were of a dull gray. It was strange to see how so many gorgeous colours, so many curving lines, and such beautiful things as wings and hair and scales, combined to form the horrible creature, intense in ugliness.
The knight was passing me with a salutation; but, as I walked towards him, he reined up, and I stood by his stirrup. When I came near him, I saw to my surprise and pleasure likewise, although a sudden pain, like a birth of fire, sprang up in my heart, that it was the knight of the soiled armour, whom I knew before, and whom I had seen in the vision, with the lady of the marble. But I could have thrown my arms around him, because she loved him. This discovery only strengthened the resolution I had formed, before I recognised him, of offering myself to the knight, to wait upon him as a squire, for he seemed to be unattended. I made my request in as few words as possible. He hesitated for a moment, and looked at me thoughtfully. I saw that he suspected who I was, but that he continued uncertain of his suspicion. No doubt he was soon convinced of its truth; but all the time I was with him, not a word crossed his lips with reference to what he evidently concluded I wished to leave unnoticed, if not to keep concealed.
Squire and knight should be friends," said he: "can you take me by the hand?" And he held out the great gauntleted right hand. I grasped it willingly and strongly. Not a word more was said. The knight gave the sign to his horse, which again began his slow march, and I walked beside and a little behind.
We had not gone very far before we arrived at a little cottage; from which, as we drew near, a woman rushed out with the cry:
My child! my child! have you found my child?"
Ihave found her," replied the knight, "but she is sorely hurt. I was forced to leave her with the hermit, as I returned. You will find her there, and I think she will get better. You see I have brought you a present. This wretch will not hurt you again." And he undid the creature's neck, and flung the frightful burden down by the cottage door.
The woman was now almost out of sight in the wood; but the husband stood at the door, with speechless thanks in his face.
You must bury the monster," said the knight. "If I had arrived a moment later, I should have been too late. But now you need not fear, for such a creature as this very rarely appears, in the same part, twice during a lifetime."
Will you not dismount and rest you, Sir Knight?" said the peasant, who had, by this time, recovered himself a little.
That I will, thankfully," said he; and, dismounting, he gave the reins to me, and told me to unbridle the horse, and lead him into the shade. "You need not tie him up," he added; "he will not run away."
When I returned, after obeying his orders, and entered the cottage, I saw the knight seated, without his helmet, and talking most familiarly with the simple host. I stood at the open door for a moment, and, gazing at him, inwardly justified the white lady in preferring him to me. A nobler countenance I never saw. Loving-kindness beamed from every line of his face. It seemed as if he would repay himself for the late arduous combat, by indulging in all the gentleness of a womanly heart. But when the talk ceased for a moment, he seemed to fall into a reverie. Then the exquisite curves of the upper lip vanished. The lip was lengthened and compressed at the same moment. You could have told that, within the lips, the teeth were firmly closed. The whole face grew stern and determined, all but fierce; only the eyes burned on like a holy sacrifice, uplift on a granite rock.
The woman entered, with her mangled child in her arms. She was pale as her little burden. She gazed, with a wild love and despairing tenderness, on the still, all but dead face, white and clear from loss of blood and terror.
The knight rose. The light that had been confined to his eyes, now shone from his whole countenance. He took the little thing in his arms, and, with the mother's help, undressed her, and looked to her wounds. The tears flowed down his face as he did so. With tender hands he bound them up, kissed the pale cheek, and gave her back to her mother. When he went home, all his tale would be of the grief and joy of the parents; while to me, who had looked on, the gracious countenance of the armed man, beaming from the panoply of steel, over the seemingly dead child, while the powerful hands turned it and shifted it, and bound it, if possible even more gently than the mother's, formed the centre of the story.
After we had partaken of the best they could give us, the knight took his leave, with a few parting instructions to the mother as to how she should treat the child.
I brought the knight his steed, held the stirrup while he mounted, and then followed him through the wood. The horse, delighted to be free of his hideous load, bounded beneath the weight of man and armour, and could hardly be restrained from galloping on. But the knight made him time his powers to mine, and so we went on for an hour or two. Then the knight dismounted, and compelled me to get into the saddle, saying: "Knight and squire must share the labour."
Holding by the stirrup, he walked along by my side, heavily clad as he was, with apparent ease. As we went, he led a conversation, in which I took what humble part my sense of my condition would permit me.
Somehow or other," said he, "notwithstanding the beauty of this country of Faerie, in which we are, there is much that is wrong in it. If there are great splendours, there are corresponding horrors; heights and depths; beautiful women and awful fiends; noble men and weaklings. All a man has to do, is to better what he can. And if he will settle it with himself, that even renown and success are in themselves of no great value, and be content to be defeated, if so be that the fault is not his; and so go to his work with a cool brain and a strong will, he will get it done; and fare none the worse in the end, that he was not burdened with provision and precaution."
But he will not always come off well," I ventured to say.
Perhaps not," rejoined the knight, "in the individual act; but the result of his lifetime will content him."
So it will fare with you, doubtless," thought I; "but for me---"
Venturing to resume the conversation after a pause, I said, hesitatingly:
May I ask for what the little beggar-girl wanted your aid, when she came to your castle to find you?"
He looked at me for a moment in silence, and then said--
I cannot help wondering how you know of that; but there is something about you quite strange enough to entitle you to the privilege of the country; namely, to go unquestioned. I, however, being only a man, such as you see me, am ready to tell you anything you like to ask me, as far as I can. The little beggar-girl came into the hall where I was sitting, and told me a very curious story, which I can only recollect very vaguely, it was so peculiar. What I can recall is, that she was sent to gather wings. As soon as she had gathered a pair of wings for herself, she was to fly away, she said, to the country she came from; but where that was, she could give no information.
She said she had to beg her wings from the butterflies and moths; and wherever she begged, no one refused her. But she needed a great many of the wings of butterflies and moths to make a pair for her; and so she had to wander about day after day, looking for butterflies, and night after night, looking for moths; and then she begged for their wings. But the day before, she had come into a part of the forest, she said, where there were multitudes of splendid butterflies flitting about, with wings which were just fit to make the eyes in the shoulders of hers; and she knew she could have as many of them as she liked for the asking; but as soon as she began to beg, there came a great creature right up to her, and threw her down, and walked over her. When she got up, she saw the wood was full of these beings stalking about, and seeming to have nothing to do with each other. As soon as ever she began to beg, one of them walked over her; till at last in dismay, and in growing horror of the senseless creatures, she had run away to look for somebody to help her. I asked her what they were like. She said, like great men, made of wood, without knee-or elbow-joints, and without any noses or mouths or eyes in their faces. I laughed at the little maiden, thinking she was making child's game of me; but, although she burst out laughing too, she persisted in asserting the truth of her story.
Only come, knight, come and see; I will lead you.'
So I armed myself, to be ready for anything that might happen, and followed the child; for, though I could make nothing of her story, I could see she was a little human being in need of some help or other. As she walked before me, I looked attentively at her. Whether or not it was from being so often knocked down and walked over, I could not tell, but her clothes were very much torn, and in several places her white skin was peeping through. I thought she was hump-backed; but on looking more closely, I saw, through the tatters of her frock--do not laugh at me--a bunch on each shoulder, of the most gorgeous colours. Looking yet more closely, I saw that they were of the shape of folded wings, and were made of all kinds of butterfly-wings and moth-wings, crowded together like the feathers on the individual butterfly pinion; but, like them, most beautifully arranged, and producing a perfect harmony of colour and shade. I could now more easily believe the rest of her story; especially as I saw, every now and then, a certain heaving motion in the wings, as if they longed to be uplifted and outspread. But beneath her scanty garments complete wings could not be concealed, and indeed, from her own story, they were yet unfinished.
