50th Anniversary. Yuri Gagarin: First in Space

Cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin.

Yuri Gagarin. First Man in Space
By Mark Daymont
Space Center Educator

Fifty Years Ago, the people of the world were stunned to hear the announcement that the Soviets had launched the first man into space. Senior Lieutenant Gagarin of the Soviet Air Force rode the Vostok 1 into orbit around the Earth. The flight last 108 minutes. Just as he was completing the first orbit, he re-entered the atmosphere to land on Soviet territory. The first capsule he rode did not allow for the pilot to remain inside as it landed; for safety's sake he jumped from the capsule as it descended and floated down on his own parachute.

Instant Hero of the Soviet Union, and the World.

The news spread quickly around the world. The Soviets used this momentous occasion to belittle the United States space program and aggrandize their own. To be honest, they were ahead of the United States in one way: They had the rocket capable of lifting the heaviest payload into space. In the coming days, I'll examine why the US lost the race to be the first to put a human pilot into space.

Vostok 1 Control Panel.

Gagarin was more of a passenger than a pilot for this flight. The Soviet military had only sent up dogs before this flight, and were not entirely sure that a human would remain coherent during weightlessness. Mission Control on the ground kept control of most of the flight, with Gagarin providing commentary and observations. He was 27 at the time. Sadly, because of his hero status, he was not permitted to fly in space again. Tragically, he died in an aircraft accident in 1968.

And What for Tuesday?

Hello Troops,
I wrote a very short caption for a picture similar to the one above in The Troubadour's previous post. This is a more interesting one. Perhaps you'd like to have a go?

We are enjoying the second day of our Spring Vacation. During this week long truce we've pulled back from the front lines of battle and are relaxing in the comforts of reckless idle time. No more shelling (constant explosions from the simulators), no more field rations (the WalMart semiplastic rolls kept by the filing cabinet) and no more listening to me barking orders and tossing snide comments like grenades. You are free to explore civilian life. Do you even remember life as a civilian, the days before you signed your life away to The Space Center? That was twenty years ago for me and I'm nearly normal - well nearly as in I nearly won the $15,000,000 lottery, I was only off by six of the seven winning numbers!

So, how about a few things from the Imaginarium to keep you company until you get to wear that fashionable black Tshirt with anchor again (ever wonder why you would ever need an anchor in space?).

This pretty much sums it up.....


How about this for a science classroom decoration. It's the best cross between art and science I've seen in years. It is a perfect illustration of the water cycle (use it for your next science project).


The scores are in and the United States did just as poorly as predicted despite spending billions on education. This is exactly what I'm talking about when I write about our war with ignorance and apathy in these blog posts.

What is wrong with you kids today? And don't even think of blaming us adults for this mess. Haven't we given you great school buildings with cool technology? Never mind the fact that most American kids are raising themselves to some extent. Whatever the causes, it is a sad commentary. On the bright side, I'm happy to report that I don't see this with our Space Center staff and volunteers. You are all the cream of the crop. Keep working hard in school. Let's turn these numbers around.


On the brighter side, what about this as a pirate's costume?


And for a moment of complete insanity..... why would you need to build a building nearly one mile high? This is a proposed building for Saudi Arabia. Guess where they're getting the money to build it? That's right - from us, every time you fill up at Hart's or Walkers!

I want this a tie for church. I think it makes a bold statement.


Now take your average book shelve and add imagination. You see how easy. Everything is better with imagination as its secret ingredient.
And finally, anyone in your family this intelligent?

Finally, a couple of vids to get you started in the right direction. Amazing stuff.......

She Remembers the Voyager

Mary watched the blue Earth slowly disappear, swallowed by the diamond jeweled shroud of space. She held her grand daughter on her lap and thought how fortunate she was to have lived long enough to see her home from such a vantage point.

"This is perfection," she whispered. Her breath condensed on the window then quickly faded from view.

