Hello Troops,
Tonight we put the last of our school year campers to bed. The School Year Camp Season started on October 7, 2011 with Lindon Elementary School. The School Year Camp Season ends tonight with Orem Elementary School's 6th Grade. The summer season starts tomorrow with the first of our summer private missions at 11:00 A.M. The first overnight camp for the season will be June 5th. Our last summer season camp will be the overnight camp of September 28.
It has been a good school year season. We've weathered the recession and survived everything Fortuna threw our way (and I write that with humility, not wanting to upset the Olympians and tempt Fate). Our success was earned on the backs of our fantastic staff and volunteers, all good people who make my job easier and give me the occasional shoulder to lean on. Thank you.
We start this new season not knowing what lies ahead. Will the seas be calm and the winds reliable? Will our campers be considerate and follow the rules? Will the volunteers be willing and able to help us staff our missions? Will our sanity have the mental reserves to remain firm even in the strongest tempest? The answers are out there in that labyrinth called 'the future'. There is one thing you can count on. No matter what cometh our way, be it friend or foe, light or dark, or good or bad, this blog will report it all, truthfully (except when I believe a bit of imagination added to the telling will enhance the point I'm trying to make).
The bell rang today at 10:30 A.M. dismissing our students for the summer. Just before the bell rang the sound of Central's third grade students counting down the seconds to freedom echoed up and down the Space Center's hallway; 3, 2, 1, The Bell rang followed by a hugh cheer. Five hundred students came pouring out of their classrooms like prisoners just paroled. It was like the running of the bulls. It is a sight to behold!
It's strange, this being a Thursday night and I'm here at my computer at 12:06 A.M. My mind is trying to convince me its Friday. All day tomorrow I'll think its Saturday. We will all be a bit befuddled until we get our summer legs beneath us.
The one major project accomplished today was the changing of the Galileo's air conditioners. Thank you to Kyle Herring (The Great Fish) for his help along with our maintenance director, Kyle Jones. Their is one remaining issue to be resolved. The Magellan's sound system is being fussy. Maggie's subwoofer has forgotten its contribution to the overall quality of the Magellan's sound. Zac and Megan used every incantation to correct the problem, but to no avail. Once again we will rely on the generosity of the Great Fish to get us out of this pickle.
Now it's time to go to bed. The camper are down. The staff are quiet and sleep is all that remains on my "to do" list.
Goodnight,
Mr W.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
The Voyager's New Summer Story, And Other Things.
Todd Wilps was on a Memorial Day trip to the beach when he got the news
that he was too late to sign up for a Space Center Summer Camp.
Don't Let This Be You!
Register Today
Hello Troops,
While many enjoy a three day weekend, the Space Center staff and volunteers will have two days off. These rare occasions give us a chance to recharge, rebuild, reenergize and prepare ourselves for the two busiest months of the year - June and July.
June and July are summer camps months. Each week you'll find us hosting a three day camp, an overnight camp and a few dozen or so private missions. It is the time of year when the Space Center makes much of its budget for the upcoming year. If you haven't registered for a summer camp I urge you to do so quickly. They are filing quickly. Soon, you may find yourself like the boy above, shocked to his very core at the discovery that there is no place for him at the Space Center this summer. He'd waited too long to register. Now, he faces a bleak summer without an infusion of pure, unadulterated imagination and creativity. Rare, natural brain enhancing drugs dispensed at very few places - the Space Center being one of them.
Our simulators are preparing their new summer missions. The Phoenix's mission has been told several times. Each telling was received warmly by the crews who flew them. The Odyssey's mission is ready. The Galileo's had its first telling last week. The crew responded favorably. The Magellan's new summer story is waiting on its tactical screens and visual track. The Voyager's new summer story will be told for the first time this weekend.
The Voyager's New Mission
The great space faring nations are struggling to rebuild after the long night of terror unleashed on them by the Borg. The Federation, Romulan, Klingon and Cardassian nations are mere shadows of their former selves. Their home worlds devastated, their fleets all but demolished and their citizens scattered to the four corners of this galactic quadrant. Each nation struggles to regain what it once had. Each nation rebuilds, sending their tattered fleets back to the stars to reclaim the worlds which once flew their flags and proclaimed their greatness.
