By Megan Warner
Hey guys! It's Megan. This is a little report on the leadership camp. If you're curious about what happened in general or want to know what was going on in the ships you weren't working, this is the thing to read. If you don't care at all, I suggest not continuing. It's up to you.
Mr. Williamson told a bit about the origins of the camp, but I wanted to expound a little. This whole thing came about one day after a bunch of people came over to my house to watch Stargate. (Which is an amazing show, by the way.) We went up to our kitchen and talked for a while, with people slowly trickling out. Taylor and I were the last ones there, and he started telling me about this cool concept he had where we would have a campaign of missions to bring back repeat customers. We ended up talking for what, 2 hours?, and came up with the idea to run a camp with one of these campaigns. And hey, why not make it ridiculously hard and call it a leadership camp? Over the next couple of days, we came up with an extremely detailed proposal for Mr. Williamson and, after quite the battle, got a green light.
For the next several months, we worked our tails off to get this camp put together. Unfortunately, we weren't ready as of two weeks ago. We had a HUGE scramble to get things finished. At the start of the camp, though, we still weren't done. We opened the doors with only a vague sense of what was supposed to happen that night. At some point, Taylor and I strongly felt that we needed some... higher help... and so we went and asked for it. Then, it began.
Thursday night saw the campers rotating through classes on communication, problem solving, and leadership. We gave them all notebooks to facilitate note taking and retention, and I was personally disquieted about how little the kids used them, but it was their call.
After the classes, we brought the campers into the gym to give them their overall briefing on the campaign. Taylor and I had a vague sense of what we were going to tell them, but that was it. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I do remember the feeling it left saturated throughout the room. All our inspired and inspiring talk of sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs really gave them a sense of foreboding. I could see them all, to one extent or another, thinking 'what did we get ourselves into?' When we were finished, they were sent to bed and, from what I know, gave us very little trouble.
Friday morning, we got the kids up at 6:45 with reveille and whistles. It was fun. A quick breakfast was served, and the crews were taken back to the gym for their briefings. All five ships heard all five briefings, for the sake of knowing where everyone else was going. The point of this camp was to make them work together to complete one single, overall objective. They were supposed to beat the Dominion War. Each rotation was intermingled, at least with information and clues being found and supposedly sent to the other ships. Between each mission, the crews debriefed each other, letting the others know what happened. Then it was off again for the next part of the war.
The crews went through two five hour rotations on Friday. During training for one of them, Mr. Williamson came up to me and said we didn't have a pool for that evening. I knew we could easily fill the space, but we needed the time to get set up. Luckily, our wonderful Bossman worked his magic and came back ten minutes later to let me know he'd gotten a pool reservation at Orem and a bus to get us there. Yay! So, after dinner, the kids were off and the scramble began.
We had scheduled for Friday night what we called the ASA, or After Swimming Activity. The time they were gone saw the entire staff rushing around the school setting up, well, a Dominion base. When the campers got back, Jon told them they were now on a mission to gather some vital information about the Dominion's plans for the next stage of the war. They were given several objectives and sent off, with a warning that a ship was coming to get them at midnight and only whatever and whoever was at the pick up point- the lobby- would get back. A couple crazy hours later, the crew failed. They completed a few of their objectives and found a couple of the bonus goodies we left for them, but they didn't get back until fifteen minutes after the ship left them. None of what they'd found- weapons, plans, and schematics- would have any bearing on the outcome of the war. Too bad for them.
Reveille Saturday morning was at 6. The kids got up, slower than they should have, and shuffled into the gym. They were given half an hour to eat and get ready for the inspection they had on their bunks. We'd scheduled more time than that, but they took too long getting ready. The campers scrambled through their cereal to run back and get their barracks ready. From what I heard of the boys and saw of the girls, they did better than any of us thought they were. After they all passed, it was back to the gym and their briefings.