"Why is this perfection Grandma?" Jimmy asked from the seat beside her. Jimmy was nearly twelve. He had his grandmother's bright green eyes and dimples. Using his armrests, he propped himself up with his elbows to look out the portal. He was a seasoned space traveller for one so young, having made the trip back and forth between the Europa Defense Station and Earth several times in his young life. The Earth was gone, leaving only his dimmed reflection staring back at him. He dropped back into his seat, tapped on his Wristnet and flipped through the holographic screens floating motionless before him. He was looking for a new game, anything to help pass the time.

"It's perfection because I'm here with you and your sister and I'm in space, something I've dreamed of doing ever since I was a little girl." Her smile brightened her wrinkled face.

"Did you always want to live off Earth?" Jimmy moved his finger through the air to close the image. He turned to look at his grandmother.

"Ever since I flew on the USS Voyager when I was your age."

"The Voyager?" Jimmy was confused. He knew his grandmother was well over 100. He knew only people called astronauts went into space back then, and she was never an astronaut.

"The Voyager was a make believe starship at a school. We went there for a field trip when I was in the sixth grade." She sat back in her chair, turned toward Jimmy and continued. "I was the communications officer. I got to talk to aliens. It was something I've never forgotten. Ever since then I wanted to go into space for real - and here I am." She took Jimmy's chin in her cupped hand and gave it a grandmotherly squeeze.

"Grandma, my school at the station has three space ship simulators. We learn to fight real aliens, not pretend ones."

Mary looked at her grandson's proud expression . He was a Cadet Lieutenant and always scored well in the battle simulations. If he continued at that same pace he'd be certified for duty at sixteen.

"Life was simpler back then Jimmy. We didn't know anyone else lived in the universe but us. How could we have known the Voyager Probe would make our existence known to the..."

"Grandma," Jimmy interrupted. "They would have found us anyway. Dad says it was just a matter of time with all the TV and radio." Jimmy reactivated his Wristnet and screened his homework. The list was longer than the last time he checked it.

"Look at all this homework." Jimmy slumped further down in his chair with a forced look of exhaustion. "I told dad three weeks was too long." It was his dad's idea that he, his mother and sister spend time on Earth. Jimmy explained to his dad that he'd fall behind in his classes but his dad insisted. He thought Jimmy was too serious for an eleven year old and needed time away from the Academy. Jimmy cleared his throat then remembered his Grandmother. "It's OK Grandma. I'm really glad we came to get you. "

"And now you're my brave little cadet bringing me to the stars. You know what? Your old grandma is feeling like a little girl again. Now, here comes your mother."

Mary's daughter returned from the Steward's Station balancing an armful of snacks. She knew they'd be hungry after awakening from the first sleep cycle, scheduled to begin in ten minutes.

"Now then, are we ready for a nice long sleep?" Mary asked as she began adjusting the Starliner's seats for sleeping. We're several days out from Europa. Our first awakening will be in 24 hours. You'll get to see Mars." She squeezed her mother's hand as she pushed the "Sleep Prep" button.

Soon they would be home at the Europa Defense Station where Father was waiting.

P.S. I found the picture above and felt the urge to add accompaniment. I know, I should remember that a picture is worth a thousand words but, as many of you know, I relish the challenge of writing something to go with a cool picture I find on the net. I did my best to keep the story short. I've been told over and over by many of you younglings that my Troubadour posts are mind numbingly long. I realize several of you have delicate attention spans, so heaven forbid I post anything over two paragraphs in length!

Posts from the Past. A Stroll Down Memory Lane

Hello Troops,
I had a few minutes of quiet at my desk and filled them by reading some of my old YahooGroup posts from years ago. I thought you might enjoy them as well. The first is a short story about Sam Brady. The second is one of our delicious "Vomit" stories. I'm hoping you're having a super duper weekend.

Mr. W.

September 23, 2006

Sam Was Amazed

Mr. Daymont told me about a recent Magellan mission. It was a mixed group of
adults and children. One of the adults just returned from serving in Iraq. Part way
through the mission and during the staff's attempt to take the bridge something
happened that caused Mr. Daymont to push the emergency stop button to the
mission.