After walking for two or three hours (how the little girl found her way, I could not imagine), we came to a part of the forest, the very air of which was quivering with the motions of multitudes of resplendent butterflies; as gorgeous in colour, as if the eyes of peacocks' feathers had taken to flight, but of infinite variety of hue and form, only that the appearance of some kind of eye on each wing predominated. 'There they are, there they are!' cried the child, in a tone of victory mingled with terror. Except for this tone, I should have thought she referred to the butterflies, for I could see nothing else. But at that moment an enormous butterfly, whose wings had great eyes of blue surrounded by confused cloudy heaps of more dingy colouring, just like a break in the clouds on a stormy day towards evening, settled near us. The child instantly began murmuring: 'Butterfly, butterfly, give me your wings'; when, the moment after, she fell to the ground, and began crying as if hurt. I drew my sword and heaved a great blow in the direction in which the child had fallen. It struck something, and instantly the most grotesque imitation of a man became visible. You see this Fairy Land is full of oddities and all sorts of incredibly ridiculous things, which a man is compelled to meet and treat as real existences, although all the time he feels foolish for doing so. This being, if being it could be called, was like a block of wood roughly hewn into the mere outlines of a man; and hardly so, for it had but head, body, legs, and arms--the head without a face, and the limbs utterly formless. I had hewn off one of its legs, but the two portions moved on as best they could, quite independent of each other; so that I had done no good. I ran after it, and clove it in twain from the head downwards; but it could not be convinced that its vocation was not to walk over people; for, as soon as the little girl began her begging again, all three parts came bustling up; and if I had not interposed my weight between her and them, she would have been trampled again under them. I saw that something else must be done. If the wood was full of the creatures, it would be an endless work to chop them so small that they could do no injury; and then, besides, the parts would be so numerous, that the butterflies would be in danger from the drift of flying chips. I served this one so, however; and then told the girl to beg again, and point out the direction in which one was coming. I was glad to find, however, that I could now see him myself, and wondered how they could have been invisible before. I would not allow him to walk over the child; but while I kept him off, and she began begging again, another appeared; and it was all I could do, from the weight of my armour, to protect her from the stupid, persevering efforts of the two. But suddenly the right plan occurred to me. I tripped one of them up, and, taking him by the legs, set him up on his head, with his heels against a tree. I was delighted to find he could not move.
Meantime the poor child was walked over by the other, but it was for the last time. Whenever one appeared, I followed the same plan--tripped him up and set him on his head; and so the little beggar was able to gather her wings without any trouble, which occupation she continued for several hours in my company."
What became of her?" I asked.
I took her home with me to my castle, and she told me all her story; but it seemed to me, all the time, as if I were hearing a child talk in its sleep. I could not arrange her story in my mind at all, although it seemed to leave hers in some certain order of its own. My wife---"
Here the knight checked himself, and said no more. Neither did I urge the conversation farther.
Thus we journeyed for several days, resting at night in such shelter as we could get; and when no better was to be had, lying in the forest under some tree, on a couch of old leaves.
I loved the knight more and more. I believe never squire served his master with more care and joyfulness than I. I tended his horse; I cleaned his armour; my skill in the craft enabled me to repair it when necessary; I watched his needs; and was well repaid for all by the love itself which I bore him.
This," I said to myself, "is a true man. I will serve him, and give him all worship, seeing in him the imbodiment of what I would fain become. If I cannot be noble myself, I will yet be servant to his nobleness." He, in return, soon showed me such signs of friendship and respect, as made my heart glad; and I felt that, after all, mine would be no lost life, if I might wait on him to the world's end, although no smile but his should greet me, and no one but him should say, "Well done! he was a good servant!" at last. But I burned to do something more for him than the ordinary routine of a squire's duty permitted.
One afternoon, we began to observe an appearance of roads in the wood. Branches had been cut down, and openings made, where footsteps had worn no path below. These indications increased as we passed on, till, at length, we came into a long, narrow avenue, formed by felling the trees in its line, as the remaining roots evidenced. At some little distance, on both hands, we observed signs of similar avenues, which appeared to converge with ours, towards one spot. Along these we indistinctly saw several forms moving, which seemed, with ourselves, to approach the common centre. Our path brought us, at last, up to a wall of yew-trees, growing close together, and intertwining their branches so, that nothing could be seen beyond it. An opening was cut in it like a door, and all the wall was trimmed smooth and perpendicular. The knight dismounted, and waited till I had provided for his horse's comfort; upon which we entered the place together.
It was a great space, bare of trees, and enclosed by four walls of yew, similar to that through which we had entered. These trees grew to a very great height, and did not divide from each other till close to the top, where their summits formed a row of conical battlements all around the walls. The space contained was a parallelogram of great length. Along each of the two longer sides of the interior, were ranged three ranks of men, in white robes, standing silent and solemn, each with a sword by his side, although the rest of his costume and bearing was more priestly than soldierly. For some distance inwards, the space between these opposite rows was filled with a company of men and women and children, in holiday attire. The looks of all were directed inwards, towards the further end. Far beyond the crowd, in a long avenue, seeming to narrow in the distance, went the long rows of the white-robed men. On what the attention of the multitude was fixed, we could not tell, for the sun had set before we arrived, and it was growing dark within. It grew darker and darker. The multitude waited in silence. The stars began to shine down into the enclosure, and they grew brighter and larger every moment. A wind arose, and swayed the pinnacles of the tree-tops; and made a strange sound, half like music, half like moaning, through the close branches and leaves of the tree-walls. A young girl who stood beside me, clothed in the same dress as the priests, bowed her head, and grew pale with awe.
The knight whispered to me, "How solemn it is! Surely they wait to hear the voice of a prophet. There is something good near!"
But I, though somewhat shaken by the feeling expressed by my master, yet had an unaccountable conviction that here was something bad. So I resolved to be keenly on the watch for what should follow.
Suddenly a great star, like a sun, appeared high in the air over the temple, illuminating it throughout; and a great song arose from the men in white, which went rolling round and round the building, now receding to the end, and now approaching, down the other side, the place where we stood. For some of the singers were regularly ceasing, and the next to them as regularly taking up the song, so that it crept onwards with gradations produced by changes which could not themselves be detected, for only a few of those who were singing ceased at the same moment. The song paused; and I saw a company of six of the white-robed men walk up the centre of the human avenue, surrounding a youth gorgeously attired beneath his robe of white, and wearing a chaplet of flowers on his head. I followed them closely, with my keenest observation; and, by accompanying their slow progress with my eyes, I was able to perceive more clearly what took place when they arrived at the other end. I knew that my sight was so much more keen than that of most people, that I had good reason to suppose I should see more than the rest could, at such a distance. At the farther end a throne stood upon a platform, high above the heads of the surrounding priests. To this platform I saw the company begin to ascend, apparently by an inclined plane or gentle slope. The throne itself was elevated again, on a kind of square pedestal, to the top of which led a flight of steps. On the throne sat a majestic-looking figure, whose posture seemed to indicate a mixture of pride and benignity, as he looked down on the multitude below. The company ascended to the foot of the throne, where they all kneeled for some minutes; then they rose and passed round to the side of the pedestal upon which the throne stood. Here they crowded close behind the youth, putting him in the foremost place, and one of them opened a door in the pedestal, for the youth to enter. I was sure I saw him shrink back, and those crowding behind pushed him in. Then, again, arose a burst of song from the multitude in white, which lasted some time. When it ceased, a new company of seven commenced its march up the centre. As they advanced, I looked up at my master: his noble countenance was full of reverence and awe. Incapable of evil himself, he could scarcely suspect it in another, much less in a multitude such as this, and surrounded with such appearances of solemnity. I was certain it was the really grand accompaniments that overcame him; that the stars overhead, the dark towering tops of the yew-trees, and the wind that, like an unseen spirit, sighed through their branches, bowed his spirit to the belief, that in all these ceremonies lay some great mystical meaning which, his humility told him, his ignorance prevented him from understanding.
