A Quick Review of the Past Week. A Few Stories (a bit exaggerated) and a Comment or Two for Good Measure.

The end of our staff meeting. Most already left.
Some still asleep along the back wall (not shown)

Hello Troops,
What weather we’re having. You’d think Utah suddenly shifted its position on the globe and ended up along the Pacific coast . I’m not complaining. I enjoy the rain and clouds but I know many of you are fair weather creatures and thrive on sunshine and heat. I’d like to say I feel sorry for you but I’d be lying and, because this is Sunday, I can’t bring myself to do it.

For our readers outside of Utah I thought I’d show you what our desert kingdom looks like from my deck. Utah Lake is in the distance in the first picture and the other picture is looking northwest toward Point of the Mountain. Beautiful isn’t it? Well almost. This weather did cause some grief during this last week’s EdVenture Camp.

This was the condition of my office before the Camp started. The Odyssey and Phoenix staff were using it as a dumping ground as they prepared their ships. I had a fit. The staff had to hold me down and administer Diet Coke to calm me down. Once calm they rolled me into a corner and did a quick clean up. I was groggy but alert by camp's start.

The camp started on Monday. Everything went well but I was concerned about the temperature. It was cold and didn’t show signs of warming. Taking the campers and staff swimming Tuesday night would be questionable. I became a temporary sun worshipper and took every occasion to step outside to see if my newly found faith was producing the desired outcome. It wasn’t.

Tuesday morning was clear, but cold. I hoped for the best and the day proceeded. The flight rotations ended at 2:00 P.M. The staff were free to go home. The campers went to class with Sheila Powell and Lorraine Houston. I was exhausted. Not a good thing considering I had half the camp still to go and another Overnight Camp on Thursday - not to mention a couple dozen private missions filling in the non camp time slots. I wanted to sneak into the library where we keep the pads and take a quick trip into unconsciousness. The phone rang. It was Pleasant Grove’s swimming pool.
“Hello,” the voice of a young teenage girl came from the answering machine. She sounded like she had just removed her chewing gum to make the call. Her voice was unusually apologetic. I expected bad news.
“I’m calling to tell you that the pool will be closed all day next Tuesday. We are changing the pump. Sorry. There are a few other days available if you’d like to reschedule your private swimming party. Sorry. Thanks.” I’m sure her regret lasted as long as it took to hang up the pool’s phone and pick up her own cell phone to continue texting her friends.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said out loud. What was I going to do with 60 kids next camp if I can’t take them swimming? I remembered I was exhausted and decided to leave the matter for a day or two. Again the phone rang before I could make my retreat to the relative quiet of the Library.
“Hello. This is Pleasant Grove Pool. There’s lightening. We can’t open the pool if there’s lightening. What would you like to do about your private party tonight?” It was the same girl. What I wanted to say and what I actually said were two different things.
“Can I make the decision in a few hours. It may clear up?”
“Yes. That will be fine.”
“Thank you,” I hung up. I walked passed the school’s library and went outside to examine the clouds. They were gray and ugly. Normally I’d be doing a Snoopy Dance with weather like that but not today. I didn’t need the hassle. My temporary conversion to sun worship wasn’t working. Perhaps my devotion was transparent and instead of a blessing a curse was assigned to my case. I returned to my desk and took out the phone book. I knew from my years living in South Dakota that Indians had rain dances. I wondered if they also had sun dances. It was a long shot but desperation can force a man into desperate actions.

To make a long story short I had to make the decision at 7:00 P.M. It was raining. It didn’t look like it would clear in one hour. It was cold. I called the pool and told them we wouldn’t be coming. I removed the Sun ornament I fashioned out of paper clips I was wearing around my neck and returned to the faith of my fathers. I went from simulator to simulator asking the staff to stay on passed 7:00 P.M. and run a special short mission for the campers to occupy the time normally spent at the swimming pool. The staff agreed. They are great! These are people you can trust in a pinch.

This is Rachel. She is Special. She flies the Galileo. Be nice to Rachel.
Those who aren't regret it. Honestly - they do.

To make a longer story shorter- the night went well. The campers had supper and then went into the ships for another mission. They were very happy to get the extra flight time. At 10:00 P.M. we gathered in the cafeteria for a video and then bed at 11:00 P.M. A crisis was averted.
I expected a restful night’s short sleep. I was almost right. I got a very short sleep but it was interrupted by a camper with a sore throat. He wanted to go home. It was 1:00 A.M. I sat up with him while we waited for his mother to arrive to take him home.

