Astound the Age, Verne's Twentieth Century Paris

Michel Dufrénoy's Guide to Our Past Century
By Bob Kirchman

Copyright © 2020, The Kirchman Studio, all rights reserved

In 1863, right after the publication of Five Weeks in a Balloon, Jules Verne presented his publisher Jules Hetzel the manuscript for Paris in the Twentieth Century. Hetzel rejected it. Verne’s great-grandson, Jean Verne discovered the manuscript and published it. The story follows young Michel Dufrénoy through a future world that has forgotten the influence of true art and fallen into a harsh utilitarianism. The story ends with Dufrénoy collapsing in the snow. Here I engage in a bit of ‘fan literature’ as I offer a sequel to Paris in the 20th Century.

So this is what death is like” thought Michel Dufrénoy. His hand turning blue clutching the ruined violets. The demon of electricity no longer tormented his mind. Instead he heard what must have been the voice of an angel. As his life ebbed away the young poet heard a lovely voice… strangely familiar. Something stirred him to a heightened consciousness and the voice grew stronger. Now imperative! “Wake up!” His mind jolted to alertness and Michel thought to himself “this cannot be!” Yet, in the thoroughness of his search, he had stumbled into this precinct most thought deserted… yet there was the voice… again! Begging him to rouse! Dufrénoy struggled to rise and fell unconscious back into the snow.

Consciousness returned and Michel found himself lying on a mat in some sort of subterranean conduit. It was a round tube lined with brick and its walls bore the evidence of seeping water, the stains confirming the young man’s suspicion that he was indeed underground. At this moment, anyway, the tunnel was dry. Michel was wrapped in blankets and surrounded by heated bricks. He was coming back from the dead! A single light dangled from a wire in the tunnel and though it was electric, it was dim – an antiquated device which gave a very limited light to the catacomb in which it shown. As he stirred, an old woman emerged from the darkness to check on him. “How do you feel?” she asked. Michel Dufrénoy could only manage a groan.

So, what had befallen our young protagonist? Though he would not remember it, his new benefactor told him the story as he regained his faculties. Indeed he had fallen in the snow of the cemetery and was almost dead when a member of their group returning to the catacombs found him. This person tried to rouse him but when she could not, convinced some of the community to risk bringing him inside. The tombs of major cities often were places not inhabited – but providing shelter to those outside of the civilization proper. In Rome, the catacombs had provided space for the faithful to worship during the harsh reign of unfriendly emperors. Here in the mausoleum district was a bit of abandoned air and steam tunnel in which lived a community in exile.

The entrance to this place was a well-hidden shaft built for maintenance that was inside the precincts of the cemetery. The falling snow had made it imperative that they refrain from sorties outside the tunnels so as not to leave footprints but one of their members required medicine and so a close relative had volunteered to carefully leave the community and return. She was the one who found Michel. There are many stories, particularly from the great American war a hundred years before, of departed loved ones appearing in dreams to their most cherished as they leave this world and Michel pondered the voice he recalled so clearly in his brief moment of regained consciousness in the snow. Indeed the ruined violets spoke to a love that would sacrifice – a higher love from an abandoned time.

He thought about the modern technocrat’s abandonment of faith in the Divine – and the ‘miracles’ recorded in the past that the moderns derided. Even Michel was no strong believer. The church existed to instill order in society and bury the dead. It was not a good thing to have religious fervor as that was often the stuff of conflict. But the Twentieth Century had experienced great travail as a result of diminishing faith in other ways. True, there were no longer wars over doctrines but the life of family and community had withered as personal satisfaction became the only motivator in society. Michel had never thought much about the Divine, but now he pondered his strange new circumstances and the vision that had preceded them.

Chapter Two

When Michel Dufrénoy regained a bit more consciousness he was delighted to see his old friend Monsieur Richelot! The old professor warmly embraced his pupil and after some amazed pleasantries, told his story. “Indeed I was being evicted for not paying my rent. My tenure as a teacher came to an end with the withdrawal of my last miserable student. One of my old colleagues came to visit me as I was cleaning out my office and let me know of this place. Lucy and I have joined the classics in exile, I fear. You must, however, be extremely grateful that she dared to go out for my much needed medicine, for it was she who found you, almost frozen to death! Be assured she convinced us to go outside at great risk and bring you inside. Thankfully the snow keeps falling and we have other entrances when we need them.”

At that moment Lucy emerged from the darkness, her eyes saying more than any words, even those of a great poet, could ever hope to express. Michel tenderly squeezed her hand, apologizing for not successfully conveying the violets to her. At that she raised her other hand displaying the ruined blossoms. Sweet laughter filled the illuminated space in the tunnel!

What followed was a long and slow period of healing. The three friends discussed their cherished literature and read aloud from volumes Richelot had been able to bring into the catacomb. Meals were bland, assembled from a forgotten cache of survival grains, primarily rice, that had been discovered in a forgotten shelter from times when men still waged war. Mushrooms, grown in the tunnels, provided flavor and some additional nourishment but alas, there was no way to create the richness of flavor that most had enjoyed above ground. Michel asked about Quinsonnas. Was there any news of his old colleague? Richelot knew nothing. Would the pianist emerge to ‘Astound the Age?’ No one knew. Gradually Michel met the other members of the community. There were poets, painters, musicians and dreamers. Misfits all!

As the young man grew stronger, it was time for him to enter into the life of the community. Richelot’s recommendation was all that it required. Now he was party to the deeper discussion of what would become of them. It was already decided that modern France held no place for them, but the plan was to immigrate to French America. How would they pay for passage in steerage of some vessel like Leviathon IV, the young man wondered? Richelot explained, “There are others, who you will not see. They are still in the employ of industry and commerce, but their hearts are with us. We have entered into a pact that will take us all to the wilds of Quebec and the acquisition of some land on which we may farm… and create! Will you come with us?”

Dear Monsieur Richelot! You know my answer.”

And so, young Dufrénoy entered into the life of the community. He often ran the dangerous errands necessary to maintain contact with the working members of the resistance. His skill at stealth made him an important agent of the little group and though there was no wealth to the group as yet, he mustered his courage to pursue talk of a future with Lucy. He could make no promise of established wealth, but he could offer the strength of a pioneer. He would work like a dog to provide for his family and in a new world, Hopes would become reality. Though he had lost the manuscript, Michel recalled the best of his words and began to write anew.