More convinced than before, that there was evil here, I could not endure that my master should be deceived; that one like him, so pure and noble, should respect what, if my suspicions were true, was worse than the ordinary deceptions of priestcraft. I could not tell how far he might be led to countenance, and otherwise support their doings, before he should find cause to repent bitterly of his error. I watched the new procession yet more keenly, if possible, than the former. This time, the central figure was a girl; and, at the close, I observed, yet more indubitably, the shrinking back, and the crowding push. What happened to the victims, I never learned; but I had learned enough, and I could bear it no longer. I stooped, and whispered to the young girl who stood by me, to lend me her white garment. I wanted it, that I might not be entirely out of keeping with the solemnity, but might have at least this help to passing unquestioned. She looked up, half-amused and half-bewildered, as if doubting whether I was in earnest or not. But in her perplexity, she permitted me to unfasten it, and slip it down from her shoulders.
I easily got possession of it; and, sinking down on my knees in the crowd, I rose apparently in the habit of one of the worshippers.
Giving my battle-axe to the girl, to hold in pledge for the return of her stole, for I wished to test the matter unarmed, and, if it was a man that sat upon the throne, to attack him with hands bare, as I supposed his must be, I made my way through the crowd to the front, while the singing yet continued, desirous of reaching the platform while it was unoccupied by any of the priests. I was permitted to walk up the long avenue of white robes unmolested, though I saw questioning looks in many of the faces as I passed. I presume my coolness aided my passage; for I felt quite indifferent as to my own fate; not feeling, after the late events of my history, that I was at all worth taking care of; and enjoying, perhaps, something of an evil satisfaction, in the revenge I was thus taking upon the self which had fooled me so long. When I arrived on the platform, the song had just ceased, and I felt as if all were looking towards me. But instead of kneeling at its foot, I walked right up the stairs to the throne, laid hold of a great wooden image that seemed to sit upon it, and tried to hurl it from its seat. In this I failed at first, for I found it firmly fixed. But in dread lest, the first shock of amazement passing away, the guards would rush upon me before I had effected my purpose, I strained with all my might; and, with a noise as of the cracking, and breaking, and tearing of rotten wood, something gave way, and I hurled the image down the steps. Its displacement revealed a great hole in the throne, like the hollow of a decayed tree, going down apparently a great way. But I had no time to examine it, for, as I looked into it, up out of it rushed a great brute, like a wolf, but twice the size, and tumbled me headlong with itself, down the steps of the throne. As we fell, however, I caught it by the throat, and the moment we reached the platform, a struggle commenced, in which I soon got uppermost, with my hand upon its throat, and knee upon its heart. But now arose a wild cry of wrath and revenge and rescue. A universal hiss of steel, as every sword was swept from its scabbard, seemed to tear the very air in shreds. I heard the rush of hundreds towards the platform on which I knelt. I only tightened my grasp of the brute's throat. His eyes were already starting from his head, and his tongue was hanging out. My anxious hope was, that, even after they had killed me, they would be unable to undo my gripe of his throat, before the monster was past breathing. I therefore threw all my will, and force, and purpose, into the grasping hand. I remember no blow. A faintness came over me, and my consciousness departed. (to be continued)
Springhill Hollyhocks Photos byBob Kirchman
Every Summer they appear!, remnants of a garden planted long ago that continue to brighten the drive into Staunton along Churchville Avenue. What a great living legacy for a gardener!
Tolkien: Maker of Middle Earth is the new show at The Morgan Library in Manhattan. It’s a charming tribute to J.R.R Tolkien (1892‒1973), the Oxford professor best known for writing The Hobbit, in 1937, and The Lord of the Rings, the high-fantasy novels published in three volumes in 1954 and 1955. The Lord of the Rings, in which Tolkien constructed an astonishing and elaborate world of heroes, villains, adventure, pursuit, and peril, is one of English literature’s most widely read novels. (read more)
Staunton Mall Renaissance A New Vision for an Older Mall
Concept Development by Bob Kirchman
Strong anchor stores position the mall for future vitality...
...as the central mall becomes a place for concerts, tea dances...
...and a lively expression of Staunton's community life!
The large open spaces...
...now invite a variety of recreational options in all seasons.
Existing spaces can become more inviting...
...through invigorating design.
The attractiveness of the space is increased...
...by a phased opening out of the retail units to meet today's demands.
I'll bet if I asked you to think of some different types of ministry and ways to build the Kingdom of G-d, you probably wouldn't think of Economic Development. Pastor Tim Keller, in his book: Resources for Deacons, sees it clearly as a part of the Diaconal ministry. Our church helps women in Zambia get sewing machines. To be sure, the gift of the ability to earn their living as seamstresses is an act of ministry to these ladies.
But think bigger! THYME presents the story of how a nation turned from a great evil and one city suffered greatly in doing so. G-d provided a provider! Then G-d provided provision for the provider by inspiring great innovation that came to revitalize that great city. Should we dare to pray for such innovation and inspiration in our own day?
They say that the condition for a miracle is difficulty, but the condition for a great miracle is impossibility” -- Angus Buchan, “G-d's Farmer”
When William Wilberforce[1.] had ended the slave trade in the British Empire, he had thrown the city of Bristol, England into economic depression. The port there was heavily devoted to that wretched business and suffered heavily when it was brought to a sudden halt. The unintended consequence had been a rise in children condemned to a life of poverty. Ending the vile business of enslaving Africa's children had resulting in England's society spurning the needs of her own. Into this world came George Müller[2.], who, relying on faith in G-d alone, provided redemption for thousands of orphans. Many of these children were cast-offs of a society in economic despair.
George Müller [3.] had seen the wretched street urchins most people despised as jewels to be polished. Muller, relying solely on Divine provision, built five large houses for Orphans at Ashley Downs in Bristol, England. He trained the girls to be nurses, teachers, clerical workers and domestics. He apprenticed all the boys in various trades. He was excoriated for training these unwanted children "above their station." He ignored the critics.
Müller looked to G-d alone, but Bristol needed an outfowing of Divine provision to provide for her children. G-d's provision for Bristol was to come in the form of inspiration and innovation, embodied in the work of a young pioneer of civil engineering. He also ignored his critics.
Brunel's Clifton Suspension Bridge became the symbol of the City of Bristol.
Building the Great Western Railway.
In 1831, 24 year old Isambard Kingdom Brunel[4.] was awarded a contract to bridge the Avon Gorge. It was the dream of a prosperous wine merchant who provided the initial funding. The completed bridge would become the symbol of the city, but lack of funding dogged the project. It took thirty years to complete it. For years only the towers stood completed. In 1833 Brunel began work on the Great Western Railway, which would become the instrument of Bristol's economic revitalization. The nicknames: "Great Way Round" and "G-d's Wonderful Railway" seem to describe well Brunel's great work.
Brunel was an innovator. He probably experienced as many failures as successes in his short lifetime.Born on April 9, 1806, the son of Sir Marc Brunel, he assisted his father in building a tunnel under the Thames. He would later become the resident engineer of that project. At twenty years of age, he designed a suspension bridge to cross the Avon river. A modified version of his plan was actually constructed.
At 26, Brunel was building the Great Western Railway, commissioned to maintain Bristol's importance as a port and position her for trade with America. This wide-gauge railroad linked Bristol and Western regions of England to London. Bristol's prosperity as a port was assured and the work of Müller created solid citizens with strong spiritual foundations to benefit.
But Brunel was not content to simply build a better railway. He looked across the Atlantic, envisioning fleets of ocean greyhounds -- great steamships that would complete the linking of his Great Western Railway to America! The S. S. Great Britain was his creation. It was the first metal-hulled propeller-driven ocean ship and became the prototype for modern ocean liners.
Building the South Devon Railway as a spur to the Great Western, Brunel experimented with an alternative to steam engines -- Vacuum tube powered trains. Stationary vacuum plants evacuated tubes laid along the center of the track that powered the movement of trains.
Brunel's 'Atmospheric Railway.'
