Odyssey's New Pin

Hello Troops,
This is the new pin designed by Dave Daymont with input from several other staff that happened to be passing the computer when he unveiled it to the universe. It arrived just in time for Honor's Night, held last Thursday. The package came from China. I got its tracking number from the Internet and had a semi enjoyable time watching it make the hop skip and jump from China to Hong Kong to Alaska to Seattle to Salt Lake and then finally Pleasant Grove. All in two days (and they say faster than light speed travel is impossible. NASA isn't consulting the right people. I say bring UPS on board. They'll show you how to get things delivered quickly. If NASA can get a probe to Mars in less than a years time UPS should be able to do it in a week. Remember, Brown can do it!)

Odyssey's Set Director is Emily Perry. She has a team of flight directors that do an excellent job keeping the Space Center's busiest simulator in tip top shape.

The Odyssey pin is available for sale in our small gift corner located in the Discover Room. Buy a pin and make Emily and her staff smile. Buy two pins and you get a hand shake and a two minute audience. Three pins and you've made friends for life!

Mr. Williamson

Weighed, Measured, and Found Wanting

Hello Troops,
This is a Blast Post from the Past. For many years I posted updates, news and comment on the Space Center's YahooGroup. Now we have this blog. I've decided to repost some of our YahooGroup's posts to the Blog for safe keeping. This is a post I wrote on September 2, 2007.
Background: That week in September I decided to scrap our problematic Phoenix simulator controls and install the Odyssey's simulator's controls in their place. The Odyssey's controls were stable and reliable. I felt it would make life easier for everyone and bring a sense of uniformity to the Center.
The reaction I got to my decision was quick and severe from many staff and volunteers. That reaction forced me to rethink my decision. In the end I relented and the Phoenix was given new controls programmed by Alex A.
This post was written at the height of the conflict when it looked like a lynching was in my immediate future. It was my way to attempt to bring a bit of humor into a tense situation.

Mr. Williamson

And now, a Blast Post from the Past. September 2, 2007


It was rather chilly at the Space Center. The temperature at my desk was a good ten degrees lower than the rest of the room. It wasn't an atmospheric abnormality
that caused the difference but rather a human generated Arctic breeze, like a cold
front from Canada, powered by the bitter looks and icy purpose from many of the staff pushed in my direction by the toss of a head or the glance of an eye half covered with a dropped eyebrow. Accompanying the evil eye was a wrinkled nose associated with a putrid smell.

Lately I've been afraid to leave the safety of my extended desk. It was my fortress of solitude. I sat at my chair wearing my winter coat and double stitched long johns. I would watch for a drop in traffic to make a dash for the toilet or quench my thirst with an icy cola from the faculty room.

Friday afternoon I saw a chance to escape. It happened before the overnight camp. I moved from my desk toward the door. I took all precautions before making my move. I looked both directions and saw the coast was clear. I got down on all fours and put my ear to the carpet to listen for approaching footfalls. I heard nothing but found a quarter and two M&M's. They were quickly ingested to quiet a stomach left untended for several hours. I stood up, reached for the "Enforcer" and walked to the edge of the desk . I licked my finger and held it over my head to detect an approaching cold front - Nothing. I moved. I moved around the desk and raced for the Briefing Room's Door. I made the corner around the Phoenix and felt the air chill to the point my breath was visible. In the doorway stood Megan and Alex. They were backed by Dave, Stacy, Matt, and what appeared to be a mob of smaller humans all wearing black t-shirts with anchors on their back.