The camp ended Wednesday at 6:00 P.M. We survived!

Overnight Camp.

We had a one night Overnight Camp on Thursday. All went well. Braydn Lystrup ran the Voyager’s new mission “A Matter of Honor”. He did well.
I feel good about our summer stories. They are coming together nicely.

Private Missions.

We had a slew of private missions all week. I spent most of the day at the Center on Saturday.

There was a real storm burst Saturday afternoon. We have been trained to expect power outages in storms’ like that. I’m happy to report Rocky Mountain Power held it together and we got through the wind, lightening and pounding rain without an interruption.
I took advantage of an hour’s break and took my car (The Lincoln Battlestar) into Jiffy Lube for a safety inspection. It failed. Something about a belt that needed replacing and a dash light not working. I didn’t need to hear that. I offered the technician a $10 bribe with a wink in hopes of a quick resolution to the matter. I believe he misunderstood my intentions and backed away from me, nearly tripping over the shop vac. I explained the concept of bribery. I explained that this was the accepted practice in third world countries and if it worked there - well why not here? He wasn’t moved by my argument.

I then attempted to illicit pity and claimed poverty. It failed. We compared income. I lost. In the end I gave him the $10 out of pity and he gave me the rejection notice.

So ends the week.

The Troubadours Worship and Rest on the Sabbath

The road into York was dusty and well traveled. We walked slowly, enjoying the fresh morning air and the song of birds. Our troupe delighted in the joy of a day free from our tents, stages, and instruments. The past week was long and we were weary from the persistent needs of our audiences.

This Sabbath day gave us time to pause and reflect on the needs of our souls. And so, being good Christians all, we walked to the Cathedral for Mass.

The sky spoke of rain. It was preoccupied with the subject based on its temperament over the previous days. Our stories and song were interrupted incessantly by thunder’s booming. On several occasions startled horses broke free of their moorings. I was nearly trampled myself had it not been the watchful eye and a forceful push from a visiting blacksmith to whom I offered free admittance to an afternoon performance.

The farmers are pleased with the rain and their crops grow true. Because of the forecast of a good Fall harvest the people are generous with their gold and silver. This generosity fills our tents. Full tents means food on our table and clothes on our back. So we, by reason of necessity, join the farmers and show gratitude for the rain.

The younger in our troupe fell behind as we continued down the road to York. They seemed more interested in whimsy than matters spiritual. I saw several in Farmer Lloyd’s field. I beckoned them forward with haste. The Cathedral’s bells were calling all to Mass. We were joined on the highway by many others. They rushed to our side and occupied our time with praise. This gratitude was well received by our assembly and we, in return, thanked them for attending.

The city’s walls rose before us. We gather at the gate and waited for the last of our troupe to arrive.
“Remember who you are and act accordingly,” I reminded my fellows before we entered the city. I positioned our older Troubadours so the younger were well supervised.
“We are missing two,” Lorraine said while doing a second count. “ It is young Zach and young Merryweather.
“They returned to camp,” Megan reported. “Young Zach once again forgot his belt, even after your admonishment. Young Merryweather accompanied him. I believe neither have an interest in the Bishop’s words today.”
“They will attend presently,” Metta said while looking down the highway. “There, you see them in the distance.” Off in the distance two boys approached. One with fair hair and one with dark.
I sent the troupe forward into the Cathedral and waited at the gate. Both boys were quiet as they passed.
“Zach?” I questioned.
“Sorry. It won’t happen again,” he replied to my unstated question.
“Then all is well. Make haste. The service is about to begin.”

We walked with reverence passed the large, ornately carved oak doors and into the Cathedral to find our fellows. After Mass a fine meal waited and then a day of rest. Tomorrow we take to the stage and it begins anew.

The Troubadours Prepare for Tomorrow's Performances

Tis the Sabbath and the rains are upon us. Church bells are heard in the far distance calling all to mass. Clouds hang low over the Shire’s fields. The mountain tops are obscure and the temperatures speak of fall even though it is summer’s eve. Our merry band of troubadours share a lunch of crispy bread, veal and a warm soup beside a crackling fire. Lady Aleta pours, filling our wooden bowls to the brim. Master Kyle wasn’t mindful of his steps. His lunch spilled from his bowl into the fire causing a great cloud of steam and a hissing reminding us of a snake with a sour temperament. “Perhaps one should be mindful of one’s steps when carrying a fully charged bowl of Aleta’s fine cooking,” I reminded him. His look in response to my kind reminder was not gentle.