The technology required the use of leather flaps to seal the vacuum pipes. The natural oils were drawn out of the leather by the vacuum, making the leather vulnerable to water, rotting it and breaking the fibres when it froze. It had to be kept supple with tallow, which is attractive to rats. The flaps were eaten, and vacuum operation lasted less than a year, from 1847 (experimental service began in September; operations from February 1848) to 10 September 1848.[45] It has been suggested that the whole project was an expensive flop. In Brunel's favour, it has been noted that he had the courage to call a halt to the venture instead of struggling on with it at greater cost." -- Wikipedia
Like alternative transportation prototypes of our day, the vacuum tube system was more expensive. The accounts of the SDR for 1848 show that atmospheric traction cost
3s 1d (three shillings and one penny) per mile compared to 1s 4d/mile
for conventional steam power.Though considered a failure at the time, vacuum powered trains may have been a distant precursor to Evacuated Tube Technology [5.] which is now being developed to move entire transport capsules through large tubes -- essentially powered in the same way as Brunel's South Devon train. Brunel was simply two Centuries before his time on this.
What can we learn from Brunel today? Plenty! Inspiration and innovation are needed now as they were needed then. Brunel teaches us valuable lessons about expanding vision with proven technologies and wisely exploring alternatives (and abandoning them when they do not work as planned).
Praying people see the diaconate role of economic development as an integral part of G-d's provision. In “Resources for Deacons, Love Expressed Through Mercy Ministries,”[6.] Tim Keller states his belief in three “levels” of mercy in diaconal ministry:
The first Level Is Simple Relief: That is taking care of the immediate need.
The Second Level Is Economic Development: That is teaching the poor how to get out of poverty by teaching them how to handle money, property, etc. and furnishing them with the means to do so. “Not handouts, but ownership is the way to break the cycle of poverty.”
The Third Level Is Social Reform: Christians should be involved in the culture in an effort to change the social structure.
We see it very localized in a place like Zambia, where people of faith instruct widows to become seamstresses (and people in America gift them with sewing machines). But, can we believe G-d for ever greater inspiration? What vision would G-d give us for our family, our company of employment, our city and county... and beyond? Müller said "the age of miracles is not past."Angus Buchan [7.], in the turmoil of Zambia and South Africa, looked to G-d for inspiration. G-d met him in a corn field where he learned the power of prayer!
Buchan had packed his family up during the unrest in Zambia in the late 'seventies and moved them to South Africa. A successful farmer in Zambia, he felt that he would be happy if he could acquire another farm in South Africa. It didn't. Experiencing deep depression, Buchan was angry and confused. Wandering into a lay-witness Sunday at the local Methodist Church, Angus heard builders, tradesmen and fellow farmers tell of what Jesus meant in their lives. For the first time he saw men crying, he wept unashamedly himself as he responded to an altar call. He took the Lord seriously about the changed life promise.
Buchan went back to his farm and learned to pray in his own corn field. Then he sought to minister to his Zulu workers. His farm manager, Simeon Bhengu, told him: "that's women's religion..." But G-d met Angus and spoke through his friendship with Simeon. Today the men are brothers in faith and brothers in every way. "My children are his and his are mine." Angus says of his Zulu brother. Angus expanded his farming operations and G-d's miraculous provision was seen at every turn. The movie "Faith like Potatoes" is the true story of Angus Buchan and it is quite inspiring! Buchan used machinery but avoided totally mechanizing the farm, looking to provide steady employment to his Zulu neighbors.
In the early 1980's Buchan became aware of a new tragic development. AIDS was ravaging families and creating untold numbers of orphans. Buchan reached out to these orphans but had no place to house them. A local school had temporary classrooms they were going to demolish and Angus received permission to take them apart and reassemble them at Shalom, which he had named his complex at the farm. At first the children lived in dormitories but gradually Angus was able to create "houses" where one "mother" cared for a smaller number.
South Africa in her recent history has experienced much uncertainty and Buchan's experience is instructive as we look to address the turmoil in our own country today. Isambard Kingdom Brunel should serve as an inspiration as well.
Let no man despise thy youth; but be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity." -- 1 Timothy 4:12
Volume XVI, Issue XIVc
Happy Birthday I. K. Brunel
On the birthday ofIsambard Kingdom Brunel, it is said that light shines all the way through his Box Tunnel on the Great Western Railway. Painting by Bob Kirchman.
Volume XVI, Issue XIVd
The Reckless Engineer Short Story by Bob Kirchman
And all the people without dreams Oh they laughed and oh they mocked in vain You never needed monuments Look at the Cornish sky and Bristol gorges”
-- Coast, ‘The Reckless Engineer’
Better drink up” the bartender said. “This is the last pub in the Western Hemisphere. Diomedes are dry and there’s only cheap vodka for 2000 miles after that.” The young couple, who were staying at the hotel complex in Wales, AK, were anxious about the next phase of their ‘Around the World’ tour. There was only an older gentleman sitting there with them in a corner of the room… nursing a gin and tonic as he sat musing. “He might be able to tell us,” the young woman opined.
Sure enough, the question as to the unusual name of the establishment caught his attention.
The Reckless Engineer... hmmmm, where do I begin. Well, the reference is to a gentleman who lived in the Nineteenth Century. He was Isambard Kingdom Brunel. Most people in the New World don’t have a clue, but the Brits revere him. He basically built the modern infrastructure of a great empire… railroads, tunnels, bridges, and great ocean-going ships! But it was a tunnel that almost killed him before his time.”
His father, Mark Brunel was a French expat and an inventor. He came up with a method of tunneling underwater and set to work to prove it by tunneling under the Thames. It still exists. It is part of the London Underground, but it was a daring move in the day it was built. The biggest problem was the uncertain composition of the earth under the river. It had been dredged and had unmapped holes in it. The younger Brunel was in charge of a crew excavating the bore and when water rushed into the tunnel, he was almost swept to a certain death. His assistant, a Mr. Beamish, plucked the young man to safety. Several colleagues who were with him were not so fortunate. They drowned in the rush of river water and sewage that flooded the tunnel.
Young Isambard went to the seacoast city of Bristol to recuperate. But he was not the sort to relax on holiday so he entered a competition to design a bridge to span the Avon Gorge there. Mind you, he’d never designed a bridge in his life, but he came up with several beautiful renderings for a suspension bridge over the gorge. Britain’s great engineer, Thomas Telford was to judge the contest. He rejected all of the entries and supmitted his own proposal. The people of Bristol hated it. In the end, Brunel’s beautiful design was chosen. The gorge was high and Brunel built a cable ferry to transport men and materials across it. Once when the basket snagged on the cable, young Isambard climbed out of the basket and hung precariously while he freed the mechanism. There is a pub in Bristol by the railway station that was the first to be named ‘The Reckless Engineer.’”
But why is this place, at the end of the world, also named ‘The Reckless Engineer’?” the young woman asked.
The Twenty-first Century was not so much unlike the Nineteenth,” the old man said. “After a period of great prosperity followed by great uncertainty, another engineer, perhaps not so young stood on the coast of Wales here, about to embark on the project that linked two continents. I’ll tell you a secret… HE’d never designed a bridge either. His Daughter and her husband provided most of the brain power for the actual design. The team of O’Malley and O’Malley are the real force behind the great bridge. Rupert Zimmerman was more of a showman. He convinced investors to back what was then a rather audacious undertaking. His daughter Elizabeth created beautiful renderings following the design laid out by her more practical husband.
And so, camped on the shore right where this hotel stands, Zimmerman and Martin O’Malley camped to survey the scene of their great work. If you go to the cheesy ‘Rupert Zimmerman Museum’ here in Wales, they’ll tell you how they heroically survived a fire that destroyed their tent and their provisions. They used their survival training to last the week there and returned to Nome as something of a sensation… but that is not the true story. O’Malley and Zimmerman stood on the shore of the Strait, drinking prodigious quantities of their favorite beer as they toasted their new venture.
They decided to go for a swim in the Strait. They didn’t think about how cold the water was and when they fumbled to build a fire they succeeded in burning up their tent!”
So, what about the part about him being in the war and all… what really happened there?”
Well, he really did lose a leg fighting in the battle of Anchorage and he went to Nome to recuperate. He idea for the great bridge came to him there and as his daughter came to Nome to care for him, she really did meet and marry O’Malley. They get that part right.”