"Going somewhere?" Megan asked. The smile was penetratingly cold. I was still. My first instinct was to retreat to my desk. I began moving backward but stopped when I felt the chill rotate to my back indicating my escape was blocked by a human glacier.
"Get Him," she shouted. Alex moved quickly diving forward and taking me down with a thud. The back of my head hit the carpeted floor knocking several of my senses loose thus causing the temporary loss of movement in my arms and legs.
"Bring Him," was the next thing I heard half dazed from the trauma. I was half carried and half pushed down the hall to Discovery.
"Put him in the docket," I heard Dave say. My head was clearing. I was able to make
out my surroundings. It was the Discovery Room - but different. I was led to a roped off area. At the front of the room I saw a large statue of a blindfolded woman holding scales in her outstretched hand and a sword in the other. Along the far wall, half
obscured by darkness, sat a jury of twelve staff and volunteers. I was placed in the
defendants box, guarded by two members of the Programming Guild armed with phasers. Discovery's door closed behind me with a bang. There was mumbling. Heads turned from me - toward the front of the room and back to me. One person walked toward the cage. It was Mr. Mark Daymont wearing black legal robes. The white wig of an English Barrister rested awkwardly on his head. I leaned forward to tell him to take the stupid thing off but was cut off when he placed a finger to his mouth motioning that I should remain quiet.
"I'm your defense attorney," he whispered.
"Nice wig," I replied forgetting his admonition to stay quiet.
"Get Serious," he said sternly looking around the room as if trying to find a sympathetic face. "You are in a lot of trouble and I don't know If I can get you out of it. Luckily my brother is one of the judges."
"Its about the new Odyssey controls being installed in the Phoenix isn't it," I said,
already knowing the answer to my own question. He looked at me as if I were stupid and nodded his head. "I knew I should of consulted the Phoenix staff and others but
..." he stopped me from continuing.
"That `but' you were about to add, will be your defense and possibly save you from Madam Guillotine," he moved from my cage, took two steps forward, and sat at one of the tables reserved for the defense. I peered across the dimly lit room trying to
recognize the prosecutor. It was a female. It was Megan! Her table was covered by Space Center Law books, legal pads, and pens. She was surrounded by well wishers. The looks on their faces provided the meaning to the words I saw them speaking but couldn't hear because of the distance. At that moment I fully realized how my decision to replace the Phoenix Controls with Odyssey Controls had upset so many people.

I noticed that my defense table was empty except for Mr. Daymont pouring over copious notes while shaking his head as if in pain. The head motion was accompanied by an occasional hissing sound as he took in air through clenched teeth.

The room grew quiet. The hour had arrived. I felt I had made the right decision but
executed it poorly. Now it was time to pay the piper. Would the staff let me keep my head or was this it. A sound was heard outside. It was he sound of wood sliding
across wood and then a loud CHOP followed by a pause then repeated two or three more times. The `Madam' was being prepared. A few minutes later Discovery's door opened. In walked two of our new volunteers each wearing red armbands. They held trays of newly cut watermelon.

Dave Daymont, the head judge, nodded his head giving them permission to pass the fruit out to the spectators. My heart sank as Mr Daymont's head dropped to the table amidst the sound of slurping.
"This is good. Look very few seeds," Kyle Herring said as he studied his slice.There were a few grunts of agreement from those around him.
"Sometimes the best of intentions can go wrong," I thought. I leaned back in my seat
thinking what I would say in my defense. My thought was interrupted by the sound of the gavel. Everyone sat up and faced the front. The trial of the century was about
to start.

Science vs. Religion. The 500 Year Old Debate. A Parent's Call.

Are we guilty of spreading humanism in Shangra La, our valley that time has forgotten? According to a phone call I received this week we may be. If so, the penalty is swift and severe. First, a knock at your door. This usually comes in the middle of the night. A car is kept running in the drive waiting to take you to the inquisition. From there you become a number in someone’s logbook kept in a dusty desk drawer.