Rotation 3, the campers experienced some problems. They were all tired and starting to lose focus, but that had been our goal. The 'war' had been going on for a year and a half at this point, and we wanted them to feel it. Because of this, most of them didn't complete their objectives like they were supposed to. Oh yeah, we also had our Big Incident. I was in the middle of my flight, trying to get the Phoenix crew to destroy some weapons platforms (instead they got the entire Third Fleet blown up. Whoops.) when someone came in and said we had an issue. I went out to the hall and saw Jon, holding his head with quite a bit of blood coming from behind a paper towel. Yes, real blood. Not something you see too often here. We got Emily to take a look at him, and after a bit of a scare involving pupils and a dead pen light, Jon was rushed off to the Urgent Care center by Mr. Williamson and we all went back to our missions.
At the beginning of the fourth rotation, the campers were told, to put it shortly, that they were in a lot of trouble. They'd done a lot throughout the camp that was stacking against them. They'd have to be really careful if they wanted to succeed. The first half of the mission was pretty much a disaster, and before they were sent off to their lunch of MREs (Meals Ready to Eat- military meals. I think they're quite yummy if you get the right ones) it was reiterated to them that they were behind in their objectives. By a lot. This rotation was the only one split up at all. We'd done it this way because they were supposed to trade information and basically decide that all five ships were going to be needed to finish this war in a good way. Unfortunately, they were all so far behind, they weren't able to trade said data. We started up again with the staff understanding that if the Magellan didn't get into the battle by 3:30, the campers were going
to fail and the war would be lost. Guess what? It didn't happen. There were a lot of factors that added up to become an almost impenetrable wall of defeat, and they were unable to find the chink in the Dominion's armor. We took the crews out to the gym and told them they had lost the war, there was a giant super weapon on its way to destroy Earth, and they all would have died. (We blew the Phoenix up. It was AWESOME! Much cooler than it ever was in the joint Greenpeace Bracken and I flew.)
A good way to describe how the kids did for this camp is 'epic fail'. Thanks Brady for that term. They failed, but it was their fault, they knew it, and it was glorious. Woot.
I wanted to say thanks to all the staff. It was them that really made this thing come together. This may seem really obvious, but Taylor and I couldn't have done this without you. We really appreciated it, and I know the campers did too.
Well, there ya have it. If you actually made it through all this, kudos to you. That was quite the feat. I tried to keep it short, but it obviously didn't work out that way.
Thanks again to our staff, and to Mr. Williamson for having the faith in us to let us try. We're so glad we didn't let you down.
-Megan
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
We Survived the Week from Heck! And Other Things.
We were exhausted and green with sea sickness when the harbor came into view. I stood on deck against the railing. It was a good place to park when tossing your cookies into the churning sea below.
Our Space Center Ship sailed into graying seas on Monday. We knew the crossing could be stormy. But having faith in the ship, and every confidence in each other, we knew there was no calamity that could deter us from reaching the opposite shore. We pressed forward into the gathering wind and darkening sky.
By Wednesday evening the ship was bucking beneath us. Keeping our footing was paramount, keeping our lunch was preferred but nearly impossible. Most if us were in full rain gear manning our stations on deck. And when not on duty, many of us stayed on deck near the railing emptying our stomachs down the side of the ship.
I stood on deck struggling to hold the wheel and steer a straight course. Our Directors took turns beside me calling out orders to the younger sailors. First to take in sail and other times to set sail. The wind was fierce causing our youngest to rope themselves to the masts to avoid being swept away as the tidal waves washed overhead.
Aleta struggled in the ship’s galley. Cooking in a moving kitchen was no easy task. Every pot, pan, knife and spoon had a mind of its own, and unless secured, found itself on the floor in a thoughtless dance moving wall to wall. She barked orders to her kitchen help (when someone could be spared), ordering them to hold this or pour that. Miracles were performed in that Galley. All meals were ready on time. They were delicious and nutritious, if the sea would let them stay in your stomach.
Lorraine, Sheila and Megan worked below deck with the passengers. They laid newspaper on the floor to capture their spills. Songs, stories, and a variety of handicrafts kept most of the children's minds off drowning. Band aides and wrapping were kept on hand for the any injury resulting from a floor that had a tendency to either drop away below you or throw you up into the ceiling.
