Hello Troops,
From time to time I'll post a guest article from one of the Space Center's 'old timers'. Old Timers are volunteers and staff that have moved on in life but still remain a part of the Center either through occasional visits (even to volunteer) or through emails and letters. This post was written by Austin E. (he is still a minor so I cannot include his full last name). I want to thank Austin for taking time to write and submit this.
Mr. Williamson
As requested by the esteemed and "HONOR"able bossman, I have been given the task of writing a segment about my experience, and memories of the place in this edition of "The Troubador". I accepted, knowing my absence at that place must be a blessing upon mankind, so if I can bring a temporary bad taste to your mouths, then I must do so, with extreme pleasure. (Just kidding... or am I?)
As we all know, the beloved space center has been around for many ages, ranging from the old, spooky, and very... uhm... shall we say, interesting Voyager, to the new and "improved" Phoenix, and of course everything in between. (The Galileo being the futhest excluded) And as such, I have many memories, some good, others bad. But even being my rebellious, and punk nature, I never outgrew the magic and laughter that came from it.
In my younger days as a little trouble maker, I was always in trouble, either from talking back to the teacher, to throwing something in class and getting my recess revoked, or my activities taken from me. But there came a day when I was told about this Space Center that we would be going on a school feild trip to. I was so excited, I could barely keep from shouting out loud! I had been an avid fan of Star Trek (in secret of course), and when asked about it, I shrugged, and said, "Eh. It will get me outta class for a while, right?" But my teacher noticed an extreme change in my behavior.
The first thing I remember about the center was when I took my first steps up the twisted staircase of the Voyager. I was in total awe. The giant viewscreen displayed a crystal clear image of the computer screens, and the music was blasting loudly, with Vics old loading music. I was dumbstruck.
In that instant, my popularity melted away, and my self awareness disappeared. I couldn't make a sound, and my jaw was dropped. As I was guided to my seat at damage control, and I took a seat heavily, I knew in that instant, this was something I needed to be a part of.
I was performing like a champion at my post, repairing systems as the began to appear like bills, and I never once got bored with my job. The time flew by like no other and before I knew it, the music stopped, the screens went blank, and I heard Mr. W's booming voice tell us it was time to return to reality, and I almost wanted to scream. I was at home sitting in that uncomfortable chair. I was alive clicking rapidly on instructions and running papers down to the communications station. And in an instant, I blinked and it was all over. I reluctantly pulled off my uniform, and folded it, taking my time to perfectly fold it into a square, as to prolong my experience. As everyone shuffled off the bridge, I was at last alone, save for the blue shirt collecting uniforms. Ignoring him, I turned around to my seat, and silently said my farewells, placing a forgiving hand on the rail as I turned away, sighing as I walked down the steps.
I guess for me, this was a stepping stone in my life. I have held this place as a temple, a holy ground in which only the truly, and worthy could ever hope to understand. I love how much it has turned out to be a place to bring not only campers closerer together but also its staff. Growing up has been a struggle for me, but I have made many lifelong friends and met so many special people there. I will never be able to replace these friend and memories.
I don't know what the CMSEC means to all of you who have taken the time to read this. But for me it has been a gleaming beacon in the distance and a lighthouse for the lost. It is a place to find unity, to build friendships, as well as a sense of security in knowing your not alone. I have found many friends and even love in this place. So, comrades, we are one together and the magic will always remain in its halls and decks so long as we stay united. And most importantly, never forget why it is there. We are the instruments in which it needs to survive and without your help, it won't stay on course.
That's it for me. I will return to my life working as a mechanic for Toyota and you will return to checking your email. But let's never forget the place where we always find acceptance and will never be turned away from. The Center has many years left in her and if we help her and its captain through the gauntlet, we will live to see her prosper, and live on, long after we are gone.
With my regards, respect and love,
L8tr guys,
Austin E.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
The Troubadours at Midnight Mass.
Once again I write about our staff in a different setting outside the Space Center of 2008. I enjoy taking bits of current staff news and placing it in a story set either in the future or the past. All I ask is that you humor me as I exercise my imagination.......
Mr. Williamson
The Priest’s voice echoed through the cathedral. The gray stone walls tossed his words back and forth until all that remained was a whisper lost in the rafters. My knees rested on a dark wood plank attached to the pew before me. My hands clutched each other in prayer. My eyes closed then opened.
His Latin was both a stranger and friend to my ears. A stranger, for the meaning was lost to all but those who spoke the Roman tongue. A friend, for I knew the Priest’s words were spoken in supplication to God on my behalf. It gave me comfort on that bitter cold Christmas morning in the Shire.
I watched my prayers escape my lungs forming white clouds disappearing as moisture on my hands. Each prayer asked God for health, the warmth of summer, good harvests and good stories with song. I pulled my woolen coat closer to my chest. I was disappointed that my coat had surrendered the argument to winter's temper.
The priest wore fine silk and linen. I wondered if he felt the cold. His vestments were fine compared to the simple wool my fellow troubadours and I wore. He lifted a golden goblet filled with wine toward heaven. An alter boy rang a small bell. We are told this is the time the wine turns to Christ’s blood which was shed to take away our sins. The sacraments connect us to God, forming a bridge between Earth and Heaven. There is comfort in knowing this when the time comes to lay down our earthly cares.
