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Sunday, September 16, 2012

Voyager Lingers in the Land of Silence

Voyager Lingers in the Land of Silence  

The Voyager lingers in the Land of Silence.  Quietly and patiently she waits.

Her Bridge is still.  Where are the crews which once listened to her tales of brave sailors in the starry skies?  Are the villains in our adventures victorious?  Have our heroes faded away?

What is to become of our Lady Voyager?  Will we enjoy her ballads again?

We watch the canvas sails; waiting and listening for the swells of a patriotic wind calling us to our duty.


Yesterday I stopped at the school to grade a few math papers and answer an email or two.  It was a warm Saturday afternoon.  The mountains towering above the neighbor's trees blushed with Autumn.  This is my favorite time of year.  

I stepped out of the Battlestar and paused.  I saw something I'd never seen before.  It was a Saturday afternoon in September and the parking lot was empty, save for my Battlestar.    

The Space Center traffic was gone.  There were no cars filled with overly excited groups of children talking, laughing and shouting as they arrived and departed from this, the happiest place on Earth, (at least, of course, within a day's carriage ride of our Pleasant Grove).

I walked behind the school toward the Voyager's outside entrance.  I wondered if I had I stepped into some kind of  parallel universe?  The staff and volunteer's cars were gone.  There were no black shirted volunteers crossing the blacktop expanse carrying trash cans overflowing with pop bottles, decoded mission papers and pizza boxes.  It was quiet, except for the subdued shouting coming from the far end of the playground.  Two young soccer teams were in the throws of a fierce competition.  

I entered the school to feed the fish.  They were as confused as I.  It was 3:30 P.M. on a Saturday. The school's foyer should have been alive with adolescent crews loading their ships for their space edventures.  There were no explosions or huddled groups of volunteers blocking the halls.  There were no Supervisors in blue, barking orders and wondering why no one was listening. There was no music filling the halls or the sound of thick accented ship engineers gently leading their captains to the obvious solutions to their perplexing problems.

No, it was just me and the fish.

That is all.

I took my camera and took a few pictures to remember the day.  It was surreal.  The school felt sterile, like a piece of its soul was missing.

Be persevering Troops!  With a bit of luck and big chunk of change, we hope to be flying again soon.

Mr. W.

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