By Thursday the crew with the weakest constitutions started showing signs of excessive exhaustion. They were found sleeping in the hallways, in the bunks, in the galley and anywhere they could find a spot of dry deck and little lighting. I tried to sleep in my cabin. Four to five hours was all the conditions would allow.
Friday morning the ship starting taking water. I noticed a strong list to port. Several crew, commanded by Midshipman Thomas manned the pumps. Megan was at the wheel. I was on lookout. Several of the passengers tied themselves to the benches in the ship’s galley. There were screams and cries for divine intervention every time the ship tilted to port. It seemed each crashing wave would be the one to capsize the ship sending it, along with all of us, to the bottom. The crew rose to the occasion, doing their best to calm the passengers even though thoughts of their own watery deaths wore heavily on their minds.
Saturday morning brought no relief. We knew we were close to shore but the raging storm hid everything from view except for the boiling gray sea with towering white caps. crashing over us. Near nine bells I heard a loud snap. I realized a mast was compromised. All eyes looked up.
“There it is,” came a shout from the lower deck. I saw a mast swinging in the wind. Midshipman Kevin was doing everything he could to regain control but lost it as the ship rose and then crashed downward with such force it sent most of us seat first onto the deck. The mast fell with sail unfurling. It hit with force.
“He’s Down!” came the shout from below. I rushed to the railing. The crew struggled with the heavy beam. I saw a pair of legs appear, then a torso and finally a face. Lt. Jon Parker lay on his back. His eyes stared straight upward as if in final prayer for his soul.
“Is he alive?” I shouted. Midshipman Alex was the first to his side. He felt for a pulse then put his ear to his mouth to listen for breath.
“He is,” Alex shouted back. “His skull appears to be fractured. There’s blood.”
“To the doctor,” I shouted as I moved down the stairs to the injured officer. I help him to his feet. He was speaking through a stream of rainwater and blood.
“I’m OK sir. I’m OK. Leave me be. There’s work to be done. Must save the ship.” His can do spirit was an inspiration to all that attended to him.
“I’ll hear none of it,” I replied. I moved him to my quarters. The doctor arrived. “Take care of him. He’s a good man.” I said leaving the room to attend to my duties on deck. Two hours later Lt. Jon Parker returned to duty. His forehead was wrapped. The wound required six stitches. He saluted, reached for the rigging and was climbing up to secure the sails before I could voice an objection. The Old Man of the Sea could not take a ship manned with officers like this.
At 4:00 P.M. the harbor was in view. The storm had moved from a full blown tempest to a whimper. The sea was calming. The gray ceiling that had accompanied us on our perilous journey was giving way to sunlight. The battle was won. Our week of hell was over and our destination met.
The passengers disembarked. Many walked down the ramps under their own power. Others needed assistance. A small cheer rose from the crew when the last one stepped onto land. Our responsibilities were finished. Rest was our reward.
_________________________________________________________ .
Hello Troops,
Yes, we finished our heck week. We started with a three day camp, then a one night overnighter and finally another three day camp. Setting aside the exaggerations in the story above it really went well - all thanks to our awesome staff and volunteers. Everyone knew their duty and did it. We survived and the campers all had good times.
I want to highlight a few things:
Now, in closing I need to comment on the Leadership Camp. I’m afraid I need to eat my words and then have a hefty helping of Humble Pie. I was doubtful a Leadership Camp for 14 -17 year olds would work. Megan and Taylor both came to me with the idea in March. I said no and I meant it.
They wouldn’t let stand. They kept at me - over and over, day in and day out until I listened to what they had to say. They explained the concept.
Again I wanted to say No but in the end they persuaded me to give it a yes.
They started preparations. I stayed out of it. I told them that if they really wanted to run a camp for the upper teen market they would do it on their own. I couldn’t get involved. I had far too many other things to deal with on my plate. They agreed.
I was so doubtful anyone would enroll in the camp I didn’t make a swimming reservation at PG Pool for the campers. A little fact I forgot until Friday morning. I told Megan we didn’t have a pool reservation. She gave me that look. It was the look someone gives you when you really let them down. I put it into gear and arranged for a school bus to pick up the campers that evening and take them to the Orem Rec. Center’s pool. Swimming was saved - giving Megan and her team enough time to set up the school for the most awesome ‘Landing Party’ we’ve seen in years!