I took my attention off his words and gazed down the pew to my fellows. This was the right place and time to thank God for such fine company. There assembled were the Christian souls I shared my days with. All on bent knee - some in reverence, others in respect and the youngest out of duty.
My thoughts were disturbed from behind by soft laughter. Two of our maidens were whispering. Their eyes found the Baron’s oldest son. They seemed more interested in discussing his fair nature than attending to their praise of Christ's birth. I cleared my throat and lowered my eyebrows to show displeasure. They understood and redirected their devotion. Our younger Troubadours are growing older, and with age comes thoughts of love. It is natural but not in chapel.
I returned to my prayers. The choir sang. The melody of their voices in chant brought a sense of warmth to the congregation. I saw Master BJ accompanied by his sister Maiden Megan. He seemed content. Word had come from the Bishop that his application to join the brotherhood was accepted. He will soon wear the robe of the traveling friar and join our former troubadours Masters Bracken and Casey as they carry the gospel to the heathen in far off lands.
Our travels take us to distant points as we practice our trade of story and song but Master BJ’s road will take him even farther still. He will embark in the month of March for a place beyond the Holy Land. A place known only to God.
Maiden Emily joined us for the service. We were pleased. She escaped a wagon accident without injury. She had a misunderstanding with another wagon concerning who should yield the right of way. She lost the argument. The wagon can be replaced but not the talent of a gifted performer. She has a spirit that never stops but we hope she remembers that wagons must from time to time.
My thoughts were brought back to the present by the ringing of another hand bell. The congregation began to repeat the Priest’s words. I heard something that didn't sound like Latin. To my left I saw Master Mark asleep with head in hand. His snoring was gaining volume in an attempt to challenge the cathedral organ for dominance. Staying awake past dusk was a challenge for him. Staying awake during Midnight Mass required a miracle. That miracle came in the form of Maiden Brittany. She nearly sent him to the stone floor with a gentle nudge. There was hushed laughter from the younger Troubadours. Maiden Metta brought reverence back to the pew with a glance and a finger to the mouth. Master Mark glanced up and down the bench. He would remain awake as long as our eyes were upon him. I'm reminded once again that Living a simple life teaches you to find humor in the simplest of things.
The Mass was nearing its end. I returned to my prayers. We live in troubled times. There is uncertainty in the Kingdom with a new king soon to be crowned. There are wars in foreign lands. There is news of a plague in nearby Shires. So tonight, and all nights of this holiday season we remember how fragile our time is and how grateful we are for another year with family and friends. We are blessed by the knowledge that as long as we have our kinsman and friends we can weather all obstacles.
Again, my thoughts returned to the Mass. My knees felt locked with the cold. I was glad the service was at an end. It was time to stand. The large wooden doors of the cathedral opened introducing us to the north wind. A warm fire and bed awaited.
Mr. Williamson
The Priest’s voice echoed through the cathedral. The gray stone walls tossed his words back and forth until all that remained was a whisper lost in the rafters. My knees rested on a dark wood plank attached to the pew before me. My hands clutched each other in prayer. My eyes closed then opened.His Latin was both a stranger and friend to my ears. A stranger, for the meaning was lost to all but those who spoke the Roman tongue. A friend, for I knew the Priest’s words were spoken in supplication to God on my behalf. It gave me comfort on that bitter cold Christmas morning in the Shire.
I watched my prayers escape my lungs forming white clouds disappearing as moisture on my hands. Each prayer asked God for health, the warmth of summer, good harvests and good stories with song. I pulled my woolen coat closer to my chest. I was disappointed that my coat had surrendered the argument to winter's temper.
The priest wore fine silk and linen. I wondered if he felt the cold. His vestments were fine compared to the simple wool my fellow troubadours and I wore. He lifted a golden goblet filled with wine toward heaven. An alter boy rang a small bell. We are told this is the time the wine turns to Christ’s blood which was shed to take away our sins. The sacraments connect us to God, forming a bridge between Earth and Heaven. There is comfort in knowing this when the time comes to lay down our earthly cares.
I took my attention off his words and gazed down the pew to my fellows. This was the right place and time to thank God for such fine company. There assembled were the Christian souls I shared my days with. All on bent knee - some in reverence, others in respect and the youngest out of duty.
My thoughts were disturbed from behind by soft laughter. Two of our maidens were whispering. Their eyes found the Baron’s oldest son. They seemed more interested in discussing his fair nature than attending to their praise of Christ's birth. I cleared my throat and lowered my eyebrows to show displeasure. They understood and redirected their devotion. Our younger Troubadours are growing older, and with age comes thoughts of love. It is natural but not in chapel.
I returned to my prayers. The choir sang. The melody of their voices in chant brought a sense of warmth to the congregation. I saw Master BJ accompanied by his sister Maiden Megan. He seemed content. Word had come from the Bishop that his application to join the brotherhood was accepted. He will soon wear the robe of the traveling friar and join our former troubadours Masters Bracken and Casey as they carry the gospel to the heathen in far off lands.