The Winter of the great freeze grudgingly came to an end. For the next year the group continued to work and save. Dufrénoy made his way into the outlying suburbs of Paris and secured employment as a clerk. He was able to rent a bunk in a modest dormitory and so contribute more to the cost of passage. With the blessing of the community he purchased some new clothes as well. His trips to the catacombs were of necessity few, but one day he appeared in his new clothes with a bouquet of local violets and a basket of nice foods and wine. “Monsieur Richelot,” he began, “I have to ask you a very important question.”

So began the engagement of Monsieur Dufrénoy and Lucy. The wedding would take place on the first day the ship was in international waters!

Chapter Three

Dufrénoy returned to his work a man with a mission. His employers thought him ambitious and seeking advancement. He soon rose to the level of the management he despised but kept to his simple lodgings. This required no small feat of stealth in itself, for an upwardly mobile young man was expected to live in the high opulence of self-indulgence he was entitled to. Michel deftly acquired a set of house plans and spent a bit of break-time in marking them up, changing room dimensions and moving walls. Possibly the dwelling so rendered could be built in Quebec. On weekends he sometimes went to look at land. His coworkers, convinced of his energies being expended in pursuit of the perfect dwelling, wondered not at his current economy of living.

His closest comrade at work was a Monsieur Jean Dumont, a clerk as he was, who had some interest in the arts, though he professed no talent. They occasionally discussed literature together though Dumont’s tastes disturbingly favored such works as ‘Song of the Turbines.’ Still, he was eclectic enough in his tastes that he possessed some of the old volumes. His reading included the works of the great engineer Claudius Crozet, who had built railroads in America and Isambard Kingdom Brunel. Rather than a crass fascination with industrialism in itself, Dumont admired these engineers of French descent for the poetry of their designs. Brunel’s bridges, though works of infrastructure, were works of art as well. Often his bridges incorporated Egyptian themes and his arches were graceful to behold. His Clifton Suspension Bridge was so beautiful it became the Iconic symbol of an English City.

Dumont and Dufrénoy worked for a large company that specialized in building bridges and highways. They both lamented the utilitarian nature of the projects they built in 1962. They also seemed to share a more frugal outlook in personal matters than their colleagues and often enjoyed a drink together, eschewing the lavish evenings enjoyed by their fellows. Jean had a modest house near the company which he lived in with his wife and children. Eventually he offered Michel a very reasonable rental of his extra bedroom. Since it was not much more than the dormitory and there was no commuting expense, it was a deal quickly sealed. On the occasional weekends when he went to see Lucy, there was nothing at all suspicious about it, save he simply disappeared from view for a few days.

The next year progressed rapidly and soon it would be time to sail. Since he lived ‘above ground,’ there was nothing unusual about Michel’s resignation and announcement that he was off to the Americas. Surely he would find employment with those audacious companies proposing even bigger motorways and a bridge from America to Asia! The future was bright indeed and Monsieur Dufrénoy would be there to take part in it! Passage was secured on a German vessel, the Wilhelm, for the Spring of 1964.


In 1961, Russian engineer Peter Borisov proposed a dam across the Bering Strait that would carry a superhighway between Siberia and Alaska. The dam was planned as a climate modifying proposal that Borisov believed would warm Siberia. [1.]



Michel Dufrénoy's Guide to Our Past Century
By Bob Kirchman

Copyright © 2020, The Kirchman Studio, all rights reserved

Chapter Four

After the Wilhelm left the Paris Canal, it sailed briskly for six days to reach New York. Lucy and Michel were married by the captain and enjoyed their ‘homeymoon cruise’ to the new world. The Wilhelm was a smaller vessel than Leviathan IV and carried freight and passengers. The staterooms could be had for a bargain so the group traveled in style compared to steerage in the larger ships. Each cabin had an ample porthole and since there was no class distinction on a freighter, the group enjoyed full access to the deck for daytime recreation. The German working man demands good victuals, so the food was better too. After life in the catacombs it was refreshing to soak in light and sea air for even a few days. The crewmen were friendly and personable.

Richelot was happily surprised at the captain’s ample supply of Rhine wines. He had expected only beer. Here he discovered another irony. The captain had a very fine collection of music discs and played Motzart and other fine composers. Captain Zimmerman remarked to the old scholar: “Funny, but the fine things of the past have been spurned by the intelligentsia but we working stiffs have now embraced them as our own. In government schools they are taught to embrace discordant harmony but you will find that in places such as this, we educate our own children. They often find a taste for the good things quite on their own.” Indeed the mess room, if you would stoop to calling it that, featured some fine Romantic paintings from the likes of Frederic Church and the other Hudson River School painters. Between meals it served as a classroom for the crews’ children. If Leviathan IV was a ‘floating city,’ Wilhelm was in itself a floating community.

Indeed there was a sense of extended family here as wives and children sailed alongside their seafaring husbands, plying artisan trades that enriched their floating village. There were manufacturers of clothing, brewers, carpenters and leatherworkers. Families taught their own children and organized athletic games for them on deck.


1964 New York World's Fair Painting. Artist Unknown.

Chapter Five

All too soon they made landfall in New York City’s harbor. Here towered buildings taller even than those in Paris. The Parisians wandered the Manhattan streets in a sense of awe. A train was engaged to carry them to Long Island’s village of Flushing, where they could stay in accommodations built for the 1964 Word Exposition in Flushing Meadow Park. The fair was about to open and the hotels, fearing a lower attendance at first, offered very inexpensive lodging in an effort to cut their expected losses. That is how Michel and Lucy Dufrénoy found themselves at the Fair.

Joining themselves to the first-day crowds, the young couple entered the ‘world of the future’ presented by the fair. It differed from the great World’s Fairs of the turn of the Century in several ways. First of all, the buildings were no longer in the form of a white classical city, they were generally more utilitarian. Among them was a giant ferris wheel in the form of an automobile tyre that towered above the fairgoers. There was a giant umbrella, representing an insurance company. An enormous egg towering above a forest of metal trees housed an exhibit about modern calculating machines.

There were giant boxes on stilts. Elevated trains ran on a single rail suspended above the fairgrounds. Flying machines landed and took off from the top of a large ‘T’ shaped structure. In the center of it all towered a gigantic model of the earth made from steel panels and struts. The continents were solid and the oceans described only by the meridians, which formed the structure for the massive globe. For three days the French immigrants wandered about the fairgrounds, taking in the wonders of the world. They awaited their journey by train to Montréal in French America. From there they would set out for parts unknown.