Well, the camp started on Thursday and started full. The 35th spot was taken just as the camp started. I was wrong. They were right. Enough said on that.
Thank you everyone for a great week. Now don’t sit back on our laurels. We have three weeks of camps left before we wrap up the summer season so batten down the hatches and tie the campers to the masts. We leave port again on Monday and it promises to be a bumpy ride.
Mr. Williamson
Our Space Center Ship sailed into graying seas on Monday. We knew the crossing could be stormy. But having faith in the ship, and every confidence in each other, we knew there was no calamity that could deter us from reaching the opposite shore. We pressed forward into the gathering wind and darkening sky.
By Wednesday evening the ship was bucking beneath us. Keeping our footing was paramount, keeping our lunch was preferred but nearly impossible. Most if us were in full rain gear manning our stations on deck. And when not on duty, many of us stayed on deck near the railing emptying our stomachs down the side of the ship.
I stood on deck struggling to hold the wheel and steer a straight course. Our Directors took turns beside me calling out orders to the younger sailors. First to take in sail and other times to set sail. The wind was fierce causing our youngest to rope themselves to the masts to avoid being swept away as the tidal waves washed overhead.
Aleta struggled in the ship’s galley. Cooking in a moving kitchen was no easy task. Every pot, pan, knife and spoon had a mind of its own, and unless secured, found itself on the floor in a thoughtless dance moving wall to wall. She barked orders to her kitchen help (when someone could be spared), ordering them to hold this or pour that. Miracles were performed in that Galley. All meals were ready on time. They were delicious and nutritious, if the sea would let them stay in your stomach.
Lorraine, Sheila and Megan worked below deck with the passengers. They laid newspaper on the floor to capture their spills. Songs, stories, and a variety of handicrafts kept most of the children's minds off drowning. Band aides and wrapping were kept on hand for the any injury resulting from a floor that had a tendency to either drop away below you or throw you up into the ceiling.
By Thursday the crew with the weakest constitutions started showing signs of excessive exhaustion. They were found sleeping in the hallways, in the bunks, in the galley and anywhere they could find a spot of dry deck and little lighting. I tried to sleep in my cabin. Four to five hours was all the conditions would allow.
Friday morning the ship starting taking water. I noticed a strong list to port. Several crew, commanded by Midshipman Thomas manned the pumps. Megan was at the wheel. I was on lookout. Several of the passengers tied themselves to the benches in the ship’s galley. There were screams and cries for divine intervention every time the ship tilted to port. It seemed each crashing wave would be the one to capsize the ship sending it, along with all of us, to the bottom. The crew rose to the occasion, doing their best to calm the passengers even though thoughts of their own watery deaths wore heavily on their minds.
Saturday morning brought no relief. We knew we were close to shore but the raging storm hid everything from view except for the boiling gray sea with towering white caps. crashing over us. Near nine bells I heard a loud snap. I realized a mast was compromised. All eyes looked up.
“There it is,” came a shout from the lower deck. I saw a mast swinging in the wind. Midshipman Kevin was doing everything he could to regain control but lost it as the ship rose and then crashed downward with such force it sent most of us seat first onto the deck. The mast fell with sail unfurling. It hit with force.
“He’s Down!” came the shout from below. I rushed to the railing. The crew struggled with the heavy beam. I saw a pair of legs appear, then a torso and finally a face. Lt. Jon Parker lay on his back. His eyes stared straight upward as if in final prayer for his soul.
“Is he alive?” I shouted. Midshipman Alex was the first to his side. He felt for a pulse then put his ear to his mouth to listen for breath.
“He is,” Alex shouted back. “His skull appears to be fractured. There’s blood.”
“To the doctor,” I shouted as I moved down the stairs to the injured officer. I help him to his feet. He was speaking through a stream of rainwater and blood.
“I’m OK sir. I’m OK. Leave me be. There’s work to be done. Must save the ship.” His can do spirit was an inspiration to all that attended to him.