On the control room screen Mr. Daymont saw the ex-army crew member jump up on the Magellan's brand new desktops and jump from station to station. He was leaping
across the room to reach the entrance the staff were using to attack from. His phaser
was drawn and ready to neutralize attacking enemy.

Mr. Daymont stopped the mission and brought the situation to a resolution. A
lecture was given on safety and respect for Space Center property. The mission
resumed. After the crew left Mr. Daymont questioned Sam, Magellan's Bridge Supervisor.

"Did you see him?" Mr. Daymont asked.
"Yes," Sam responded.
"Why didn't you stop him?" Mr. Daymont continued the questioning.
"I was amazed," Sam responded. "I was amazed."
I would have been amazed as well. I got a chuckle out of Sam's response and
therefore Sam is back in Mr. Williamson's good graces.

July 23, 2006

What's In The Sink!?

Again, just when you think you've seen and heard everything something happens at the Center that makes you chuckle. Thursday's Overnight Camp was underway. The 43 campers were divided neatly into their simulator teams and led from the gym toward the restrooms and wonderland. I was the last out of the gym. I stopped to turn off the lights doing what I could to conserve electricity. July seemed to be the hottest month in Utah. The school's air conditioners were running around the clock. The district issued orders for conservation. I moved up the hall passing Stacy and the Galileo Crew. Chris and the Odyssey was next. At the junction, to the left, I found Kyle and the Voyagers. I turned to the right for the Briefing Room passing Mr. Daymont and the Magellanites. I reviewed his crew as I passed. They looked to be a very energetic group primarily composed of boys. Halfway through the review I stopped noticing one young boy, ten years old I guessed, squatted down on the floor. His head was in his hands. He looked ill.

"Are you OK?" I asked.
"I'm weak. I think it's hunger," the boy responded in very proper English. I continued
toward the Briefing Room knowing I hadn't seen the last of that young man. There was something in his look that told me our paths were going to cross again before
10:00 A.M. the following morning.

I placed the Rank Papers on my desk and walked toward the Briefing Room. I was
going to model the Briefing of Epsilon for Kyle. Kyle was going to run the mission for the first time, preparing for this week's Leadership Camp. The Epsilon briefing went well. The crew was attentive and engaging. I noticed the clock at the end and realized I went over again - nothing unusual considering my inborn ability to talk and talk and talk and talk. The crew filed out with Kyle. I was gathering their Rank Papers when Brent walked into Discovery with news that the young boy I had meet earlier in Magellan's crew lineup had a stomach eruption. My intuition was spot on. Our paths had crossed again.

"Where did he throw up?" I asked.
"In the bathroom," he responded. "Don't worry, he made it to the sink but the sink is
pretty disgusting."
"I'll take care of it," I said. My first stop was to Mr. Daymont with instructions the boy
was to call home. I went into the bathroom and walked over to the sink which held the
remains of the boy's supper. "Noodles," I thought. It looked like Top Ramen. Partly
digested I guessed from the state of digestion. The smell wasn't too bad. The boy had
eaten a lot from the look of it. I was impressed, especially remembering the boy was very small in stature. I considered my options for clean up. I was inclined to assigned this mess to someone else but who would want to clean up that disgusting mess? I
decided to clean it up myself. I believe a leader should lead by example. The staff
needed to see that I was more than willing to muck in like them and clean up even the most disgusting mess. That is the definition of leader. You lead by example. You let your troops know that you are not above getting your hands mucky when needed.

I gathered a bucked, paper towels, and Liquid 409 - my personal favorite cleaning
solution. Like a knight venturing into the cave to battle the dragon I entered the bathroom rubber gloved, armed and ready to engage the beast from within! The slaying went faster than I thought. I didn't gag once. I left the sink spotless and smelling fresh of 409. With the sink's disgusting contents safely secure in the bucket, my next stop was the dumpster outside.