The phone rang on Thursday. I answered. A kindly woman’s voice was heard on the other end. “I’d like to speak to someone about a concern,” she said. My hear rate increased. We receive compliments on a regular basis. I’m use to those. But complaints are a different matter. They are rare and when they surface my entire body reacts in a primal way. I’m guessing its in the genes. My glands pour adrenaline into my veins as I prepare to fight or run.
“Go ahead,” I answered, waiting eagerly to find out the cause of the phone call.
She explained that her 12 year old son visited the Center the night before with a group of home schoolers and did the mission ‘Perikoi’. He came home very excited and began telling her the story of the primitive planet with people that couldn’t learn science because the Gods wouldn’t let them. The Gods wanted to keep the people naive and stupid. He explained that they destroyed the Gods so the poor unenlightened people of Perikoi could study science and advance.
“I was shocked when I heard him tell this story,” the mother continued. “Who writes these stories?” she asked.
“I do,” I replied. My heart was beating faster. I knew where the conversation was going. I knew I was talking to a very religious mother who believed I was on some kind of public school crusade to root religion and its apparent numbing effect on the masses out of the children that visited the Center and replace their faith with the false religion of science.
“Is that what your son got out of the mission?” I asked.
“No, he had a great time.” she continued. “The message didn’t sink in but it could have. I’m wondering what the purpose of that mission was. You must understand that it seems your telling the children that President Hinkley could be a false prophet and using religion to take tithing from the people for his own use.”
I wondered why she was using President Hinckley instead of President Monson but I let that go.

My first reaction to something like this is to attack back. I explained to her that ‘Perikoi’ has been told to thousands of people, most of them LDS and not one complaint. Missionaries did this mission. So have church youth groups. All left without a complaint or concern. All had a great time.

After a few minutes I realized she wasn’t calling to nail me to the wall but to simply voice her concern that the message of Perikoi may not be the one I think it is. She listened cordially as I explained the plot of the story. I told her that from a religious viewpoint the story had a very good lesson - beware of false prophets. Aren’t we told that by their fruit ye shall know them? The ‘fruit’ of the false Gods of Perikoi was evident in the story. I explained that the story was one of greed and the abuse of a primitive people by others more advanced. It is a story of slavery, it is a story of European colonialism. In Perikoi the student astronauts liberate a planet from false prophets and slave traders.

Once again, she was very pleasant in voice and was kind enough to listen to everything I said. I told her I would consider her feed back. The call ended with both of us thanking each other for listening.

When I wrote Perikoi I had a gut feeling deep inside that someone may misunderstand its message. This happens whenever a mission encroaches into something controversial - be it politics or faith. But you realize that history is messy for it is an account of the good, bad, and ugly in humanity. History is something I can't change and it is best we face it head on and not skirt around its edges in fear we may not be PC or offensive to a segment of the population. Let's face the facts, Europeans were considered Gods by some of the primitive inhabitants of America when they arrived and abused that position of respect and worship. This story of the strong unjustly enforcing their will on the weak is as old as humanity itself. It is something our young people should understand.


I won’t change Perikoi. It is a good story with a strong moral; however I want everyone to understand that I’m not on a crusade to replace religion with the faith of science and Darwinism. I don’t think the God I worship would appreciate that and he is someone I don’t want to displease. Perikoi teaches students to respect and study science for what it is and can do for them. Science is a driving force for change and has both radically improved our lives and in some cases made life more difficult. We are surrounded today by the by products of science It is in everything we touch, see, feel, and smell. Science is our way of understanding the universe and that, in my believe, is the essence of God himself. I believe that science and religion need not be enemies. How can they be? To me they are one and the same. If they seem to be at odds then something isn't understood fully - and that can be something from both disciplines.

So, Perikoi continues to be told in its present state but with the acknowledgement that a few may misunderstand its message. I urge all flight directors to be mindful of their students. It may be wise to review the message of Perikoi with the leaders of religious youth groups and let them debrief the kids at the end of their missions. We should emphasize the true meaning of the mission - education can be a protection against devils in sheep’s clothing and that we have a moral responsibility to look after, support, and defend the weak.

Now, I’ll swab my front door with lamb’s blood and hope the angel of death passes me by in the night.

At the end of the day we will learn that science
and religion are one in the same.

Let’s have a great upcoming week. Do your best in school and work. Remember that much of your success in life involves three things: Imagination, Education, and Hard Work. And just as important are joy and salvation - the fruits of Faith, Hope, Charity and Love.

Mr. Williamson