Our travels take us to distant points as we practice our trade of story and song but Master BJ’s road will take him even farther still. He will embark in the month of March for a place beyond the Holy Land. A place known only to God.
Maiden Emily joined us for the service. We were pleased. She escaped a wagon accident without injury. She had a misunderstanding with another wagon concerning who should yield the right of way. She lost the argument. The wagon can be replaced but not the talent of a gifted performer. She has a spirit that never stops but we hope she remembers that wagons must from time to time.
My thoughts were brought back to the present by the ringing of another hand bell. The congregation began to repeat the Priest’s words. I heard something that didn't sound like Latin. To my left I saw Master Mark asleep with head in hand. His snoring was gaining volume in an attempt to challenge the cathedral organ for dominance. Staying awake past dusk was a challenge for him. Staying awake during Midnight Mass required a miracle. That miracle came in the form of Maiden Brittany. She nearly sent him to the stone floor with a gentle nudge. There was hushed laughter from the younger Troubadours. Maiden Metta brought reverence back to the pew with a glance and a finger to the mouth. Master Mark glanced up and down the bench. He would remain awake as long as our eyes were upon him. I'm reminded once again that Living a simple life teaches you to find humor in the simplest of things.
The Mass was nearing its end. I returned to my prayers. We live in troubled times. There is uncertainty in the Kingdom with a new king soon to be crowned. There are wars in foreign lands. There is news of a plague in nearby Shires. So tonight, and all nights of this holiday season we remember how fragile our time is and how grateful we are for another year with family and friends. We are blessed by the knowledge that as long as we have our kinsman and friends we can weather all obstacles.
Again, my thoughts returned to the Mass. My knees felt locked with the cold. I was glad the service was at an end. It was time to stand. The large wooden doors of the cathedral opened introducing us to the north wind. A warm fire and bed awaited.
Friday, December 26, 2008
BJ Warner Receives His Mission Call
BJ Warner is one of the Space Education Center's top flight directors. He works in the Odyssey.
BJ sent me this email a moment ago and I want to share it with our Space Center staff, volunteers, and patrons. Congratulations BJ from all of us!
And now BJ's Email:
So, something awesome happened to me Christmas Eve. I GOT MY MISSION CALL!!! I woke up in the morning expecting a call from the post office explaining that my mission call was waiting for me if I was willing to come get it, otherwise they'd send it to me with the afternoon delivery. When I checked the voicemail and caller id, I didn't see anything but a phone call from my grandma and an unwanted solicitor. I'm not going to lie, I was somewhat devastated! So many things had gone wrong with my paperwork and timing issues that I thought this was the one thing that couldn't be messed up! After checking the phone however, I decided someone was trying to teach me a bit about patience. I continued my day, solemn as it became, like any other Christmas Eve, until.... Right before we left for a ward Christmas party, my Dad walked in with an envelope addressed to an "Elder Brett J. Warner"! I was so excited that I didn't pay much attention to the Christmas program. Long story short, my friends and family gathered at Eight O'clock for the long awaited unveiling. Everyone waited anxiously as I pealed open the letter. With each tear of the delicate church style envelope my heart beat faster. My hands were shaking as I shed the envelope and help the papers signed by the big man himself!! I read the paper:
BJ sent me this email a moment ago and I want to share it with our Space Center staff, volunteers, and patrons. Congratulations BJ from all of us!
And now BJ's Email:
So, something awesome happened to me Christmas Eve. I GOT MY MISSION CALL!!! I woke up in the morning expecting a call from the post office explaining that my mission call was waiting for me if I was willing to come get it, otherwise they'd send it to me with the afternoon delivery. When I checked the voicemail and caller id, I didn't see anything but a phone call from my grandma and an unwanted solicitor. I'm not going to lie, I was somewhat devastated! So many things had gone wrong with my paperwork and timing issues that I thought this was the one thing that couldn't be messed up! After checking the phone however, I decided someone was trying to teach me a bit about patience. I continued my day, solemn as it became, like any other Christmas Eve, until.... Right before we left for a ward Christmas party, my Dad walked in with an envelope addressed to an "Elder Brett J. Warner"! I was so excited that I didn't pay much attention to the Christmas program. Long story short, my friends and family gathered at Eight O'clock for the long awaited unveiling. Everyone waited anxiously as I pealed open the letter. With each tear of the delicate church style envelope my heart beat faster. My hands were shaking as I shed the envelope and help the papers signed by the big man himself!! I read the paper:
"Dear Elder Warner:
"You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Japan Nagoya Mission."
With tears in some eyes and complete joy and pride in others, I circled the room, giving and receiving congratulatory hugs to all my closest friends and family.
I leave to the MTC on Wednesday March 25th, 2009! There I will learn to serve the Lord to the fullest of my capacity. I'm excited to be doing the will of my God! I'll miss you all. Thank you for everything you've done for me. Hopefully I'll get to interact with you all one more time before my alleged "two year vacation".
Thanks again everyone, and Merry Christmas!!
BJ Warner
Current Odyssey Fight Director,
Future Missionary
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