"You cleaned it up yourself?" Brent asked as I passed Discovery.
"You don't ask your staff to do something you aren't willing to do yourself," I answered pleased that I had a chance to deliver the object lesson. The bucket was left in the custodian's closet full of bleach water. I went to find the boy. I sat him down at the desk in front of mine. We tied to call his parents. There was no answer. He was feeling much better. You could see color in his face.

"You're feeling better then?" I asked him.
"Yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you," he answered. Again I was impressed with his politeness - especially coming from an 11 year old whose upper chest and head
were the only parts of his body visible above the gray desktop designed for children his age.

"Is this the only time you threw up today then?" I asked wondering whether it was just something in his supper that disagreed with his digestion or perhaps there was
an illness we needed to address.

"Just this once," he responded. His eyes met mine as he took a breath preparing to go
into more detail. "You see, it is my dad fault."

I sat back wondering where this line of conversation was going to lead but after starting it I was ready to ride it to completion.

"What do you mean your dad's fault?" I questioned.
"He cooked supper," he stated matter of factly without the slightest emotion as if what
happened was common knowledge to anyone that knew his family. "I throw up every
time he cooks," he finished the thought.

I rudely started laughing realizing the gem of memory I was living through.
"Are you sure it wasn't just the Top Ramen and not your dad's cooking that made you
throw up?" I asked helping him understand that his father can't be blamed for his disliking of the food.

"No, I'm afraid it is my dad's cooking," he corrected me and continued, "My mom cooks Top Ramen and I don't throw up. I only throw up when my dad cooks. It doesn't matter what it is - I throw up. He is a bad cook."

I started laughing again. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders as if to say that is just
the way it is. I sent him on his way back to the Magellan. He was fine and a survivor of his father's failure to cook even the simplest of dishes. We spoke once again Friday morning during breakfast in the cafeteria. I was preparing to draw breakfast to a close and move the campers to their ships when a boy walked up to me with something in his hands. They were cupped in front of his mouth.

"I've had an accident," he said. "I caught all of it in my hands," he continued. From the look of his hand's contents I understood we were suffering from a rash of
eruptions. I sent the boy to the bathroom and turned to dismiss the first crew when something pink caught my eye on the floor between two tables. From all appearances the boy hadn't caught everything in his hands. I walked over to the puddle to be sure. Yes, vomit - pure and simple. Standing near the accident was my Top Ramen friend from the night before.

"It wasn't me this time," he said with a smile.
" I know," I reassured him. "Are you sure you dad's not in the back cooking our
breakfast?" I responded. We both laughed. I dismissed the crews and went for the
mop.

Sliding Into Spring Break

Hello Troops,
Word of a week's R and R has come through by carrier pigeon. The little winged fella delivered it through heavy enemy fire a few days ago. Since then, I've noticed an improvement in everyone's mood. The cold mud of the trenches seems less penetrable. The pork and beans served with tack bread and fatty bacon, once nearly indigestible, is now eaten with appreciation.

Trench warfare is a nasty business, especially when facing the forces of Ignorance and apathy. You never know when the faint whistle from across No Man's Land will sound announcing another attack from the dark forces. We watch them stream up and over the far embankment, racing into our hail of bullets and grenades.

So far, Lady Luck has been our companion, but she is fickle in her affections and could turn the tide of battle to anyone's advantage on a whim. So we soldier on and dream of better days. Until then, we relish the thought of one week away from the front, one week of sleeping in a real bed with clean sheets, one week out of uniform, one week of good home cooking and one week of sunrises slept through and vibrant silent sunsets enjoyed.

Enjoy your Spring Break!

Mr. W.

Monday, Get to Work and Don't Leave Without Your Daily Dose of Imagination....

Hello Troops,
The last week before Spring Break (Alpine District). It's almost here and I hear the collective sigh of relief. We've been in the thick of battle nearly nonstop since Christmas and need some precious r and r (not to mention our battlefield rations. I'm regretting that double helping of beans last night).

I'm preparing myself mentally before walking out the door. Wasn't it a crazy day yesterday? First it was snowing, then sunny, then snow, then warm, then cold, and then all over again.