1964 New York World's Fair Painting. Artist Unknown.


1964 New York World's Fair Painting. H. L. Klein.


1964 New York World's Fair Painting. Artist Unknown.



Chapter Six

The train made its way to Albany along the much painted Hudson River and the evening light on the water evoked those romantic images anew. From Albany, the next train made its way North to the customs house in Rouse’s Point near Lake Champlain. Then it was but a short journey further into Montréal. The travelers were disheartened to find that Vieux-Montréal, the old French center of the city, had been swallowed up in a sprawling modern metropolis much the same as modern Paris. In some regards it differed from New York only in that the language was different. There was no abundance of lodging here, however and the little group experienced their first tenement housing as they prepared to acquire land for their new settlement.

It seemed now that fortune had turned against the weary band as there was little property to be had in the rich farming lands. What remained was Northern muskeg and permafrost – land that did not promise any kind of existence past subsistence farming. Michel was charged with taking the search further out and found to his chagrin that the cost of anything that would support the colonists far outpaced their limited resources. Montréal offered little in the way of employment opportunities and the group squeaked by doing odd labor jobs as they came up.

Michel had kept correspondence with Jean Dumont, who informed him that he was headed to British Columbia to take a position with a highway builder. He would be presently traveling by airship to Montréal and then heading West by railway. “Would you like to come along, Michel, and seek opportunity for yourself where the world is expanding?”

Chapter Seven

Jean Dumont stepped off the airship in Montréal and greeted Michel Dufrénoy warmly. “I’ve just a few hours before I must catch my train Westward,” he said, “but I am so glad we could at least spend an evening together for old time’s sake.” Dumont’s wife and children would come later after he had established himself in his new position. “The Northwest Corridor Corporation will eventually connect America to Asia,” Jean continued. “You would do well to come with me to that place where opportunity is in such abundance. I could get you on as a clerk in our Calgory office. The great road to Alaska is already in place but we are widening it to a primary route with multiple travel paths just like our autoroutes in Paris. Astounding things are being done and you and your Lucy can have all the success you desire!”

Dufrénoy quizzed his former colleague relentlessly over dinner about the works in Western Canada. Dumont provided an extremely detailed description, adding: “There are untouched regions out there. It’s a chance to literally build a whole new world!” Dufrénoy pondered that statement gravely: “You mean, one would be able to create the culture from the ground up?” “Exactly,” said Jean, “There will be no relics of the past to impede the progress of mankind to that ‘great big beautiful tomorrow!’ Think of it, Michel, a clean slate on which to chart the future into the 21st Century! Antiquated notions no longer will restrain us. It will be a brave new world!”

There is NOTHING in those lands?” Dufrénoy asked, somewhat amazed. “Oh, there are some small farming communities, the local indigenous people and some old Russian Orthodox communities, but they are small and isolated. I imagine when our great corridor is laid out they will remain small and isolated. When the United States built the first gravel track along the route to Alaska, the local natives had never even seen a white man – Europeans were so completely unknown to them. The United States sent a group of Southern soldiers to build the road in the remotest part of that territory. They were the descendants of Africans who had been sold into slavery in that part of the world a Century ago – now free, but still lacking stature in that society. Their 97th Construction Battalion gave them purpose, and eventually stature as they built that most difficult section of the road.” [1.]

Dumont went on to say that the natives had heard reports that the white men were coming building the road. When one of the advance men for the 97th came into that region, a stunned native announced; “The first white man I saw was BLACK!” Jean went on: “The road was built in the days when Russia and America were still strong adversaries. In our day it is seen more as a way to connect those two peoples.”

Chapter Eight

Dufrénoy pondered the possibilities of true frontier and thought long and hard about the opportunity to fund the community’s relocation into someplace like the Yukon Territory where culture would actually be quite content to leave them alone. The men of the 97th had happily returned to warmer climes when the road was opened. One of them was Nehemiah Atkinson, who returned to New Orleans in Louisiana and became a tennis instructor to young people. [2.] Michel came across a small biography of this man. Indeed it seemed that this Northwestern country offered great opportunity for achievement and recognition, but most who came here wanted simply to do the job and go home.

Thousands of miles of vast wasteland, yet those few who lived there would not be moved. Amish folk were able to farm there, making the most of the short growing season. These were people from a simpler time it seemed, content to live a simpler way of life. If asked, they would cite their religious beliefs or their tie to a particular place. Some of their children did indeed go off to the big cities – but it was to be noted that many of them later returned. Such was the draw of warm pre-industrial society and extended family.

The more he thought about it, the more it became clear to Michel that this great road would always remain a conduit, but would not allow modern culture to spread out much past the required service areas. The Orthodox villages seemed especially appealing, as the very term ‘Orthodox’ seemed to imply that some foundation of the old culture would always be present. “What better place,” thought Dufrénoy, “to preserve and encourage the arts until they are strong enough to inform the culture again?”

And when the arts have rejuvenated themselves,” his mind continued, “the modern highways will be there to carry the renaissance to the ends of the earth!”

Chapter Nine

So it was that Michel Dufrénoy found himself traveling to Calgory along with several of the men of the community to take up work in the Northwest Corridor. The men would work and establish the means to bring the rest of their fellows and families West to a place they would find to settle in. The country they rode through seemed so vast and beautiful that it filled young Dufrénoy with its promise! He thought of the New York Fair and shuddered. It was amazing in its own way but in retrospect it seemed like when children place household items out on the floor in play to create a village. It is interesting but is heavy on large forms and lacks in subtle detailing. It is astounding to behold, but over time it does not evoke a higher appreciation.

Here in the American West, there arose a landscape that never ceased to inspire wonder. It seemed so vast as to resist the forces that had homogenized the great cultures of the world. In it the locomotive seemed small, the track but a line, and man was once more aware that there was more! It was that sense of more, Dufrénoy reasoned, that had informed culture in the past to seek the essence of truth and beauty. In modern thought, materialism and pragmatic utilitarianism ruled, but here in the limitless West, those things were not enough. The march of shadows in setting sun drowned out the songs of pistons and turbines. Here was a world too vast to comprehend coming into being.

The ancients had their cosmology firmly rooted in EX NIHILO Creation – the belief that the Divine had created everything from nothing! That implied that the stuff of creation, the laws of physics, and the creation itself were the product of some beautiful Divine Design. The moderns had in the end of the Nineteenth Century decided that they would only believe in what they could see. “Matter,” they said, “always must have existed and just formed itself through random processes.” Though science described the processes, the scientist no longer saw the sublime nature of the process. Another concept thrown to the wind was the concept of IMAGO DEI, that is the belief that mankind is created in the image of the Divine.