“I’ll hear none of it,” I replied. I moved him to my quarters. The doctor arrived. “Take care of him. He’s a good man.” I said leaving the room to attend to my duties on deck. Two hours later Lt. Jon Parker returned to duty. His forehead was wrapped. The wound required six stitches. He saluted, reached for the rigging and was climbing up to secure the sails before I could voice an objection. The Old Man of the Sea could not take a ship manned with officers like this.
At 4:00 P.M. the harbor was in view. The storm had moved from a full blown tempest to a whimper. The sea was calming. The gray ceiling that had accompanied us on our perilous journey was giving way to sunlight. The battle was won. Our week of hell was over and our destination met.
The passengers disembarked. Many walked down the ramps under their own power. Others needed assistance. A small cheer rose from the crew when the last one stepped onto land. Our responsibilities were finished. Rest was our reward.
_________________________________________________________ .
Hello Troops,
Yes, we finished our heck week. We started with a three day camp, then a one night overnighter and finally another three day camp. Setting aside the exaggerations in the story above it really went well - all thanks to our awesome staff and volunteers. Everyone knew their duty and did it. We survived and the campers all had good times.
I want to highlight a few things:
- Aleta did a fantastic job in the kitchen. The food was wonderful and always on time and cooked to perfection. Honestly, we can’t thank her enough. A camp operates on its stomach.
- The Flight Directors gave it their all and I’m grateful for that.
- Our Supervisors did an excellent job helping the Flight Directors by keeping the simulators in good condition and helping with the campers.
- Thanks to Lorraine, Sheila and Megan for their class session. The kids really enjoyed it. And an extra thank you to Lorraine for Chaperoning the first two camps.
- What can I say about our volunteers? They are the life blood of the Space Center. Without them we wouldn’t be able to do the things we do.
- I want everyone to know that Jon Parker gave his all to the Center on Saturday Morning. He took a opened door right in the forehead. Six stitches later he was back on the job doing what he does best - working with the campers. After the camp he volunteered to stay behind and clean the school for our Monday missions and camp. Jon is awesome.
Now, in closing I need to comment on the Leadership Camp. I’m afraid I need to eat my words and then have a hefty helping of Humble Pie. I was doubtful a Leadership Camp for 14 -17 year olds would work. Megan and Taylor both came to me with the idea in March. I said no and I meant it.
They wouldn’t let stand. They kept at me - over and over, day in and day out until I listened to what they had to say. They explained the concept.
Again I wanted to say No but in the end they persuaded me to give it a yes.
They started preparations. I stayed out of it. I told them that if they really wanted to run a camp for the upper teen market they would do it on their own. I couldn’t get involved. I had far too many other things to deal with on my plate. They agreed.
I was so doubtful anyone would enroll in the camp I didn’t make a swimming reservation at PG Pool for the campers. A little fact I forgot until Friday morning. I told Megan we didn’t have a pool reservation. She gave me that look. It was the look someone gives you when you really let them down. I put it into gear and arranged for a school bus to pick up the campers that evening and take them to the Orem Rec. Center’s pool. Swimming was saved - giving Megan and her team enough time to set up the school for the most awesome ‘Landing Party’ we’ve seen in years!
Well, the camp started on Thursday and started full. The 35th spot was taken just as the camp started. I was wrong. They were right. Enough said on that.
Thank you everyone for a great week. Now don’t sit back on our laurels. We have three weeks of camps left before we wrap up the summer season so batten down the hatches and tie the campers to the masts. We leave port again on Monday and it promises to be a bumpy ride.
Mr. Williamson
We Survived the Week from Heck! And Other Things.
We were exhausted and green with sea sickness when the harbor came into view. I stood on deck against the railing. It was a good place to park when tossing your cookies into the churning sea below.
Our Space Center Ship sailed into calm seas on Monday. We knew the crossing would be stormy, but having faith in the ship and every confidence in each other we knew there was no calamity that could deter us from reaching the opposite shore. We pressed forward into the gathering wind and darkening sky.
By Wednesday evening the ship was bucking beneath us. Keeping our footing was paramount, keeping our lunch was preferred but nearly impossible. Most if us were in full rain gear manning our stations on deck. And when not on duty many of us stayed on deck near the railing emptying our stomachs down the side of the ship.