All laughed. Lady Megan placed another log on the fire to restore it to its previous strength. “Move along...... move along,” I said to Kyle pointing him back to the boiling pot. “Lady Aleta will fill your bowl and your stomach as long as you swear an oath to be mindful of your step,”
“Take no notice of him,” Aleta said with a beckoning hand welcoming him to the front of the line. Our younger troubadours, in unison, took a step back to allow this much older and wiser member of our troupe to return.

I took pleasure in watching the faces of our youngest at the back of the meal line. Masters Adam and Benjamin seemed concerned the pot would empty before their bowls could be filled. A look of starvation was present in their expression. After all, it had been four hours since their morning meal. They are growing boys and worked diligently pitching the tents and stages set for the first of the season’s performances on the morrow.


Lady Sheila followed my gaze and saw the same concern on their faces.
“My, wasn’t that a delicious meal,” she called out over the fire and heads of our fellows. The volume of her voice, unnecessary due to the proximity of the gathered company, drew our attention to her and away from the fire and contents of our bowls. “Tis a pity it is nearly gone. Dear Aleta, Lady Lorraine and I did warn you of such a turn of events. We offered our services to help in this meal’s preparation after our tent was pitched and wooden benches and tables in place but you refused. Now we see the result of your stubbornness. So many mouths yet to be feed with so little with which to feed them.”

Ladies Aleta and Lorraine both queried Sheila’s remarks. Neither remembered the morning’s events the way she just described them. Before they could object to her obviously faulty memory Sheila stood and held a hand to quiet them. “Masters Adam and Benjamin. Come from the line and sit with me. There is perchance, a drop or two of nourishment in my bowl which I humbly offer to satisfy your hunger.”

Anger replaced starvation in the boys' expressions. A storm was coming. I could see the humor in Sheila’s tale and thought it best to let it continue for a moment longer. The troupe needed merriment at this mealtime and Sheila was providing it . “Boys, why this look of anger? Did I not offer my bowl’s contents to you? Do you feel it not enough? I beg to differ. Why look." Sheila drew her spoon from the bowl. “Look boys, a slice of carrot still warm and whole. I swear my teeth have not disfigured it in any way. Come and let us split it. There is plenty here.”

Master Adam spoke first. “We have pitched the tents and set the tables. We have set the stages and hung curtains. We have cared for the horses and tended to the wagons all through this cold and wet morning. We have done your bidding without a wisp of complaint and what thanks are given? An empty stomach. That is payment for a half day’s labor?”
Benjamin nodded in agreement with and spoke, “We will retire to our tents and not be seen again unless and until a call comes forth beckoning us to this tent to satisfy our hunger and exorcise our foul mood.”

With that both boys turned to leave the meal tent. Lady Aleta spoke out. “Masters Adam and Benjamin. Lady Sheila speaks nonsense. There is plenty in this pot. She is having you on and I’m afraid you surrendered to her wit..” The tent erupted in laughter. I felt it my turn to speak. “Boys, your work is legend with us. All gathered are indebted to you for without your service we could not entertain the people from the surrounding villages and hamlets. Forgive Lady Sheila this moment of merriment. She is an old woman and her mind, once as sharp as the blade of an ax carried into battle, is now a suspect of dementia. Can you not see this levity was sorely needed? Come boys, move hither to the front of this line. None will object. Come and eat .”

All was forgiven. Masters Adam and Benjamin filled their stomachs with return trips to the pot. All present laughed and talked of old times and our hopes for this new summer of 1309. Our five stages were ready. Our plays written and practiced into memory. Our music scored to produced emotion fit the quality of our tales of heroism in the face of overwhelming odds. For a moment in time all was perfect.

I sat closer to the fire. My old bones needed the warmth. I listened as conversations danced around the troupe in circles of memory and prose. Our younger members were learning the trade from the older and wiser as this merry group of Troubadours bring light and magic to the people of the Kingdom. I was once again reminded of something told to me long ago. This band of fine souls I share the fire with are the finest troupe of Troubadours in the kingdom.

The sun reminded us that noon was passed. Master Alex rose from his stool and offered his thanks to Lady Aleta for preparing a meal fit for King and Pope. All stood in agreement. A cheer traveled from our hearts, over and around our tents and into the dark forest surrounding the clearing. Lady Aleta bowed in acceptance and, using her large ladle, pointed the way to the exit. There was still much to do before we slept.