Thus it was that Michel Dufrénoy found himself fleeing a world where man was reduced to a cog – to a world where man was indeed heir to something better. His letters to Lucy were full of such thoughts and she cherished the seed that they planted. Together they would give their children everything that had been thought lost.
THE END

Special Thanksgiving Issue, Verne's Lost Novel

Volume XIX, Issue XVII: Thanksgiving, Jules Verne

A Repeat of One of Our Favorite Issues

Thanksgiving is Good for You

Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.” -- Psalm 100:4-5 NIV

The 'other' Weekly News Magazine [click to read] once featured the story: "Why ANXIETY is Good for You." We at THYME see this one a bit differently. In the Bible, Philippians 4:6 exhorts us NOT to be anxious. Rather we are to view our needs in light of our relationship to a loving G-d. Indeed, our requests are presented in light of the gratitude we feel as we consider the goodness and provision to be found in the Divine.

Not be anxious? In today's world? That is precisely the direction given the believer. We live in a stress-filled world and we are not commanded to shut ourselves away but rather to interact with it... becoming a conduit for G-d's Love to reach it. Indeed History shows us people of Faith fighting plagues, caring for the helpless and generally DOING things, often navigating the best course we can in unclear situations. We are NOT helpless, though we often seem to labor in insufficient light.

Fitting thoughts as we celebrate the feast of Thanksgiving. These are indeed anxious times, and it is easy to become overwhelmed by the general angst of the period we live in. History tells us of Divine promise and fulfillment. The Patriarchs piled up stones to remind them of G-d's faithfulness in the past and to keep them faithful as they waited to see His faithfulness in their present lives.

And it shall be on the day when ye shall pass over Jordan unto the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee, that thou shalt set thee up great stones, and plaister them with plaister: And thou shalt write upon them all the words of this law, when thou art passed over, that thou mayest go in unto the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee, a land that floweth with milk and honey; as the LORD God of thy fathers hath promised thee." -- Deuteronomy 27:2-3

Indeed, one must recount the stories of how G-d met needs in times past. One must also tell of the promises of G-d. Faith needs fuel, and Gratitude is the substance that makes our faith burn bright, even in the darkest of times.

Standing on the Promises [1.]

Standing on the promises of Christ my King,
through eternal ages let his praises ring;
glory in the highest, I will shout and sing,
standing on the promises of G-d.
Refrain:
Standing, standing,
standing on the promises of Christ my Savior;
standing, standing,
I'm standing on the promises of G-d.

Standing on the promises that cannot fail,
when the howling storms of doubt and fear assail,
by the living Word of G-d I shall prevail,
standing on the promises of G-d.
(Refrain)

3. Standing on the promises of Christ the Lord,
bound to him eternally by love's strong cord,
overcoming daily with the Spirit's sword,
standing on the promises of G-d.
(Refrain)

4. Standing on the promises I cannot fall,
listening every moment to the Spirit's call,
resting in my Savior as my all in all,
standing on the promises of G-d.
(Refrain)

The staff of THYME wish you a most blessed Thanksgiving!

The 'Common Course and Condition' 
America's First Experiment with Socialism

When the Pilgrims first set up their economic system in Plymouth they opted for a system where all the results of their labor were held in common. All of the colonists then drew from the common store what they lived on. The Common Course and Condition, as this system was called, resulted in some bad feelings on the part of those who produced effectively and some lack of initiative on the part of those who were happy to have the food without the work.

The system produced constant shortages and a man who rose early and worked diligently came quite naturally to resent his neighbor who slept in and contributed less effort. Friction was high among the colonists and in 1623 Governor William Bradford declared the common course a failure.

The colonists were next assigned plots by families. Larger families were given larger plots. Everyone was responsible for the production of his own land and growing food for his own family. The results were notable. Far more crops were planted and tended. There was plenty instead of shortage and all in response to this new sense of ownership.

Church Found where 
Pocahontas was Married


Her eyes meet yours as you enter the Virginia Executive Mansion. A young girl from days long ago, yet her presence in the foyer immediately captured my attention. There are two portraits of Pocahontas in the room, one in English clothing (below) and the more familiar rendering seen above.


Pocahontas's formal names were Matoaka (or Matoika) and Amonute. Pocahontas is a childhood name that perhaps referred to her playful nature. After her marriage to John Rolfe, she was known as Rebecca Rolfe.

Archeologists say that they have Discovered the Church [click to read] where Pocahontas married Jamestown planter John Rolfe.

Harvest Hymn Written 
in 1844 by Henry Alford


“Come, Ye Thankful People, Come” is a harvest hymn written in 1844 by Henry Alford. It is often sung to the tune “St. George's Windsor” by George Job Elvey. So I created this in light of Thanksgiving to remind us of what we should really be thankful for. Two of my photos are overlayed with the text of the hymn added." -- Kristina Elaine Greer Photo Graphic by Kristina Elaine Greer

View Larger Image [click to view]

The First Thanksgiving... in VIRGINIA!

It wasn't a grand feast, but rather a time of giving thanks! on December 4, 1619, almost 2 years before the pilgrims held the feast with their Native American benefactors, Captain John Woodlief came ashore near the present site of the Berkeley Plantation. He had sailed from Bristol, England in the Good Ship Margaret with 35 men. They had survived a harrowing storm on November 29th and felt great gratitude for their deliverance. Here is Their Story [click to read].


Lessons from Squanto for Today

The Man Who Taught the Pilgrims Offers Wisdom


In this 1911 illustration, Tisquantum teaches the settlers how to plant maize.

Here is an interesting ebook: Squanto's Garden [click to read] from Off the Grid News. Most of us know some snippets of Squanto's story... how he taught the settlers how to successfully cultivate the soil of their new home, but Bill Heid actually shares some practical gardening tips and garden layouts that Squanto might have shared with the Pilgrims. He also fills out Tisquantum's story, giving us insight into a man who's unusual life uniquely equipped him to teach others.


The Sun burns through a morning mist on Thanksgiving Eve.

A Native American's Amazing Story

" ... a special instrument sent by God for their good beyond their expectations ..." -- William Bradford

Today millions of Americans will dine on turkey and celebrate Thanksgiving. Most people will realize that it has some connection to the Pilgrims in Massachussetts, but the story of G-d's provision and the reason for the celebration seem to have faded in our collective memories.