In the midst of this devastation, the Paklids remain - untouched by the Borg. Their home world left as it was before, their identity and national purpose unmarred. The Borg Cubes flew by the Paklids on their way to Earth, Kronos, Romulas and Cardassian Prime. The Borg scanned Paklidia and found the Paklid people undeserving of assimilation into the collective. They believed the Paklids had nothing to offer. To some extent, the Borg were correct. The Paklids appear to be a very simple people, yet buried deep in what most think to be simpleness, lies the strength, culture and national purpose that has kept the Paklids an independent people for thousands of years.
In their hurry to subdue the great nations, the Borg overlooked something else about Paklidia. The Paklid home world is rich in dilithium ore. Dilithium is the controlling agent which allows massive warp drive engines to harness the power of antimatter and channel it is such that a doorway can be opened into the realm of hyperspace. Hyperspace allows warp travel and warp travel opens the galaxy to exploration and colonization.
The Voyager's new summer story introduces us to Horace, the crown prince of Paklidia and his bodyguard Dweeb. Horace and Dweeb are on Earth with the Paklid Minister of Commerce. Starfleet Command is wanting to sign a multiyear contract with Paklidia. This contract will, once again, give Earth access to Paklid dilithium crystals. Horace and Dweeb used their time on Earth to tour, meet humans, and study the finest Federation technology offered to the Paklids in exchange for their dilithium.
Now it is time for Horace and Dweeb to return to Paklidia. The Paklid government has arranged for an escort ship to accompany the Royal Starbug (Starbug - the name given to Paklid starships) back to Paklidia. The USS Voyager has been given that task. The journey to Paklids is fraught with danger. Remember, the Federation has lost control of much of its territory. There are whole sections of space once held by the Federation that are now in the control of lawless gangs of space pirates and mercenaries.
The Orion Pirates, led by the infamous Mad Dog, control the several light years of space separating the last functioning Federation Starbase and Paklid space. Ths area, called 'The West', is named after the American Wild West of the 1800's. The Voyager will rendezvous with the Royal Spacebug at Starbase 101. Prince Horace has expressed an interest in touring the Voyager and meeting her crew.
Horace is an avid admirer of Space ships. His favorite is the Romulan Warbird. "A fine ship," Horace says. Horace's love for the Romulan Warbird led him into an admiration of the Romulan people and their former Empire. His admiration has made Horace a vocal supporter of the Romulans. He has urged his father to give the Romulan Empire the dilitium contract instead of the Federation. Horace's father, not taken in by the clever design of the Warbird and false Romulan promises of eternal peace and friendship, refused his son's request. He knows Romulan history and their preoccupation of colonizing worlds with resources they deem of strategic value to their Empire. Over Horace's objections, the King sent his Commerce Minister to sign the trade agreement with the Federation. To placate his son, the Paklid King agreed to sell limited amounts of crystals to the Romulans. The Romulans are not happy they lost the contract, but are powerless to force a Paklid change of mind. The Paklids are the current power in the galaxy, having been ignored by the Borg. Of course, with the death of the Paklid King, Horace will take the throne. A scenario the Romulans hope will come sooner, rather than later.
How Do Astronomer's Know the Distances to Far Away Objects in Space?
This post ends with a short video explaining how astronomers tell the distances to far away stars and galaxies. Please take a minute and learn something about astronomy. I promise you'll find it fascinating.
Mr. W.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Midnight Thoughts at the Space Center
Hello Troops,
I'm sitting here befuddled. Before me is a blank white screen waiting for words to form in my tired brain and find their way down my arms, through my fingers and onto this electronic void. What could I possibly write at 11:56 P.M. on a Friday night that you would find interesting?
I feel a few thoughts taking shape but nothing is congealing. They are just vague ideas popping back and forth between the rational and irrational parts of my consciousness like electrons transitioning between dimensions of space time.
Wait, something is taking shape......I'm thinking of the awesome campers we're hosting from Ridgeline Elementary. Great kids with positive attitudes and intelligence beyond their years......
... and there the thought goes - disappearing into the Aether like a vapor from a boiling pot.
I'm seeing something else through the fog of a midnight's delirium. It's a young volunteer stretched out on one of our ancient cots procured from the War Department after the Spanish American War (well, not really but you'd think so if you ever tried to find a comfortable sleeping position on one of them). He's giving me a thumbs up. Yes, perhaps I could write about the new job I've created for our young Connor J. He is our newly appointed Chief of Cot Quality and Comfort (CCQC). The CCQC was created in a response to years of complaints from our campers regarding the Overnight Camp's sleeping cots. Connor tolerably completed his assignment this evening. He stretched out on each of our older cots, rolled about a bit to simulate a night's unconscious motion, and sat up, putting all his weight on the center of the cot where the unforgiving support bar is found.