Irregardless of the changeable weather, there is something constant about The Troubadour, The Imaginarium. Prepare yourself because here it comes.......

• We Start with a bit of Star Wars Humor....

• And while you're still smiling, how about something dangerously close to real life .....

• And for our fans of physics and all other things bizarre.....

• Perhaps something near and dear to so many of you, The Angry Birds.....

• Aren't these the most awesome business cards?

• Yes! There is a real condition with a real name for the ailment so many of the staff and volunteers at the Space Center suffer from. I knew with just a bit of research I'd discover it. Now, what about the cure?

And now, we are at the end,

See you in the Trenches,
Mr. W.


"Studder, Studder and Studder....... That's all Folks...."

Breaking Space Center News. You'd be a Fool Not to Read...

The Lady Christine is Welcomed to her New Stage.

The Troubadours Say Farewell and Welcome

Lady Emily bowed to thunderous applause which echoed back and forth across the Great Hall long after the clapping had ceased. Her time as Manager of the Odyssey Stage was at its end. In her last remarks, she spoke warmly of the 'little people' along the way that made her time on Odyssey's stage so rewarding.

"You are all so dear to me and I shall miss you deeply," her voice was soft, yet loud enough to be heard at the back of the hall and over the roaring fire kept to ward off the chill of a cold Spring. "However, please know that you'll not be rid of me completely. While taking charge of my own troupe on the Valiant Stage, I'll still perform here on these platforms." She held her arms out and turned slightly to the left and to the right, never taking her eyes off her audience - the mark of a true performer. "How could I not? It would be foolish to sacrifice your dear friendships."

Again, applause echoed throughout the Hall. She bowed, then turned to leave. "We love you Lady Emily," one of the youngest in the troupe shouted from the back. The Lady paused, looked to her admirer, and in one stately fluid motion, brought her hand to her lips, formed a kiss and sent it on its way, carried through the darkened Hall on Cupid's arrow. Master Jace jumped to capture the affection and tenderly held it to his blushing cheek.

The room grew quiet. There was anticipation as to who would take the Lady Emily's place on the Odyssey Stage. I stepped from behind the curtain and moved to center stage.
"Friends, we are in this Great Hall to bid adieu to one of our own who found Lady Fortune knocking on her door. Who would not invite in such a guest and welcome her with drink and song? And so, we send Lady Emily on her way to the Valiant with our warmest wishes for success."

Lady Emily, always knowing how to placate the needs of an audience, stepped from behind the curtain for a third final bow. I held my hand upwards to ask for silence.

"Now the question forming on every tongue is who shall take her place on this Odyssey Stage?" I shrugged my shoulders as if the question had no answer. My confused look caused a stirring in the congregation. I paused only long enough to let panic take one beat of their hearts before smiling to assure them that I had possession of the answer all along. They greeted my frivolity with applause, to which I thanked them with a bow.

"There is one who stands forth above all else on this stage. There is one no other could equal in talent and poise. There is one who's spirit and presence causes her contemporaries to withdraw into the shadow of mediocrity when she performs. There is one whom you all know, who demands this stage upon which I stand." I paused to wait for my last words to finish moving throughout the Hall. "Friends, I present for your worship, the Lady Christine!"

The Hall filled with cheering and applause. All left bended knee and stood upright to welcome the new Lady of the Odyssey. The Lady Christine stepped from left stage and walked slowly with arms outstretched in thanksgiving for her people. For several minutes the sound from the Great Hall filled the night air in the village below waking the peasants from their slumber.

After several failed attempts to quiet the throng, Lady Christine stepped before me and held out her hand to ask for silence. The crowd obeyed.
"I thank my predecessor, the Lady Emily, for this opportunity to serve this Troupe of fine Troubadours. I'm grateful for those assigned to this Stage and vow with solemn oath to continue our tradition of excellence. Let all other stages be warned. This Stage called Odyssey will unleash tales of courage, bravery and epic quests as have never been told before. This is a new day and I stand ready for all challenges that hurl themselves against these walls!"