The Pilgrims came to the New World for their kids. They were a Christian group who sought to live for G-d rather than be seduced by the culture around them. They lived in Holland for a while but they saw their children falling away from the faith.

So they moved. They sought passage on a ship bound for Virginia. The ship went off course and they landed in Massachussetts instead. They had a rough time of it their first winter and almost half of them died. Still, when offered the chance to return to Europe, they declined. Then one of the indigenous people walked into camp and spoke to them in English!

The man's name was Samoset, and he introduced the Pilgrims to Squanto, who taught the Pilgrims many things to help them survive in the new world. Squanto spoke even better English than Samoset. His story is amazing.

Squanto had first met Europeans around 1605 when Captain John Smith made his famous voyage. He travelled to England with him but when he returned to America he was captured into slavery and returned to Europe. Spanish monks bought his freedom and sent him to England where he found passage back to America. Sadly, his village was now gone, the people wiped out by disease. He found people nearby to live with but one day heard that a new group of people were living where his old village had stood. What's more, they spoke that funny new language that he had learned.

Samoset made the introduction and the rest, you might say, is history. Thanks to Squanto the Pilgrims survived and began to do quite well in the new world. Their relations with the Native people were quite good and their Thanksgiving was for the amazing provision they found in Squanto, of whom it was said:

" ... He desired honor, which he loved as his life and preferred before his peace ..."

Jules Verne’s ‘Lost’ Novel
Imagine a World without Art

By Bob Kirchman



Jean Verne is the great-grandson of the famous author and futurist Jules Verne. In 1989 Jean was getting ready to sell a family home and made an amazing discovery. There was a huge bronze safe that the keys to had long since been lost. Although it was believed to be empty, the young Verne opened it with a blowtorch anyway. There in the safe was a manuscript. It was a novel called ‘Paris in the Twentieth Century,’ which Verne had submitted to his publisher Jules Hetzel right after the success of his first novel: Five Weeks in a Balloon.’ Hetzel had rejected it in 1863 saying “It’s a hundred feet below ‘Five Weeks in a Balloon.’ Hetzel went on to say “No one today will believe your prophecy!”

Verne’s vision of a modern Paris in 1960 indeed predicts skyscrapers and technology that came to be, but it is even more amazing to note that Verne’s dystopia predicts a future world where the great art, literature and music – the rich fruits of centuries of Western culture – have been all but forgotten! Instead, the culture of the day celebrates technology and commerce. ‘Old’ things have nothing to say to us anymore! The hero of the story, young Michel Dufrénoy, goes into a modern bookstore and asks if they have anything by Victor Hugo. The clerk responds by asking “what did he write?”

Jules Verne predicts most damningly our society’s modern intoxication with ugliness. Go to any modern art school or venue and you find more of a cold mechanical sort of art aimed more at ‘expression.’ Roger Scruton has written on this phenomenon and how the great works of the past have been pushed aside. [2.] Scruton opines: “The current habit of desecrating beauty suggests that people are as aware as they ever were of the presence of sacred things. Desecration is a kind of defense against the sacred, an attempt to destroy its claims. In the presence of sacred things, our lives are judged, and to escape that judgment, we destroy the thing that seems to accuse us.”

Thus Michel and his friends, artists of the ‘old’ school, are faced with the challenge of preserving the old and instructive culture in the face of a modern world that distains it. Verne’s work finds itself specifically troubling in its prediction of modern society’s distaste for a past that would inform it! And so, much like Dufrénoy’s friend and colleague Quinsonnas, we find ourselves as artists frustrated by the modern culture. We long, as he did to somehow ‘astound the age!’

Early industrialization did not of itself produce bad art. The Brooklyn Bridge, the Eiffel Tower and classicized ironfront buildings all carried forward a certain sense of beauty and proportion. The revolt against the traditions of the past was more intentional as in 1917 when Marcel Duchamp sought to parody traditional art’s over-concern with technique. He signed a plumbing fixture ‘R. Mutt’ and entered it in an exhibition. What he meant as a paradoxical statement, however, the art intelligentsia took for a serious movement. Ever since Duchamp’s urinal the world of art has itself destroyed the place of beauty.

For its part, industrialization has had a mixed effect. The 1962 Seattle World’s Fair’s ‘Hall of Science’ is as beautiful as the Eiffel Tower. It is in its own right quite a contrast to Frank Gehry’s ‘Experience Music Project.’ The 1964 New York World’s Fair was the ‘great cathedral’ of modern progress. In fact, it featured a ‘Carousel of Progress’ which had its own hymn: “Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow.” Men were headed to the moon. Technology was indeed going to end want and darkness.

But this new world, secured by ‘mutually assured destruction,’ created questions of its own. Technology created pollution. The promise faded into disillusionment and forced upon us a new conundrum. We had discarded ‘antiquated’ notions such as EX NIHILO creation – science was still our new god – but now science informed us that technology was a source of evil. Thus the Twentieth Century inherited a new Cosmology and has found it wanting!

The problem is that we have discarded the Wisdom of Centuries, even as we lean unapologetically on ‘modern’ science to inform us. We seek naturalistic answers or philosophical ones. We shun the truly transcendent ones. Indeed, Paris in the Twentieth Century looks at our present time and asks the hard questions.



Counting on Katherine
How the Brilliant Mathematician Saved Apollo 13


Helaine Becker's children's book tells more of the Katherine Johnson story. 

The Woman with the ‘Right Stuff’
[click to read]

Katherine Johnson Plotted the Way
By Steven J. Niven

Get the girl to check the numbers.” These words came from astronaut John Glenn in February 1962 as he prepared to become the first American to orbit the Earth. The trajectory of his orbit had been calculated by NASA’s new state-of-the-art computers, but Glenn did not trust the machines. Mercury 7 astronauts had always relied on “computers in skirts,” women who were mathematicians at NASA’s Langley Research Center in Hampton, Va., for such flight data. So before he made his historic voyage into space, Glenn called on Katherine Johnson to recheck the computer’s analysis, knowing that she had provided similar calculations for Alan Shepard, the first American in space. Johnson, one of the few African-American women then working for NASA, calculated and confirmed the data for Glenn’s orbit. The launch went ahead and Glenn became the first American to orbit the Earth, 10 months after the Soviet Union’s Yuri Gagarin was the first human being to make that journey. Johnson’s role was little recognized at the time, but she would go on to play a significant—though, again, largely hidden—role in the first moon landing and in U.S. space exploration in the 1970s and 1980s. She did so by doing what she had always loved: math. (read more)

Truth Behind Moon Landings
Debunking the Conspiracy Theorists


Simple explanations for the most common conspiracy explanations.