"These cots pass," he said with a pride only found in someone who knows he has put in a days work for a day's pay. "The campers should have no problem with them. They aren't comfortable in the classical sense of the word but not so uncomfortable a camper couldn't find at least a few hours sleep."
I told him his job rested entirely on the comments made by the campers on the post camp survey. If the cots aren't mentioned at all, then he keeps his title and position. If there are complaints, then its back to where I found him in the Center's boiler room shoveling coal into the massive boilers which provide the power to drive our ship's powerful Warp Drive Engines. Connor gulped down a powerful urge to sob uncontrollably while nervously rubbing his calloused hands together.
I could write about Connor and the cots, but the thought is disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Besides, I doubt anyone out there would find our troubles with cots an interesting read when compared with the problems Greece is having with the Euro.
Wait, there is something else in the mist. And its gone before I could make out a shape.
I think I'll put up the white flag and call this post a complete failure. I'm relieved to a certain extent. I can stop typing. I can turn off the light and try to get some sleep on the pad in front of my desk. I'll tell the staff to stop talking in the Odyssey before going to bed . I'll also have to ignore the sleeping dock's creaking in the Voyager's Captain's Quarter's . Every time the boys turn or move, the boards in the sleeping dock squeak. I'll talk to our builder about fixing that when he comes in next.
It's 12:23 A.M. Time for bed.
Goodnight from the Space Center.
Mr. W.
I'm sitting here befuddled. Before me is a blank white screen waiting for words to form in my tired brain and find their way down my arms, through my fingers and onto this electronic void. What could I possibly write at 11:56 P.M. on a Friday night that you would find interesting?
I feel a few thoughts taking shape but nothing is congealing. They are just vague ideas popping back and forth between the rational and irrational parts of my consciousness like electrons transitioning between dimensions of space time.
Wait, something is taking shape......I'm thinking of the awesome campers we're hosting from Ridgeline Elementary. Great kids with positive attitudes and intelligence beyond their years......
... and there the thought goes - disappearing into the Aether like a vapor from a boiling pot.
I'm seeing something else through the fog of a midnight's delirium. It's a young volunteer stretched out on one of our ancient cots procured from the War Department after the Spanish American War (well, not really but you'd think so if you ever tried to find a comfortable sleeping position on one of them). He's giving me a thumbs up. Yes, perhaps I could write about the new job I've created for our young Connor J. He is our newly appointed Chief of Cot Quality and Comfort (CCQC). The CCQC was created in a response to years of complaints from our campers regarding the Overnight Camp's sleeping cots. Connor tolerably completed his assignment this evening. He stretched out on each of our older cots, rolled about a bit to simulate a night's unconscious motion, and sat up, putting all his weight on the center of the cot where the unforgiving support bar is found.
"These cots pass," he said with a pride only found in someone who knows he has put in a days work for a day's pay. "The campers should have no problem with them. They aren't comfortable in the classical sense of the word but not so uncomfortable a camper couldn't find at least a few hours sleep."
I told him his job rested entirely on the comments made by the campers on the post camp survey. If the cots aren't mentioned at all, then he keeps his title and position. If there are complaints, then its back to where I found him in the Center's boiler room shoveling coal into the massive boilers which provide the power to drive our ship's powerful Warp Drive Engines. Connor gulped down a powerful urge to sob uncontrollably while nervously rubbing his calloused hands together.
I could write about Connor and the cots, but the thought is disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Besides, I doubt anyone out there would find our troubles with cots an interesting read when compared with the problems Greece is having with the Euro.
Wait, there is something else in the mist. And its gone before I could make out a shape.
I think I'll put up the white flag and call this post a complete failure. I'm relieved to a certain extent. I can stop typing. I can turn off the light and try to get some sleep on the pad in front of my desk. I'll tell the staff to stop talking in the Odyssey before going to bed . I'll also have to ignore the sleeping dock's creaking in the Voyager's Captain's Quarter's . Every time the boys turn or move, the boards in the sleeping dock squeak. I'll talk to our builder about fixing that when he comes in next.
It's 12:23 A.M. Time for bed.
Goodnight from the Space Center.
Mr. W.
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