And so it is kind readers. The Odyssey has a new Lady and a new beginning. Let all rejoice and be glad.


Emily passes the Odyssey's Microphone to Christine. This is the Space Center's way of saying goodbye to one Set Director and Welcoming Another. Christine Grosland is the Odyssey's new Set Director. Emily will continue working at the Space Center and takes the position as Set Director for the Valiant Simulator operated by iWorlds. The Valiant (housed in a semi trailer) will open its doors this summer at Thanksgiving Point.

Other Space Center Noteworthy News...

This is Eli. Eli lives in Lehi and earned his One Year Volunteer Service Pin. I'm always happy to give out the one year pins. Anyone that can put up with this crazy congregation of lost souls for one year deserves a pin and million dollars. Luckily, I have the budget for a pin.

This is Josh. Josh is a friend of Eli. Josh is also receiving his One Year of Service Pin. I want Josh to notice that I got his name right. I've been calling him John for quiet some time. At least I was in the right place on the alphabet.

This is John receiving his Phoenix Pin from Alex Anderson, Set Director of the Phoenix.
(Can you see something in John's eyes? Something sinister? Just between you and I, I believe John has a secret ambition to take the reigns of the Phoenix for himself. This will be a bloody palace coup. Will John succeed? Will His Majesty Alex IV lose his head to Madame Guillotine?
Stay tuned...)
Notice the change in John's appearance as he receives his Odyssey Pin from Christine, the Odyssey's new Set Director. His carnivorous appetite witnessed in the previous picture is replaced with the pure bliss and joy of knowing that he was the very first to be awarded an Odyssey recognition from Christine. Perhaps John realizes he will need her help when the dark day comes and his evil plan is unleashed!

Remember Alex, uneasy is the head that wears the crown.


And finally, I wrap up this post by presenting a 5 Years of Service Pin to the Phoenix's very own Dave Daymont! Dave is awesome by anyone's standard and does an excellent job flight directing the Phoenix. He is Alex's right hand man. Perhaps a word of caution to John. To take the Phoenix Crown will require getting by Dave first. Indeed - it will require an almost Herculean effort - and not one you may be capable of undertaking.

Littered is the basement of the Space Center with the heads of those that made challenge. Alex IV takes no prisoners.

See you in the Trenches Troops!
Mr. W.

The Porcelain Unicorn

Hello Troops,
An outstanding short worthy of your time. This is the true story of the Porcelain Unicorn.
Mr. W.

Early Saturday Morning

Hello Troops,
It's early Saturday morning. The campers and staff are asleep, dreaming of great battles in space and carnivorous black holes. I'm about to leave the school, unsheathe the Battlestar from its moorings and set course for WalMart. There's a shopping cart with my name waiting for me by the front door and a friendly greeting from Bonnie, the nicely dressed door greeter (unusual for Walmart) who always has her scriptures open in the doorway to occupy her time during the long hours of the night. I'll pick up the donuts for the overnight camp (Sego Lily Elementary School) and an ice cold Diet Dew for myself (a Saturday morning Treat that get's my long day off to a good start). Funny, but I've never seen anyone from the Space Center at WalMart at 6:00 A.M. on a Saturday morning. I wonder why?

Before leaving, how about a few things from the Imaginarium?

A nice application of a bit of free unoccupied time....

This is a glimpse into the mind of a Flight Director on hour four of a five hour mission.

Typical for university isn't it? Over analysis of something quite simple.

My kind of band aid! Doesn't it sum it up well. It's a lesson our little ones at Central need to learn. You should see them after a slight injury. The sobbing injured party is usually escorted by one friend on each arm. I've learned not to ask the cause of the injury. It always leads to an amplification of weeping and wailing. The secretary is forced to listen to the gruesome details of the bruise. Afterwords an iced sponge is given which miraculously heals the injury.

A chart to contemplate.

Don't ask why. It is just the way we are all wired.

This is what we need to give to the campers instead of M and M's. They won't like playing injured quite so much!