Icy Fence in Virginia
Photo by Karen Brookshire


Ice on barbed wire after the November 15th ice storm in Virginia.

Philippians 4:19
Photo by Bob Kirchman



But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 4:19

APOLLONIUS, Chapter Fourteen, New Beginnings

 
Volume XIX, Issue XVII: Special Book Section

Apollonius
By Bob Kirchman
Copyright © 2020, The Kirchman Studio, all rights reserved

Chapter 14: New Beginnings

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 White brought 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.

I would 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)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
[click to read ]
Copyright © 2020, The Kirchman Studio, all rights reserved

Trump Legal Team Press Conference

SPECIAL EDITION: Legal Team Press Conference



This is about far more than Donald Trump's election. It is about the very integrity of the American Electoral System. The President’s legal team have identified widespread fraud linked to mail-in voting, problems with the voting machines provided by a company owned by Venezuelans whose results were tabulated in Europe! Listen to the President’s attorneys and decide for yourself.

Evidence is Growing
[click to read]

While many Democrats and their allies in the traditional media argue there is no evidence of systemic voting irregularities in the Nov. 3 election, a mountain of evidence has been amassed in private lawsuits alleging their was, in fact, significant and widespread voting misconduct. (read more)

The Dangers of Mail In Voting
[click to read]

Absentee ballots remain the largest source of potential voter fraud.” That quote isn’t from President Trump, who criticized mail-in voting this week after Wisconsin Democrats tried and failed to change an election at the last minute into an exclusively mail-in affair. It’s the conclusion of the bipartisan 2005 report of the Commission on Federal Election Reform, chaired by former President Jimmy Carter and former Secretary of State James Baker III. Concerns about vote-buying have a long history in the U.S. (read more)

PONTIFUS, The Bridge Builder's Tale in 3 Parts

Volume XIX, Issue XVI: PONTIFUS, Fifth Anniversary Edition

The History of Serial Fiction

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.

Pontifus, the Bridge Builder's Tale
By Bob Kirchman
Copyright © 2015, The Kirchman Studio, all rights reserved

I think over again my small adventures.
My Fears,
Those small ones that seemed so big,
For all the vital things I had to get and to reach,
And yet there is only one great thing,
The only thing,
To live to see the great day that dawns,
And the light that fills the world."
--Old Inuit Song

Rupert Zimmerman was uncomfortable, to say the least, with the moniker. Perhaps his most trusted assistant and daughter, Elizabeth had struck a nerve. She and her husband Martin were the only ones in on it anyway, but it was an effective device when the old man held the reins too tightly in the conduct of a meeting. To be fair, she used it only on rare occasions and it must be noted that Elizabeth Zimmerman O'Malley was indeed a compassionate and thoughtful daughter. The old man, like so many who struggle hard before their great work bears fruit, tended to grip things too tightly. The Latin term was actually an apt description of Zimmerman, for it was 'Pontifus,' which simply means; "Bridge Builder." The more used, and more familiar usage of the term refers in no uncertain terms to the Bishop of Rome. Thus a double entendre became a useful tool to the younger Zimmerman. She used it softly and sparingly as a means to help her Father step back into the humility he himself felt more comfortable in.

Mankind has always sought to open up a way to points unreached. First he wore paths to new hunting places. Gradually the paths became highways as trade ensued. Fords and ferries connected the paths across streams and rivers. The building of bridges stretched both the limits of human creativity and the materials employed. Simple logs and planks were laid across streams. Masons crafted stone arches that bridged rivers. Steel beams and cable were spun in the most amazing forms to bridge the largest bodies of water. John A. Roebling's Brooklyn Bridge, completed in 1883, came to symbolize the high art of bridge building. High gothic towers supported an elegant array of cables and stays that gracefully carried the roadway and a pedestrian promenade across the great East River. Throughout the centuries that followed, longer spans connected ever greater distances. But there were a few challenges that remained in the realm of imagination. They remained there, mostly because of geopolitical constraints, but psychological barriers as well. In fact, it was the consensus that something was "impossible" that often stood in the way of the attempt. Rupert Zimmerman would tell you that his earlier projects, far less ambitious than his latest, had almost all defied insurmountable odds. Yet they had been built! Driven to what many considered the end of the world by forces beyond his control, he found a way to go further.

Dedication:

This little book is dedicated to those brave young people, who though I shall not name them here, will likely recognize bits of themselves in the characters I portray. I apologize beforehand for this intrusion into your privacy but feel that the world so desperately needs your story. Your very real dedication and bravery inspired this book and it cannot be written without a foundation of such truth. Most of all it is dedicated to my beautiful wife, of whom the accolade: "Well done, good and faithful servant!" is most fitting. You have stood by me in good times and bad. We have shared in the raising of some incredible young people who inhabited our own home. You have poured your love and wonder into the lives of countless students. I love you with all my being!!!

It is because we both love young people so that I write this. It is but a poor attempt to offer hope and direction to a world so devoid of it. We err, perhaps, in pointing to the hope of the hereafter without providing adequate models and renderings of that Kingdom and those who have labored to bring it into the world we inhabit now. The water that will quench the soul's thirst is dismissed because those who profess to bear it often seem, (to the society around them,) preoccupied with apocalyptic visions and derision for the world as it is now. It is not wrong to love such things, but they are not easily shared with those for whom the flower of life is yet to come. No bride-to-be, having just unwrapped her wedding planner, wants to engage in a lengthy discourse on Eschatology!

Jeremiah of old told those in exile to "Build, Plant, Marry and Have Children, Prosper and Pray!" -- and to be sure, there are many who do. They just don't make the headlines very often. The historical references in this work, and there are probably too many, are essential to understanding how men and women have navigated dangerous times before. They are most necessary to show how one can indeed have vision for one's own times and hope in a greater, unseen reality as well.



Book One: Dinner Stop at the End of the World



OH, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth!" - Rudyard Kipling

The morning sun played upon the flowery tundra of Cape Mountain and Kingigin, the high bluff above Wales Alaska. An arctic fox surveyed the scene as the light played vividly on the Bering Strait. For the years of the Cold War, Soviet and U.S. submarines stalked each other silently beneath the icy waters while fighter jets challenged one another in the airspace above. The Soviets operated a radar station on Big Doiomede Island in the strait. The U.S. Air Force surveyed the scene from an outpost near Wales. Next to the village itself, the U.S. Navy operated a submarine research facility. The hostile environment seemed an appropriate stage for a face-off between the world’s two superpowers.