And the part about him riding out the great storm on the partially built span?”
True as well, but I think Zimmerman really believed in the cable anchoring system and the pontoon span’s integrity. Soon enough the motoring public would be trusting the same system… not really as heroic as they make it out to be.”
And his childhood, hopping freight trains and all…”
Can’t deny it. I don’t think he was as brave as they make him out to be. Still, we’d all agree that he had a pretty amazing life.”
So, what’s next for him. The bridge just opened this past November. Now you can actually drive to Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s England on a highway. What does a man like that do… I guess he can retire and take life easy. Say, is it true that Brunel and Zimmerman were both short in stature and somehow driven by insecurity about it?”
I can’t speak personally for Brunel but I think you pretty well nailed it.”
The night passed quickly. The old man was a repository for so much information about the bridge and its construction. But he asked the young couple to tell their story as well. They somewhat nervously said that they had decided to embark on this adventure but that they had applied to the School of Engineering and Operations run by the Zimmerman organization in Wales. “I doubt if we have a shot at it, but we had to give it a try.” the young woman added. We met at Virginia Tech and discovered that we were more like this Brunel… reckless and all, than most of our colleagues. Sir, are you familiar at all with the school here?”
Oh, I know a thing or two about it.” The old man replied.
Is it true that they went back to the old bench-test and physical model methods from the old U.S. Space Program?” “Yes, it is true, and when you are there you will study these methods as well.”
The evening was growing late. The young woman remarked that she wished it possible that they could somehow find a way to get a ‘hard hat’ tour of the new biosphere being built on Big Diomede the next morning. “We’re staying here several days.” I don’t know who would be able to arrange that. If we could afford it, we’d be happy to pay.”
The old man wrote a phone number on a cocktail napkin and handed it to her. “Call this number in the morning, and depending on how long you are here for, you could see the new biosphere and some of the inner workings of the bridge as well.”
Oh, thank you so much! We’ll call first thing in the morning. You know we’d love to see as much as they are willing to show us! Say, who should we ask for, Mr… oh, I’m so sorry, I never learned YOUR name?”
Rupert,” the man responded, “Rupert Zimmerman, and I am quite pleased to meet you both.” *********
You built the railroads from the West You built the ships from iron ore and All of your bridges never rest But without love they're nothing more”
-- Coast, ‘The Reckless Engineer’
Rain, Steam and Speed - The Great Western Railway, by J. M. W. Turner. 1843
John and Alana (for that is the young couple’s names) arrived early the next morning at the offices of the Zimmerman Organization high in a tower overlooking the Strait. They were ushered into the reception area by a lovely young lady who had a distinct sparkle in her mischievous green eyes. “Hello, I’m Hannah,” she greeted them. “Mr. Zimmerman will be with you momentarily, but would you like some coffee?” “Uh, sure,” the young couple responded as Rupert’s receptionist zipped around the corner of her ample desk, grabbed a tray and dispensed their choices of beverage and placed it on a table by their chairs.
Please excuse my zipping about. My ‘Bionic’ leggings are being retuned today so I’m back in the chair for a bit. If you’d like, we could show you a bit of the research lab before you take the grand tour.” Alana’s eyes grew wide. “I’ve heard many amazing things about the lab. I would LOVE to see it!” She remembered the wonderful story of how Alexander Graham Bell had begun his research with the effort to give sound to the deaf. Here in the remotest part of the world, his legacy continued. “The lady who developed the assistive leggings and I work closely together,” said Hannah. “What is really cool is how they are truly assistive. They do nothing FOR me, but rather provide a little extra steam and steadiness to MY walking. You will see some amazing things happening here… artificial sight for the blind, direct transfer of sound to nerves, and a whole new level of prosthetics.”
We would love to see as much as you are willing to show us,” said John, “We are in no great hurry to venture off into Siberia.”
Good,” because we have three days worth of tour if you’d like it!”
This is what I call the ‘Labyrinth of Exile’” Zimmerman began as they walked through the tower’s endless corridors. “It’s named after a biography of Theodor Herzl, Father of the modern state of Israel, from where many of our brightest researchers hail from.” Indeed the small nation was well represented, as was most of the rest of the world in the serious faces that greeted them over the course of the next three hours. Zimmerman was clearly delighted to introduce every one of them, like the cherished family he considered them to be. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking me any less than the tough old bird you’ve heard me to be. I crack the whip around here!” “Yes Papa, you do,” said a young woman in white coveralls and a hard hat. She had slipped up behind them, placing herself deliberately behind the old man’s back… he feigned displeasure at her looking over his shoulder, but his face betrayed a deep love for the young lady.
Well, I suppose you should meet my GRANDDAUGHTER,” he said somewhat in a feigned disparaging way. “She will be with us tomorrow when we tour the great bridge, but today I wonder if she would be willing to show you our design rooms?”
On the boards were two great designs for covered entrances to the great bridge. If the bridge was spare and functional, the approach covers were anything but. They were drawn in the style of Santiago Calatrava, the great bridge architect. Zimmerman called them “Paddington Station” and “Temple Meade” after the great trainsheds of Nineteenth Century designer Isambard Kingdom Brunel. “We sort of specialize in ‘reckless engineering’ here,” he said. Zimmerman’s granddaughter chimed in: “Calatrava’s genius was that he saw the design disciplines as one and that the wonder of living things could guide you in it. Papa sent me to study under him for a while.”
Calatrava built bridges, buildings, even children’s toys, but his mind was the same in all of these disciplines. Nature, if you were quiet and observed it, was your true teacher.”
*********
All of the Reckless Engineer has gone
And where now does heart and soul beat
in the city sky?” -- Coast, ‘The Reckless Engineer’
Le Pont de Chatou, Pierre Auguste Renoir
A bridge is a complex machine… or perhaps more like a living organism in that it moves and needs to be constantly renewed,” Rupert said as the little group entered the service stairway down into one of the great span’s floating piers. “In the Twentieth Century, great public works were authorized, heavily funded by the U. S. Federal government. In fact, they had a 90% match to 10% state funds. They did think of maintenance, it was supposed to have been funded by fuel taxes… but with the initial outlay for the bridges being so relatively cheap, it became all too easy for politicians to divert the funds that were supposed to be allocated for ongoing maintenance.
Fifty years after the great interstate highways were begun, an appalling percentage of the bridges on it were in questionable condition. Some of them actually failed outright.”
Alana and John soaked in the vast history of modern bridge building. Surely it was comforting to know that the operators of this bridge had learned some lessons from the past. Their tour had begun on the next morning… Saturday, but since they were on the International Date Line, the designation on operations calendars was Saturday/Sunday. Zimmerman had met them at the operations tower, beginning with the scores of monitor screens that allowed operations technicians to watch over the workings of Zimmerman’s ‘Darling Bridge,’ as he called it. That was a reference to Brunel’s affection for the Clifton Gorge span more than an infatuation of Rupert’s however.
Where is Hannah?” Alana asked? “Oh,” said Rupert, “She’s off today, but I suspect we’ll see her when we stop for lunch at the Big Diomede site.” I think she was going to paint landscapes with Mrs. Greene after church there today if the weather was nice.”
Sure enough, after a morning of ascending and descending into towers, piers and passageways, the entourage emerged on the large island in the middle of the strait to a balmy afternoon. The brief tundra flower explosion was brightly covering the wild plateau of Big Diomede and there overlooking the colorful display and the sea beyond, two women stood at easels painting en plein air. They looked like a Renoir painting themselves standing upon the verdant island. The wildness of this place dwarfed even the massive biosphere dome under construction. There was a raw beauty to this place and the timeless figures who painted it only added to its mystique. Under the freshly constructed dome a small lone house rose. Workmen were putting the finishing touches on it.