See you in the Trenches!
Mr. W.

Wednesday at the Center

Hello Troops,
Christine just "beamed" up her Odyssey crew to start their five hour mission. I'm at the desk finishing up the April working schedule. It's posted, so if you're a volunteer or staff you can check it on the right side bar of the blog.

The other simulators have missions starting at 6:00 or 6:30 P.M. It is the busy time of year and busy means a steady flow of income. Income is good because of the serious amount of outgo it takes to run the Center. For example, I just approved a large invoice for replacing the smoked plastic that covers the Magellan computer screens. The money streams in and streams out. It is the flow of commerce.

This is Erin W. Erin is happy. This is Emily. Emily is happy. Erin is happy because she is getting her Odyssey pin. Emily is happy because she gets to give Erin her Odyssey pin. Both girls are happy because they get to work at the Space Center. I'm happy because they are happy. The staff are happy because I'm happy. Our campers are happy because the staff are happy. Parents are happy because their children are happy. Communities are happy because their voting citizens are happy. States are happy because their communities are happy. The nation is happy because the States are happy and the World is happy because America is happy. All because Erin got her Odyssey pin.

And the Space Center changes the world, one pin at a time.


And now, on a more serious note.

GAS PRICES

Have a Great Evening!
Mr. W

All in a Day's Work

Hello Troops,
We got a lot accomplished today. Northridge Elementary's sixth grade came on a field trip. We ran Midnight Rescue and got an excellent reception manifested by deafening applause. Our private missions went well. Richard from Plastics Done Right took measurements in the Magellan later in the afternoon. The Magellan's dark plastic used to cover the computer screens has been cracking for years now. It's gotten to the point where it compromises our crew's enjoyment of the Space Center experience. In a few weeks the cracked plastic should be replaced.

Brent Anderson returned from a mission to the Czech Republic yesterday. He stopped by the Space Center to say hello and catch up recent developments. Alex gave him the nickel tour, then we spoke about a few projects he has in mind for our web site.

I left the Center at 6:30 P.M. for the trek home. I had more than my usual share of dogs barking a warning to their uncaring owners that a stranger in a dirty green jacket was walking suspectfully on the town's sidewalks. One dog got loose and came sniffing after my shoes. Its owner followed directly behind calling it off. The dog paid no attention until it got swatted. I thought it funny but outwardly paid no attention and continued on my way.

How about a few items from the Imaginarium before turning in for the night?

Click on the following link and enjoy a model of the solar system in action.....
http://dd.dynamicdiagrams.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/orrery_2006.swf


And a few thoughts


And finally, poor Charlie Brown. What a blockhead!


Have a good evening. I'll see you soon in trenches....

Mr. Williamson

Master Devin Brightens the Great Hall

The Great Hall grew quiet as Master Devin rose to perform. I stood near the fire, leaning against the cold stone mantel. Our company of troubadours sat before him, along with children invited from the farms surrounding the castle. The light of many lamps flickered across the stage, bathing Devin in a warm yellow glow.

The children's voices fell silent as he stepped from behind the heavy wool curtains on the left of the stage. His unsteady walk and uncertain gaze revealed a hesitant resolve. His small thin frame reached center stage. He stopped and turned toward his anxious audience. His bony hands clutched his instrument, his legs quivered noticeably. I feared a sudden loss of consciousness and prepared to intercede if necessary. Such thoughts were unnecassary, for once he remembered to breath, oxygen was restored and color returned to his cheeks. His quivering slowed, he made eye contact with his fellow troubadours, and the children scattered on the stone floor before him gave their attention.

I motioned for the two younger members of our troupe selected to accompany him to step forward. Master Devin calmed with their appearance. He was no longer alone. I stood pleased that he was prepared and willing to accept his first on call performance. With the hall full of children and a missing troubadour, I had no choice but to call him out of the audience and tell him that, ready or not, he would be performing.