I stood on deck struggling to hold the wheel and steer a straight course. Our Directors took turns beside me calling out orders to the younger sailors. First to take in sail and other times to set sail. The wind was fierce causing our youngest to rope themselves to the masts to avoid being swept away as the tidal waves washed overhead.
Aleta struggled in the ship’s galley. Cooking in a moving kitchen was no easy task. Every pot, pan, knife and spoon had a mind of its own, and unless secured, found itself on the floor in a thoughtless dance moving wall to wall. She barked orders to her kitchen help (when someone could be spared), ordering them to hold this or pour that. Miracles were performed in that Galley. All meals were ready on time. They were delicious and nutritious, if the sea would let them stay in your stomach.
By Thursday the crew with the weakest constitutions started showing signs of excessive exhaustion. They were found sleeping in the hallways, in the bunks, in the galley and anywhere they could find a spot of dry deck and little lighting. I tried to sleep in my cabin. Four to five hours was all the conditions would allow.
Friday morning the ship starting taking water. I noticed a strong list to port. Several crew, commanded by Midshipman Thomas manned the pumps. Megan was at the wheel. I was on lookout. Several of the passengers tied themselves to the benches in the ship’s galley. There were screams and cries for divine intervention every time the ship tilted to port. It seemed each crashing wave would be the one to capsize the ship sending it, along with all of us, to the bottom. The crew rose to the occasion, doing their best to calm the passengers even though thoughts of their own watery deaths wore heavily on their minds.
Saturday morning brought no relief. We knew we were close to shore but the raging storm hid everything from view except for the boiling gray sea with towering white caps. crashing over us. Near nine bells I heard a loud snap. I realized a mast was compromised. All eyes looked up.
“There it is,” came a shout from the lower deck. I saw a mast swinging in the wind. Midshipman Kevin was doing everything he could to regain control but lost it as the ship rose and then crashed downward with such force it sent most of us seat first onto the deck. The mast fell with sail unfurling. It hit with force.
“He’s Down!” came the shout from below. I rushed to the railing. The crew struggled with the heavy beam. I saw a pair of legs appear, then a torso and finally a face. Lt. Jon Parker lay on his back. His eyes stared straight upward as if in final prayer for his soul.
“Is he alive?” I shouted. Midshipman Alex was the first to his side. He felt for a pulse then put his ear to his mouth to listen for breath.
“He is,” Alex shouted back. “His skull appears to be fractured. There’s blood.”
“To the doctor,” I shouted as I moved down the stairs to the injured officer. I help him to his feet. He was speaking through a stream of rainwater and blood.
“I’m OK sir. I’m OK. Leave me be. There’s work to be done. Must save the ship.” His can do spirit was an inspiration to all that attended to him.
“I’ll hear none of it,” I replied. I moved him to my quarters. The doctor arrived. “Take care of him. He’s a good man.” I said leaving the room to attend to my duties on deck. Two hours later Lt. Jon Parker returned to duty. His forehead was wrapped. The wound required six stitches. He saluted, reached for the rigging and was climbing up to secure the sails before I could voice an objection. The Old Man of the Sea could not take a ship manned with officers like this.
At 4:00 P.M. the harbor was in view. The storm had moved from a full blown tempest to a whimper. The sea was calming. The gray ceiling that had accompanied us on our perilous journey was giving way to sunlight. The battle was won. Our week of hell was over and our destination met.
The passengers disembarked. Many walked down the ramps under their own power. Others needed assistance. A small cheer rose from the crew when the last one stepped onto land. Our responsibilities were finished. Rest was our reward.
_________________________________________________________ .
Hello Troops,
Yes, we finished our heck week. We started with a three day camp, then a one night overnighter and finally another three day camp. Setting aside the exaggerations in the story above it really went well - all thanks to our awesome staff and volunteers. Everyone knew their duty and did it. We survived and the campers all had good times.