Rather than eat at the service plaza, I thought we’d prepare a nice picnic supper,” Mrs. Greene said after introductions. They were soon joined by Reverend Greene and Elizabeth Zimmerman O’Malley, Rupert’s daughter. It seemed like a fine Southern ‘dinner on the grounds,’ which indeed it was the remnants of, as it was Sunday on Big Diomede and the little church that met in the service plaza meeting room had indeed enjoyed such a feast earlier in the day. It was like a warm breeze from another Century… indeed even the driven Zimmerman seemed to slow down for it. John was impressed: “I did not expect food like I grew up on in… SIBERIA!” he exclaimed as he enjoyed a portion of macaroni and cheese that gained him a scornful glance from Alana, the health nut. But even she was obviously reveling in a bit of home so far from home.
Tomorrow I will give you the full tour.” Said Elizabeth, but today we will continue on with the inner workings of the great bridge. “Tonight,” Hannah said, “I would love for you to be my dinner guests at my condo in Wales. Would you?”
The day ended with the sun low in the sky and the last descent into a bridge pier where Rupert opened a hatch. His granddaughter smiled: “You’re showing them the fishing spot!” she happily exclaimed. Indeed they found rods and a small catwalk outside the hatch where they cast for some nice ocean fish. “We’ll cook them up at Hannah’s place,” Rupert said. “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you as this blasted cell phone is now giving me the message that we have an issue with the bridge seals in sector 217. I’m afraid I’ll have to set up a work zone tonight.
Indeed the dinner group shrunk to John, Alana, Elizabeth and Hannah. As they gathered in her condominium, Elizabeth took a call. The work on the seals was going badly. She excused herself. “My father will kill himself for his ‘darling bridge’ if I don’t go out to take some of the load off. Thankfully some of his senior guys have his back and call me like this.”
Tell me about the biosphere,” said Alana. “I just KNOW there is a story behind it.” Hannah looked about, walked over to her door and locked it. Slowly and deliberately she began: “When Mr. Z started this project, he was a pretty brash, no nonsense sort of ruthless industrialist. He ‘reaped where others sowed’ if you know what I mean. There is something you guys need to know about him. You’re in the program by the way, just don’t breath a word to HIM. I know though… I saw the look of satisfaction on his face when we met the relamping crew on the bridge. Alana, when you did not hesitate to climb up with the bulb… the man was one short, remember… you sealed your fate. I daresay the offer will be coming tomorrow.”
Hannah continued:
Zimmerman is a tough old bird, he fought in the battle of Anchorage and all, but when he began this great work people began to see another side of him. There was a young engineer and surveyor that he took under his wing. They went out to Siberia to lay out the road and discovered that it was like the Wild West out there. Trucks that broke down or wrecked by the side of the road were left there. After the local bandits looted them they set them on fire. Rusted and burning hulks were everywhere.
By the time you could get a recovery truck out there, the deed had already been done. The bandits would pull a driver out of his truck if it stopped out there and kill him.
Well, Mr. Z and this other young man were camped out there with plenty of guards… or so they thought, when they were ambushed and kidnapped. The bandits managed to pick off their security people. They took Mr. Z and his friend captive, knowing there would be big ransom money. When they missed Elizabeth’s frantic response and thought the money was being stalled, they took the young man away. That was the last time Mr. Z saw him alive.
The ransom money finally came and Mr. Z. was returned. When he returned to Wales he immediately organized a group of Alaska National Guard and they travelled back disguised as a road crew. When they got back to the site of the ambush, they discovered that the body of the younger man had been found in a cheap motel room in a trailer motel that was… well… not a nice place. The body was stripped and smelled of vodka. Rupert er I mean Mr. Z knew the man never drank. He was enraged that the perpetrators would sink to creating a sordid story. Zimmerman knew the man’s wife and children.
That was the only time I ever saw Rupert cry, and he wept unashamedly. I knew then that a man I had thought so cold and aloof loved deeply. He could be moved to tears by the loss of a cherished colleague.
He composed himself pretty quickly, however. His men could not get the local authorities to help them find the killers so in the end, in his great anger, he ordered everyone out of the motel buildings at gunpoint and soaked the place with petrol. Then he burned it to the ground. He returned to Wales visibly shaken but back to his old aloof self. He set up a trust for his friend’s widow and children and spoke at the memorial service of his fine service. But he was holding something inside that he couldn’t let go.
The flashbacks returned from his war days. Everyone thinks the reason he’s estranged from his wife Pat is that she doesn’t like cold places. The truth is he wakes up screaming… and he won’t seek help for it. He visits her regularly in Virginia but the truth is HE doesn’t want her here when he falls apart. He won’t let go of his anger and sorrow. I fear it is going to kill him one day!
The biosphere you saw today… its more than an environmental experiment… It is largely the creation of Elizabeth, but you must know that it is Rupert’s true ‘darling’ in that he sees it as an antidote to the “Hell on Wheels” he found across the strait. He claims to have no faith… that pretty much went away in his childhood he says. He ‘survived’ indoctrination by the ‘Sisters of Mercy.’ He says they showed none.
But he knew that his biosphere would be nothing more than glass and steel if it did not have some sort of a soul. That is why he convinced the Greenes to come up here. If you didn’t notice before, see how he lets down his guard in their hospitality. Tomorrow you must see the renderings Elizabeth and Mrs. Greene have prepared for the biosphere. These are not the works of one who merely desires austere efficiency.
Ireally don’t know why I am telling you all this, but I sense that you may indeed be in a position to help him. He allows Elizabeth and his granddaughter to come closer, but I feel like he’s a clock wound too tight… and working in two concurrent times, I fear he’s going to break!”
Summer Landscape, Pierre Auguste Renoir
*********
Iam opposed to the laying down of rules or conditions to be observed in the construction of bridges lest the progress of improvement tomorrow might be embarrassed or shackled by recording or registering as law the prejudices or errors of today.”
-- Isambard K. Brunel
Sunday/Monday dawned early. Hannah greeted John and Alana at Zimmerman headquarters. “Elizabeth will be here in a bit,” she said. “Long night with the bridge seals!” A bleary-eyed Rupert popped out of his office: “How was dinner?” he asked.
Quite nice,” Alana responded, “And how did the work go on the seal problem?”
Zimmerman explained the seal problem… it seems that sustained temperatures combined with heavier stressed connections was taking more of a toll on them than anticipated. “Say John, you’re a materials guy. Would you look at this tech brief and when you get back here this Fall, would you like to have a go at it?”
Does that mean we’ve been accepted for the program then?” He responded. “Sure. Let me read this tonight. My thesis was on something similar with flexible pipe couplings. Maybe we can find a way to take some of the stress off of the seal itself in the meantime.”
Ilike that,” said Rupert. “Most guys just start wanting to remake the seal material straight off. You seem to have another tack. Tell me more.”
Well, sir, it seems the problem is exacerbated by the movement in the bridge. If we could add some sort of a stiffener, we could spread the stress better. I mean, you seem to be experiencing very localized failures at places the bridge moves more than others.”
So, in the minutes before Elizabeth arrived, the young couple had sketched out a pretty interesting clamping system that would spread the flexing evenly along the length of the span. Zimmerman was visibly impressed. “Hey, we could talk about this with your team tomorrow if you’d like.” Alana said. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind.”
When Elizabeth arrived, the congratulations were officially offered. Alana and John would sign on as mentees for their first year. They would be given accommodations and a small stipend until their year-end review, when they would likely be looking at $100K in petrodollars each per year starting salary. Of course, if the seal relief system played out, they would be receiving a bonus for that. Zimmerman, who had seen plenty of his ideas taken by employers with no attribution, had no problem sharing the glory when his own team, even the mentees, made valuable contributions.