Devin cleared his throat, positioned his instrument, glanced at his chorus, nodded and then - with one foot braced forward and one back, broke into story and song. The tale was told with precision. One could tell he was classically trained by our best. I watched the faces of the village children - each mesmerized by his tale of heroism in the face of unimaginable evil. At times they screamed and at times the excitement of his words caused them to squirm in anticipation of what was to come.

The sand in the hour glass on the Noble's oak table was near its end all too soon. At one and one half hours Devin and his chorus finished to thunderous applause. Afterwords, I congratulated our new Troubadour with hand outstretched. Devin's firm grasp confirmed a confidence I was sure wasn't there before.
"You did well Master Devin," I spoke so those closest could hear.
"Well enough to collect coin?" he responded. I smiled - realizing he'd waited long for his opportunity to stand alone on our stage.
"Not quite," I answered. "There is the matter of finalizing your training on the largest stage. Spend time there, show us your talents with larger groups - and coin will be your reward."

He seemed pleased and turned to accept the continued warm acceptance from his new brothers and sisters in the troupe.

Welcome Devin.

Mr. Williamson

Boys and American Education

Hello Troops,
Janice Shaw Crouse, Ph.D. is director and senior fellow at The Beverly LaHaye Institute. In a recent article she discusses a growing problem with boys and schools. I've seen this trend myself and am concerned that we, as educators, should find ways to reengage boys in learning.

Your Thoughts?

Mr. Williamson

What's Happening to Boys in our Schools?

More and more men are lagging behind women in educational attainment and thus lack the credentials to compete in the marketplace. Take college graduation: 34 percent of women (ages 25 to 34) have earned degrees compared to 27 percent of men. This fact alone leads to fewer men in graduate schools and in the high prestige and high salaried jobs. Even in areas typically dominated by men -- like law, medicine, and business -- women are excelling and their numbers and proportion are growing in comparison to men. Clearly, in our eagerness to level the playing field for women we have seriously destabilized the balance between the sexes to the detriment of males. Kathleen Parker was right when she challenged our culture to "save the males." As Christina Hoff Sommers said in her book, The War Against Boys: How Misguided Feminism is Harming our Young Men, the fact that "women are significantly more literate, significantly more educated than their male counterparts" is likely to create a "lot of social problems;" the lack of enough well-educated men does not "bode well" for anyone, particularly the growing numbers of sophisticated women.

Increasingly, men are finding their identity in their hobbies (fishing, hunting, racing, sports, etc.) instead of their careers (where they are falling behind women in achievement and status) or their roles as family providers and protectors -- both categories scorned by feminists. Previous generations of men had clearly identifiable roles and opportunities to show their physical prowess and courage -- through providing for and protecting their wives and families both at home and against the nation's enemies at war. Men knew that they were needed; today, young women are told that they "don't need a man" for anything. Males used to become "men" when they "took a wife" and assumed adult responsibilities. Now, instead of serious, dignified, and decisive male role models in the movies -- like Cary Grant, Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy, and Gary Cooper -- males today are more likely, as Kay Hymowitz observes, to identify with and to emulate "overgrown boy actors like Steve Carell, Luke and Owen Wilson, Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell and Seth Rogen."

As a society, we must revive those values and ideals that provided strong incentives for young men to pass the tests of adulthood. The first steps of a solution are quite simple: we must begin by (1) scorning and ostracizing those men, no matter how rich and famous, who fail to take up the responsibilities of being a husband when they father a child and (2) demanding that our public school teachers unlearn those pernicious myths absorbed in college and graduate school and start re-creating an environment, starting in kindergarten, that respects masculine traits and behaviors: that is to say, stop demanding that little boys act like little girls and punishing or medicating them for acting like little boys. Less than this is, on the one hand, to continue to accept what is unacceptable, and on the other to continue to discriminate against our sons and brothers.

We will not succeed in making a new start until we stamp out the myth that young women can do just as well without a man. Unless we change that thinking, our society will be the poorer. As long as the male half of the population is disparaged, denigrated, and infantilized, they will lack the motivation to "man up" and become responsible and accomplished men.

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