Captain James Cook named it Cape Prince of Wales in 1778. The Inuit knew it as Kingigin, or 'the high bluff,' and called themselves Kingikmiut, 'people of the high place.' Their ancestors walked into America, it is said, on a bridge of land that once connected Asia to Alaska. Now the icy strait separates the two continents, and as the sun rises on the tip of Alaska, it illuminates tomorrow dawning across the International Date Line. Sunlight gleams upon two thin lines of commerce stretched across the vast strait. The twin spans of the Bering Strait Bridge, completed in 2020, once again connect Asia solidly to America. As morning breaks over the vast landscape, the first trucks begin to roll across the slender spans, carrying the commerce of the world.

Joe fumed inwardly as his rig made its way up the mountainside approaching Wales. He and Chris were in the queue for tonight's hazmat session. The young turk was hauling fertilizer to Siberia from Canada and had missed last night's hazmat hours. Chris and Joe had helped him change a tire that had blown on the merciless road and now he was one of their company. Protocol set him at the front of the convoy, since he was a holdover from last night's roster. Chris, as a senior driver, fell in behind. Joe brought up the rear. "Slow hazmat night;" Chris radioed, "I'm squarely in the 'rocking chair." Joe mumbled: "I hope Abdul does OK with the 'Twenty Questions." He referred to the likely interrogation the man from 'Marlboro Country' faced at the hands of the BSBS personnel who worked security for the span because he'd drawn the hand of hauling a hazmat load. Abdul seemed likeable enough, and had told them about how Turkish customs officials loved to receive cartons of a certain American cigarette in exchange for speedier processing at the border. Still, the retired Israeli Defense Forces personnel contracted to run security on the twin span would likely take some time to get to know him themselves.

Summertime brought a joyful display of color to the arctic hillside. Joe hoped sometime he'd have the opportunity to walk on that landscape, but tonight he just hoped for a rest stop that would time itself so he could SKYPE his granddaughter. 'Kate' as she now proclaimed herself, was in high school now. The child he had had the leisure to watch grow up was quite a wonder now. She would talk about her latest creative endeavor or her latest soccer match with such passion that it seemed to wash the old man with the fountain of youth. These were the men who moved the Bering Strait freight. Younger men stayed for a time, but grew restless. Patient older men and women, for whom time probably moved quicker, made up the bulk of BSB drivers. Most of them seemed to have left their careers in the 'lower 48' prematurely. Castoffs of a struggling economy, they had come to the end of the world to finish their working life making salaries that would make executives jealous. The hours were long, the roads often dangerous, but you had plenty of time to think.

Joe's mind wandered to Willa, a slender brunette with the spirit of a willow tree. She was the love of Joe's life, but life itself had lost much of its flavor in the past few years. Joe had married her in a time when optimism was plentiful and the future had seemed far brighter. He had struggled as a small businessman but their home had been happy. When America seemed to have lost its pioneer spirit and slumped into its economic doldrums, their life together had become tense. Their children had found their own paths in life and Joe found odd jobs to work at, often living in a cheap motel with his colleagues as he worked as a technician in some faraway city. His 'take home pay' often barely covered the health insurance. United States President Barry Soetoro had promised 'free' benefits for all but had only succeeded in making things more expensive. The housing industry, in which Joe had worked, was in shambles. Joe longed to go to Alaska, where opportunity seemed to still reside. Willa resisted. In the end an advertisement for "men willing to endure long hours, dangerous conditions and enjoy huge paychecks" was more than he could resist. A company called Intercontinental Logistics was looking for what they called "Mature Drivers" for the Bering Strait Highway. There was a signing bonus and they trained you. Willa had been devastated, to say the least, when Joe announced that he was headed for the land of the midnight sun. Her dream of happy family dashed by hard economics, she composed herself and tried to win her husband's heart to stay with her in the 'lower 48.' The money didn't matter that much to her. If ever there was a woman who supported her man in crisis, it would have to be Willa. "You are so much more than your career!" she opined. "Look at the lives you have touched..." Indeed their home had been a place where many had flourished in Willa's nurturing love. Joe ached for her sweet presence now, as she did for his! Still, in the end, his faithfulness in sending most of his paycheck to her was a better option than eating up their limited resources. She wished for a simple happy life with friends in their small Virginia community... but the harsh reality was that most of her soul-mates were alone too... their husbands were off working in Alaska!

In the 1950's the Eisenhower Interstate and Defense Highway System was initially planned to include Alaska roads. The designations A1, A2, A3 and A4 were given to Alaska highways and a road was even proposed from Fairbanks to Nome. That road was not built until Rupert Zimmerman needed it and the Interstate designations remained unsigned as traffic, mostly INTRASTATE, did not warrant the necessary upgrades. Now the Alaska Republic was busily widening these arteries and posting Interstate shields to signify their new importance. The opening of the Bering Strait Bridge had ushered in a new age of INTERCONTINENTAL highways. [1.] Like the transcontinental railroads of old, they required men. Good men and lots of them were required to turn the wheels of commerce.

All Trucks Must Enter Scanner" blared an electric sign ahead. Joe and Chris knew the drill. Maintaining a 25 mph speed through the scanner, then a mandatory sampling of the low-temperature liquid adhesive in their tankers, a few questions from the BSBS agents and then they'd be "in the corridor." They would be escorted through the cleared Bering Strait Bridge during the wee hours of the morning. They would be allowed a stop for refreshment at one of the service plazas on the Diomede Islands, but other than that they must keep on moving. The unknown card in their hand tonight was the addition of the Turk to their group. If he was sent to the impound lot, Joe and Chris would roll on. but a delay and further checking could put the whole convoy in a later window. As far as the money, you won some and you lost some, but as they approached Thursday morning, a well timed call would catch Kate at home on Wednesday afternoon. That was Joe's plan anyway. Dinner, he told Chris, should be on one of the Diomedes.