But now it was time to head over out to Big Diomede, a half-hour drive West on the bridge. Elizabeth drove John and Alana across the span… but she spoke little. She was tired, sure, but clearly something was on her mind. “I’ve never seen someone get accepted so quickly,” she mused quietly. “You know, John, you remind me of…” she caught herself and was silent for the remainder of the trip. It seemed a long half-hour indeed and when the car finally reached the Big Diomede site, everyone was relieved when Mrs. Greene greeted them. She had worked with Elizabeth in the creation of the Biosphere and sure enough, the renderings of the proposed complex were stunning. It was something out of another Century so far as its craftsmanship and execution. The parsonage was the only building built so far, but it was simple and beautiful; quite a contrast to the prefabricated world of Wales. A lone tree, freshly planted, graced the yard. Nearby there was a footer where stonemasons were laying the first course of a more substantial building. Elizabeth pointed to a painting of a gothic chapel… “A memorial to a man who lost his life in the service of the Zimmerman Organization,” said Mrs. Greene. “The chapel will be home to our church here.”
The biosphere was a fascinating place. Artificial sun-spectrum lighting was being installed along the bars of the geodesic dome which had ionized panels that could be clear for natural light but could be clouded to reflect the light from the lamps down. Huge rigs were drilling down to provide thermal heating. Nursery workers were planting quick growing shrubbery to provide air refreshment inside.
At lunchtime, the Greene’s again hosted what Mrs. Greene referred to as ‘Elevensies.’ This time in their newly finished dining room. “Tell me about the man who the chapel memorializes,” Alana said to Kris Greene as John and Elizabeth were in deep discussion of geothermal piping following their delicious lunch. “Oh,” said Kris, “I myself never knew him… but I understand he was a close friend of Rupert’s. They were working on the Great Western Road alignment in Siberia, I think, when…” Elizabeth interrupted: “I think we’d better get on with our tour now. Thank you, Kris, for your warm hospitality.”
Back at Wales, Elizabeth was summoned by her cell phone… the bridge never ceased to call on her keepers, it seemed. She apologized for her demeanor. “Rough day, it has been,” she said. Hannah was there, eager to show the young couple some of the photos on the wall in the lobby. “Here is the place where we were drilling for oil, but Rupert discovered that the people were all sick for lack of water. Well, he threw a curve-ball into the calculations for the lateral drill. When it gushed not oil, but fresh water, his crew groaned at his ‘mistake,’ but when he capped it the people had a good and steady supply of safe water. Everyone here sort of goes along with the legend that he’s a real cheapskate… but you did see the beginnings of the Big Diomede Chapel, didn’t you. That is not a shabby piece of work at all.”
Rendering by Lola Dalton, 1914, the Author's Grandmother.
Alana spoke: “Do you mind if I ask you, ah, about Mrs. O’Malley; what is it that is troubling her? When we were accepted, I mean, it seemed she has some great reservations or something. Look, we don’t want to come here if you have any doubt that is sincerely based.” Hannah thoughtfully replied: “This is not the time or place, but please come to my place tonight and we’ll talk further. My husband is in the ‘lower 48’ representing our interests in Washington, a thankless part of his job. I’ll be glad when he’s done, but in the meantime it would be wonderful to have some company!”
We don’t say his name here,” Hannah said softly… “Rupert’s colleague who died in the Taiga, but it is clear that he… and his daughter Elizabeth, see the resemblance. He was young, reckless and would go to the ends of the earth… but he had a young family. I would imagine Elizabeth sees her father performing penance, if you will, for the death of his trusted friend. Oh, don’t sweat that. I’ve reviewed your qualifications. You are more than what we require in every way, but I think you will have to deal with the fact that Rupert sees in you an unfinished life. He’s not going to go easy on you, mind you, his granddaughter is the apple of his eye, but he rode her harder than the rest of them. I do not think Elizabeth’s unspoken fears are rational, but fears seldom are.”
So, what shall we do?,” Alana asked.
Idon’t know, really, but I suspect that in time this will prove to be a good thing. You came here prepared to be patient, and the present situation requires plenty of that. Elizabeth is quite protective of her father, and I think she has good reason, but she is fair minded. I think you will prove yourself in the end and you will find her a lovely person to work with. In the meantime, I think it best to avoid discussion of a certain unfortunate occurrence… and of Rupert’s attempt to remember it.”
Rupert Zimmerman awoke that night screaming. He came to himself in a cold sweat and got up and checked the lock on his door. His was the top apartment in the condominiums over the workspaces and Elizabeth and Martin were directly below. He hoped he hadn’t disturbed them, but he knew full well that he had. He didn’t know that Hannah’s apartment, though it was further away, allowed her to be disturbed as well. Rupert Zimmerman was a man who professed no need for the Divine… but in the endless night, as Rupert raised the blinds in the hopes that the midnight sun would free him from his prison, his daughter, son-in-law and his devoted assistant prayed to the God Rupert spurned. Back in Virginia, Pat couldn’t sleep. Rupert weighed heavily on her mind. Thirty miles away from Wales, as a new day began at the end of the world, a young woman took her husband’s hand to pray as well: “I’m concerned for Elizabeth’s father.” She prayed. Though Zimmerman would have scoffed at the very notion, his friends that moment were speaking in unison to that God, pleading for the deliverance that only He could give.
If we must have heroes and wars wherein to make them, there is no war so brilliant as a war with the wrong, no hero so fit to be sung, as he who has gained the bloodless VICTORY of truth and mercy."
-- I. K. Brunel
Serials have existed in fiction for a very long time. Books were expensive back in the 19th century, so they were printed in installments in order to keep the price low. Charles Dickens, often heralded as one of the greatest early self-publishers, was also one of the most successful writers of serialized fiction. Another big name, Alexandre Dumas, was a very prolific serial novelist, publishing both The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers in serial format. In fact, serialization worked so well, it was considered the way to go by popular authors during the time." -- Samantha Warren
THYME Magazine presents, in serial form, the story of a man who challenged the proposition that something he wanted to achieve was "impossible." Based on history, depicted in the future, Pontifus is a tale of human triumph in the face of challenges such as face us today. (read more)
Sunlight reflects from the biosphere domes of Big Diomede in this photograph of the Bering Strait Bridge from space.
The twin spans of the Bering Strait Bridge. The original span (closest) is the Charles Alton Ellis Memorial Bridge. The second span is the Joseph Baermann Strauss Memorial Bridge.
New 'Old' Architecture The Inspiration for the Buildings of Big Diomede
The Church on Big Diomede is based on my painting of the University of Virginia Chapel.
My Grandmother, Lola Dalton Carpenter, designed this window for a stairwell in 1914. I carried it into the Twenty-first Century as a window at the College on Big Diomede.
At the turn of the Century, as the Twentieth Century began, the great world's fairs presented a vision of civic architecture for America's young cities. A beautiful classicism prevailed, inspired by the model of Greek and Roman architecture. As the McMillan Plan transformed Washington DC into a very beautiful city, it put in place a sort of architectural order. The civic buildings of the metropolis all followed the form of Greek and Roman architecture. The great Cathedral and Catholic shrine rose in Gothic and Byzantine forms, thus creating a wonderful order for religious architecture as distinctive.
For Big Diomede, it seemed appropriate to again visit the past for ordering the future. Thus I returned to classicism for the College and Gothic for the Chapel, the precedent being Thomas Jefferson's University of Virginia... a beautiful campus in the Palladian style. Jefferson omitted a place of worship, perhaps by design, but in the 1880's a chapel Designed by Baltimore architect and University alumnus Charles Emmet Cassell was erected. The chapel’s materials, site, and style signify it as a Christian building in contrast to the Academical Village. Upon the chapel’s dedication, Professor Maximilian Schele de Vere proclaimed that while the Rotunda represented “in cold though classic beauty the outlines of a pagan temple,” the chapel aspired to Heaven with its “pointed window” and “flying buttress.” In 1980 I was married to my beautiful wife in that chapel, about a century after it was first proposed. Thus that building is very special to me. The Zimmerman Stone Mountain Proposal Story is the story of my own proposal! Yes, the Divine sent a Storm! We like to think it would have happened anyway, without the Heavenly pyrotechnics, but it remains a great story.
