The Troubadour: The Roar of Cannon, Dave Daymont Escapes Electrocution and The Imaginarium.

Hello Troops,
That is the roar of cannon heard over the distant hills. The Easter Holiday truce is ending. We make ready for battle in our war against Ignorance. Monday brings a return to work for me and a return to school for many of you.

There is an oddity on our Space Center schedule for the week.

Notice all the red boxes? Those are booked missions. On a normal week you'd see a mixture of red and blue boxes, blue boxes being open time slots. There are no open mission slots this entire week! That makes this week unusual. All red is a good thing. More work means more operating money. More operating money means money to improve our ships and upgrade our programming and computers. Our staff will be busy working all those missions and getting through their finals.

I started the Voyager yesterday to see if the old gal would cooperate. We do start up tests after every holiday lasting one week or longer because our simulators have personalities of their own. They have a tendency to act out if they feel the slightest neglect. They're use to copious amounts of TLC from the staff and volunteers. When the TLC isn't forthcoming they react by not functioning correctly upon our return.

I walked through the Voyager before I did the start up and thanked her for 21 years of devoted service. I remarked how good she looked for a ship of her age, and considering the number of missions she's run and the countless number of children she's cared for. I told her I was there every day of the week, working in the office. I reminded her of the numerous repairs she's received over the last year - all very costly. I reminded her of the cool new $50 lamp I installed at the decoding station during the break. I told her I really needed her to give me a great start up. She did. We should be good to go tomorrow.

The Magellan, Odyssey, Galileo and Phoenix also passed their start up tests. We are ready for a very busy week. The only possible hiccup could be the Commons Room. The Space Center's Great New Wall separating the Commons Room from the Sixth Grade hallway is unfinished. We need the Commons Room for Monday's planetarium shows. I'm hoping the painters come in early Monday morning and get the sanding done so we can clean the floor and get set up for the 10:00 A.M. show.

Set Director Dave Daymont Nearly Electrocuted

Phoenix Set Director Dave Daymont showing his electrocuted finger.

"I went to the Stage to check on the landing party set up," Dave explained while rubbing his ring finger in an effort to restore blood flow and feeling. "One of the volunteers was reaching down to unplug one of our lamp props. I saw the faint glimmer of exposed copper." Dave stopped and tried to catch his breath. The retelling of the story was taking a toll on his composure. I could see Dave was suffering from minor shock. I told him to sit down and relax before continuing with his story.

"You saw the exposed copper..." I said to remind him of where he'd left off in the telling of the tale.

Dave took a deep breath and continued. "I saw the exposed wire and started across the stage toward the lamp. I shouted to the boy not to unplug the plug from the wall. He wasn't listening. He had his iPod going. I wasn't looking where I was going and tripped over one of the overturned chairs we use as props. I hit the stage hard, slid forward and got to the boy just in time to grab the cord out of his hand. The shock was powerful enough to clamp my jaw shut. My teeth are hurting. There were sparks everywhere. I'm lucky to be alive. Look at my finger."

I shook my head back and forth in disbelief at his heroic actions. "Can you feel your finger?"

"Don't worry. I'll be OK," Dave answered, not wanting anyone to make a fuss. "Don't tell my wife what happened. It will only worry her. She always gets nervous when I'm around electricity."

Dave gets our Hero of the Month Award for his dramatic actions in saving one of our volunteers from a shock.

Great Job Dave!

From the Imaginarium