Maintenance operations on the Bering Strait Bridge. 
Graphic by Bob Kirchman

Chris, Joe knew, would want to hold out for Big Diomede, on the Russian side of the International Dateline in the Siberian Autonomous Republic. He smiled thinking of the likely reason. Her name was Kris. She was one of the hostesses at the Big Diomede Travel Plaza and the two drivers enjoyed her spunk. Chris noticed her name tag at the moment she read the name on his shirt, beginning an ongoing conversation. Her green eyes seemed familiar with worlds unseen. Joe suspected she was writing a novel behind that hostess stand. Probably something full of wizards and worlds with more than one sun. It was the kind of thing he loved to listen to in the cab on audio books. Joe had known Chris from his younger days. They had found each other again on the Bering Strait Highway. Joe driven by the throws of economy and a failing business, Chris from his restless soul. Chris had retreated from the vibrant faith that had characterized his younger life. A series of disappointments in life had driven him to question his questions. He'd studied theology for a time, but now avoided discussion of things unseen... ...except that Joe noted, an exceptional individual could, it seemed, 'see' that dimension so well that even Chris would let down his guard. Someone like Kris seemed capable of painting a picture of that realm in vivid colors. Joe, who's faith seemed to sustain him longed for Chris to know something of the same peace. It would, Joe mused, require an exceptional guide.

Chris' softening at the thought of such an encounter, however brief, was encouraging. Though the senior driver never allowed such conversations to become personal, he did seem to be allowing them with greater regularity. "Didn't C. S. Lewis once say something to the effect that if you could imagine something wonderful, it was very likely that there existed the possibility for its fulfillment, or something like that?" Indeed, here was a conundrum. If one limited oneself to considering the seen world, there were many unfulfilled dreams… many labors lost... much observed futility! But, on the other hand, if there was more to life than life itself, dreams could be fulfilled in worlds now unknown. Healing and restoration might just be the substance of such places. The junior driver was betting his life on it. The senior driver might just see the possibilities.

(to be continued). [click to read]


Map of Alaska's new intercontinental highway. 
Graphic by Bob Kirchman


The Intercontinental Logistics Liquid Transporters driven by Chris and Joe.

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The World of PONTIFUS

The World of PONTIFUS
[click to read]

Set, not in the far distant future or past, PONTIFUS actually was written about the part of the Twenty-first Century that we live in. The technology is not so much new and exotic. The story actually takes place after the opening of the Bering Strait Bridge – on November 15th, 2020! When the story was written I merely projected six or seven years into the future because the ability to build such things already exists. I did then see that one day there might be a need for the freedom-loving peoples of the world to perhaps find a ‘new land’ for their ideas to take root in. What would that look like? How might it happen? Sir Winston Churchill, after evacuating the British army from Dunkirk with civilian boats, talked of never giving up. But it is suspected that he envisioned the noble qualities of English civilization continuing in exile in Canada or Australia as Europe was overrun by the National Socialists, hence my reference to Jeremiah 29. PONTIFUS, in this respect, is a story that is not so much dystopian as it is a story of hope – the hope that great ideas DO endure – and that they will influence future generations! (read more)

Revisiting WONDER, Works by Bob Kirchman

Volume XIX, Issue XVI: Revisiting WONDER

Selected Works of Bob Kirchman, an Exhibition

Four years have passed since the WONDER show at Tabor Presbyterian Church in Crozet. As many art exhibits have been put on line for viewing during the pandemic, WONDER is worth revisiting as well. There are links to a more exhaustive collection of photographs of the show. I hope you enjoy it!



The show ran from 09/09/2016 to 01/06/2017 in Crozet, Virginia.

Thoughts on WONDER
[click to read]

WONDER is not, as some might suppose, a  retrospective show, nor is it simply about the photography that I have taken up of late (though some is certainly included). Nor is it a collection of old architectural renderings (though some of those can be seen as well).The show is really about WONDER (as its name suggests), VISION, IMAGINATION and DISCOVERY. This issue of THYME is sort of a companion piece, if you will. The articles that follow are a bit of the thought that lies behind this creative journey. Enjoy them! (read more)

The Venue:

Tabor Presbyterian Church (Directions) [click to view]
5804 Tabor Street (PO Box 446)
Crozet, VA 22932
434-823-4255

The Exhibition:
WONDER I | WONDER II | WONDER III | WONDER IV
[Links to Photos of the Show]


A view of the show 'WONDER' at Tabor Presbyterian Church in Crozet, Virginia.


Xaver Wilhelmy's Design for a memorial at the World Trade Center site in New York. The memorial features a 3000 pipe organ to give a voice to everyone who's voice was lost on that terrible day. Rendering by Bob Kirchman KIRCH001


Xaver Wilhelmy's design for functional stained glass organ pipes embedded in a window. Rendering by Xaver Wilhelmy and Bob Kirchman KIRCH002


This is my painting of University Chapel. When Jefferson created his academic village it did not have a place of worship. In the late Nineteenth Century members of the Charlottesville community raised the money to build this gothic revival chapel designed by Charles Emmet Cassell of Baltimore. The cornerstone was set in 1885, and the completed chapel was dedicated in 1889. The chapel marks a sharp departure from Jefferson's classical forms.
Painting by Bob Kirchman KIRCH003 


Winter scene, St. John's United Methodist Church in Staunton, Virginia.
Painting by Bob Kirchman KIRCH007A 


Journey to Jesus, a mural depicting the nations coming to Jesus in the New Heaven and New Earth described in Revelation 21. Mural by Kristina Elaine Greer and Bob Kirchman KIRCH025

Journey to Jesus [click to view larger images].

The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder.”
― G.K. Chesterton, Tremendous Trifles



To cease to wonder is to fall plumb-down from the childlike to the commonplace-the most undivine of all moods intellectual. Our nature can never be at home among things that are not wonderful to us.”
― George Macdonald



There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
― Albert Einstein



Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.”
― Vincent Van Gogh



An instinctive taste teaches men to build their churches with spire steeples which point as with a silent finger to the sky and stars.”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge


The Great-great Grandchildren of Mrs. Landes and the story of her legacy of hollyhocks. Her hollyhocks still bloom every Summer on Springhill Road in Staunton, Virginia. Her house is long gone, replaced by a gas station but the flowers continue to bless those who pass that way. They were the inspiration for the mural: Heavenly Hollyhocks that Mr. Kirchman painted in Charlottesville, Virginia.



Hymns Triptych Team: Kristina Elaine Greer, Benjamin Riley, Bob Kirchman.


Staunton Alliance Church Children's Mural Team: Kristina Elaine Greer, Bob Kirchman.


Bob with his student, Savhanna Herndon.


Savhanna Herndon acted as a host of the event. Here she greets children at the colouring table.


The Colouring Table was the center of activity.