Grandma's window and Inglenook found their way into the story simply because the images fit the mission, and I love them. She was a student at the Maryland Institute in 1914 and produced most of her work in those years. She married O. F. Carpenter, a successful Madison businessman and painted as an avocation until her eyesight failed in the 1970's. Lola Dalton Carpenter was extremely talented and had studied fashion design. In a later part of the story, yet to be told, a nod to Kris' efforts in this discipline is really a shout to Grandma, who all of us credit with our own creative impulses. My cousin in Oregon is an incredible photographer. My own children are very good too. We all thank Lola Dalton Carpenter for blazing the creative path for us!
My Grandmother, Lola Dalton Carpenter, designed this ingelnook in 1914. Of course, it was exactly the look I wanted for Kris' house on Big Diomede.
Sarah Guppyand her husband,Samuel Guppyhad six children, Samuel Guppy Junior, Thomas Richard, Sarah Maria Ann, Mary Elizabeth, RobertandGrace. Thomas Richard Guppywould become one ofIsambard Kingdom Brunel's assistants, working with him on the construction of the ships Great Britain and the Great Western. Sarah herself is said to have made models for Brunel of his inventions.
Motherhood and Invention
ByMike Rendell
I used to live in Richmond Hill in Bristol and was aware of the green plaque a few doors down advising the world that it used to be the home of Sarah Guppy, an English inventor who lived between 1770 and 1852. Indeed I always parked my car in the tree-filled garden opposite her home at 7 Richmond Hill, unaware that she had bequeathed it to the city on condition that it was not built upon. It remains as a delightful, quiet, enclave right in a busy part of the city.
But what of Sarah Guppy the inventor? It is fair to say that female inventors are few and far between in the Georgian and Victorian era, for one very good reason. If a woman was married she could not own property in her own name – and as a patent was intellectual property this meant that a woman could not apply for a patent in her own name and had to do so via her husband.
Nevertheless Mrs Guppy can lay claim to an extraordinarily eclectic mix of inventions. Where for instance would we be without a device to prevent barnacles forming on boat hulls? She earned a contract with the British Navy worth £40,000 for that one. Or even more usefully, for the safe piling of bridge foundations (patented in 1811 and used free of charge by Thomas Telford when building his bridge over the Menai straits, and by Isambard Kingdom Brunel with the Clifton Suspension bridge some ten years later). She never sought to charge a licence fee for her pile-driving ideas because she regarded them as being for the public benefit.
She also put forward a scheme to prevent soil erosion on railway embankments by planting willow and poplar trees, while my favourite invention was one which modified a samovar-type of tea urn to enable you to boil an egg in the steam while at the same time keeping the toast warm on a steam-heated metal plate. An ideal breakfast maker in fact!
In between time Sarah invented a way of keeping fit in the bedroom – patenting a sort of hybrid bed-come-gym, with drawers beneath the bed forming steps for exercise, and with bars suspended from the ceiling for developing upper-body strength.
Other patents covered a type of fire hood for the kitchen. She also devised a modified candle holder which would enable candles to burn for longer, and a method of caulking wooden boats so that they were more sea-worthy.
In all Sarah took out ten patents in the late Georgian and early Victorian period – a remarkable achievement. (read more)
Brunel’s Mentor
Preparing for the birthday edition story on Isambard Kingdom Brunel, I discovered a second attribution for the Clifton Suspension Bridge, Sarah Beach Guppy. Apparently she briefly was thought to have created the design for the bridge over the Avon Gorge because she had patented an iron chain bridge design in 1811. The problem is that her design is substantially different from that used by Brunel. Still, it is of note that a woman born in the Eighteenth Century had ten patents to her name. Born in 1770, Sarah married a merchant named Samuel Guppy and they had six children. Mr. Guppy’s business took him to London and the family was friends with the family of Marc Brunel. That Marc and Sarah were both inventors certainly created some sort of bond. Although it is commonly believed that Marc Brunel was Isambard’s primary teacher, it seems Sarah became a special mentor to the young man. He was 36 years younger than her.
When young Isambard arrived in Bristol he had never actually designed a bridge. His work to that point had been assisting his father Marc in the construction of the Thames Tunnel. Barely escaping death when the tunnel collapsed, young Brunel went to Bristol to convalesce. Some historians speculate that Guppy collaborated in the design for the Clifton Bridge. Other sources say that she built models of Brunel’s designs. This points to the distinct possibility that Sarah not only collaborated with Marc and Isambard, but served as a mentor to the younger Brunel. Her first invention was a method of making safe pilings for bridges. Thomas Telford asked her for permission to use her patented design and she gave it to him free of charge. She was generous with her genius.
As a friend of Isambard, she helped in the creation of the Great Western Railway, making many recommendations to the directors of the company. In 1841 she recommended planting willows and poplars to stabilize the railroad embankments. Her son Thomas would later become an assistant to Isambard Kingdom Brunel, working on the Great Britain and the Great Eastern. Young Isambard even painted a portrait of Sarah. The two families enjoyed a rich shared creativity. Isambard and his wife Mary were great patrons of the arts. I did not know Isambard was a painter himself, although his renderings and the detailing of his projects show his artistry.
As to the attribution of the Clifton Suspension Bridge, the work would appear to be original with Brunel, still, great design does not happen in a vacuum and Sarah Beach Guppy deserves recognition for her contribution – even if it was simply her mentorship of a great designer.
The Laying of the First Stone for the Railroad.
The Vision of Charles Carroll
July 4, 1828 the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence took part in an important ceremony as he turned the first spade of earth at the symbolic laying of the first stone of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Fifty-two years after he put his name to the document that began our nation, Charles Carroll of Carrollton participated in an event that looked to her future. Indeed, inspired by the Ellicott Brothers [click to read], Carroll had already diversified agriculture on his large estate in Howard County, Maryland. He had helped build flour mills and limestone mills that in turn helped to create a more sustainable agriculture. The Quaker Ellicotts had migrated to this "picturesque wilderness" from Bucks County, Pennsylvania and partnered with Carroll, a Catholic, to move the region away from single crop plantations and enrich the soil with ground limestone, a practice that continues to this day. Now the ninety year old patriot was breaking ground for the prototype railroad. It was not exactly like the modern rails on cross ties we are familiar with, but rather iron straps laid on top of two continuous granite "curbs." The first motive power was horsepower. Horses actually pulled the carriages along the rails. A wind powered wicker car was even experimented with before the famous "Tom Thumb" steam engine gave challenge to a horse drawn train carriage in the now legendary race. [2.]
Iconsider this among the most important acts of my life, second only to my signing the Declaration of Independence, if even it be second to that.” Carroll said of the moment. The stone, laid in a field outside Baltimore, was also a time capsule, into which were placed a copy of the company's charter, newspapers of the day and a scroll bearing the words: "This Stone is deposited in commemoration of the commencement of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. A work of deep and vital interest to the American people. Its accomplishment will confer the most important benefits upon this nation, by facilitating its commerce, diffusing and extending its social intercourse, and perpetuating the happy Union of these, Confederated States. The first general meeting of the citizens of Baltimore to confer upon the adoption of proper measures for undertaking this magnificent work, was on the second day of' February 1827…”[1.]
The railroad would eventually do all of these things as a vast nation would be joined together by her steel rails. The Nineteenth Century would see her span from sea to sea to become a country her founders could scarcely have imagined!
Charles Carroll had been born in September 1737 in Annapolis. He attended Jesuit colleges in Maryland and France, before going on to study law in Paris and London. In 1765 he returned to Howard County and took charge of the Carroll family's vast estate there. Catholics in Maryland before independence were not allowed to participate in politics, practice law or vote, but Carroll became influential as a writer of tracts against taxation without representation under the pseudonym "First Citizen." In 1776 he was appointed to the Continental Congress. Although he was not present for the vote for independence, he was one of the first signers. He added the distinct identifier: "of Carrollton" to distinguish himself from a number of relatives having the same name. After independence was won, Carroll became a Maryland State Senator in 1777 and eventually became a United States Senator representing that state.
In 1800 he left political service and was instrumental in building canals and the establishment of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Company. His farm in Howard County became a model of improvements in agriculture. He died in Baltimore in 1835 at the age of 95.