I want to highlight a few things:
Now, in closing I need to comment on the Leadership Camp. I’m afraid I need to eat my words and then have a hefty helping of Humble Pie. I was doubtful a Leadership Camp for 14 -17 year olds would work. Megan and Taylor both came to me with the idea in March. I said no and I meant it.
They wouldn’t let stand. They kept at me - over and over, day in and day out until I listened to what they had to say. They explained the concept.
Again I wanted to say No but in the end they persuaded me to give it a yes.
They started preparations. I stayed out of it. I told them that if they really wanted to run a camp for the upper teen market they would do it on their own. I couldn’t get involved. I had far too many other things to deal with on my plate. They agreed.
I was so doubtful anyone would enroll in the camp I didn’t make a swimming reservation at PG Pool for the campers. A little fact I forgot until Friday morning. I told Megan we didn’t have a pool reservation. She gave me that look. It was the look someone gives you when you really let them down. I put it into gear and arranged for a school bus to pick up the campers that evening and take them to the Orem Rec. Center’s pool. Swimming was saved - giving Megan and her team enough time to set up the school for the most awesome ‘Landing Party’ we’ve seen in years!
Well, the camp started on Thursday and started full. The 35th spot was taken just as the camp started. I was wrong. They were right. Enough said on that.
Thank you everyone for a great week. Now don’t sit back on our laurels. We have three weeks of camps left before we wrap up the summer season so batten down the hatches and tie the campers to the masts. We leave port again on Monday and it promises to be a bumpy ride.
Mr. Williamson
Our Space Center Ship sailed into calm seas on Monday. We knew the crossing would be stormy, but having faith in the ship and every confidence in each other we knew there was no calamity that could deter us from reaching the opposite shore. We pressed forward into the gathering wind and darkening sky.
By Wednesday evening the ship was bucking beneath us. Keeping our footing was paramount, keeping our lunch was preferred but nearly impossible. Most if us were in full rain gear manning our stations on deck. And when not on duty many of us stayed on deck near the railing emptying our stomachs down the side of the ship.
I stood on deck struggling to hold the wheel and steer a straight course. Our Directors took turns beside me calling out orders to the younger sailors. First to take in sail and other times to set sail. The wind was fierce causing our youngest to rope themselves to the masts to avoid being swept away as the tidal waves washed overhead.
Aleta struggled in the ship’s galley. Cooking in a moving kitchen was no easy task. Every pot, pan, knife and spoon had a mind of its own, and unless secured, found itself on the floor in a thoughtless dance moving wall to wall. She barked orders to her kitchen help (when someone could be spared), ordering them to hold this or pour that. Miracles were performed in that Galley. All meals were ready on time. They were delicious and nutritious, if the sea would let them stay in your stomach.
By Thursday the crew with the weakest constitutions started showing signs of excessive exhaustion. They were found sleeping in the hallways, in the bunks, in the galley and anywhere they could find a spot of dry deck and little lighting. I tried to sleep in my cabin. Four to five hours was all the conditions would allow.
Friday morning the ship starting taking water. I noticed a strong list to port. Several crew, commanded by Midshipman Thomas manned the pumps. Megan was at the wheel. I was on lookout. Several of the passengers tied themselves to the benches in the ship’s galley. There were screams and cries for divine intervention every time the ship tilted to port. It seemed each crashing wave would be the one to capsize the ship sending it, along with all of us, to the bottom. The crew rose to the occasion, doing their best to calm the passengers even though thoughts of their own watery deaths wore heavily on their minds.
Saturday morning brought no relief. We knew we were close to shore but the raging storm hid everything from view except for the boiling gray sea with towering white caps. crashing over us. Near nine bells I heard a loud snap. I realized a mast was compromised. All eyes looked up.
“There it is,” came a shout from the lower deck. I saw a mast swinging in the wind. Midshipman Kevin was doing everything he could to regain control but lost it as the ship rose and then crashed downward with such force it sent most of us seat first onto the deck. The mast fell with sail unfurling. It hit with force.
“He’s Down!” came the shout from below. I rushed to the railing. The crew struggled with the heavy beam. I saw a pair of legs appear, then a torso and finally a face. Lt. Jon Parker lay on his back. His eyes stared straight upward as if in final prayer for his soul.
“Is he alive?” I shouted. Midshipman Alex was the first to his side. He felt for a pulse then put his ear to his mouth to listen for breath.
“He is,” Alex shouted back. “His skull appears to be fractured. There’s blood.”
“To the doctor,” I shouted as I moved down the stairs to the injured officer. I help him to his feet. He was speaking through a stream of rainwater and blood.
“I’m OK sir. I’m OK. Leave me be. There’s work to be done. Must save the ship.” His can do spirit was an inspiration to all that attended to him.
“I’ll hear none of it,” I replied. I moved him to my quarters. The doctor arrived. “Take care of him. He’s a good man.” I said leaving the room to attend to my duties on deck. Two hours later Lt. Jon Parker returned to duty. His forehead was wrapped. The wound required six stitches. He saluted, reached for the rigging and was climbing up to secure the sails before I could voice an objection. The Old Man of the Sea could not take a ship manned with officers like this.
At 4:00 P.M. the harbor was in view. The storm had moved from a full blown tempest to a whimper. The sea was calming. The gray ceiling that had accompanied us on our perilous journey was giving way to sunlight. The battle was won. Our week of hell was over and our destination met.
The passengers disembarked. Many walked down the ramps under their own power. Others needed assistance. A small cheer rose from the crew when the last one stepped onto land. Our responsibilities were finished. Rest was our reward.
_________________________________________________________ .
Hello Troops,
Yes, we finished our heck week. We started with a three day camp, then a one night overnighter and finally another three day camp. Setting aside the exaggerations in the story above it really went well - all thanks to our awesome staff and volunteers. Everyone knew their duty and did it. We survived and the campers all had good times.
I want to highlight a few things:
- Aleta did a fantastic job in the kitchen. The food was wonderful and always on time and cooked to perfection. Honestly, we can’t thank her enough. A camp operates on its stomach.
- The Flight Directors gave it their all and I’m grateful for that.
- Our Supervisors did an excellent job helping the Flight Directors by keeping the simulators in good condition and helping with the campers.
- Thanks to Lorraine and Sheila for their class session. The kids really enjoyed it. And an extra thank you to Lorraine for Chaperoning the first two camps.
- What can I say about our volunteers? They are the life blood of the Space Center. Without them we wouldn’t be able to do the things we do.
- I want everyone to know that Jon Parker gave his all to the Center on Saturday Morning. He took a opened door right in the forehead. Six stitches later he was back on the job doing what he does best - working with the campers. After the camp he volunteered to stay behind and clean the school for our Monday missions and camp. Jon is awesome.
Now, in closing I need to comment on the Leadership Camp. I’m afraid I need to eat my words and then have a hefty helping of Humble Pie. I was doubtful a Leadership Camp for 14 -17 year olds would work. Megan and Taylor both came to me with the idea in March. I said no and I meant it.
They wouldn’t let stand. They kept at me - over and over, day in and day out until I listened to what they had to say. They explained the concept.
Again I wanted to say No but in the end they persuaded me to give it a yes.
They started preparations. I stayed out of it. I told them that if they really wanted to run a camp for the upper teen market they would do it on their own. I couldn’t get involved. I had far too many other things to deal with on my plate. They agreed.
I was so doubtful anyone would enroll in the camp I didn’t make a swimming reservation at PG Pool for the campers. A little fact I forgot until Friday morning. I told Megan we didn’t have a pool reservation. She gave me that look. It was the look someone gives you when you really let them down. I put it into gear and arranged for a school bus to pick up the campers that evening and take them to the Orem Rec. Center’s pool. Swimming was saved - giving Megan and her team enough time to set up the school for the most awesome ‘Landing Party’ we’ve seen in years!
Well, the camp started on Thursday and started full. The 35th spot was taken just as the camp started. I was wrong. They were right. Enough said on that.
Thank you everyone for a great week. Now don’t sit back on our laurels. We have three weeks of camps left before we wrap up the summer season so batten down the hatches and tie the campers to the masts. We leave port again on Monday and it promises to be a bumpy ride.
Mr. Williamson
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