Contact Victor Williamson with your questions about simulator based experiential education programs for your school.
SpaceCampUtah@gmail.com

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Your Part in the Future. An Update from a Space Center Soldier. And Something to Ponder



Hello Troops,
I imagine the woman in the painting is your great great granddaughter, holding your first great, great, great, great grandson.  They are entering orbit of the first  habitable Earth like planet mankind discovered in 2015.

Your descendants are among the first to colonize this new world.  They say their pioneering spirit comes from you.  You were the one who dreamt of far distant places.  You are the one who kept a journal of your fantasy trips into deep space on a ship called Voyager at a school in northern Utah.

"One day what we did at the Space Center will be real.  People will travel into space and live on other planets," you wrote long ago in a journal your family will treasure. 

Your trip to the Space Center got you interested in space.  You read about space.  You loved the sci-fi television shows and movies.  You spent many an hour looking up at the stars wondering who and what was out there;  and if there was intelligent life on a distant planet, did they know we existed on this tiny blue marble in space?  And even though you never became an astronaut or engineer or astronomer, you supported your country's space programs and always voted for people who believed like you, that our place was out with the stars.

Your love of space was passed on to your children.  One of your sons became an engineer.  He helped develop the ion drive engine for the country's first deep space probe.  One of your granddaughters worked for the Mars Terraforming Administration.  She helped develop a new strain of grain developed to thrive in Martian soil.  One of your great grandsons spent several months living on the permanent Moon colony.  One of your great great granddaughters pioneered a new branch of exomedicine.  Her work opened the door for her family to take part in the colonization of New Earth.

Who knows what distant shores your descendants will walk.  Who knows what stars they will see in their night sky; and all of this, because of your love for space and space exploration.

The future is bright.  What part will you play in its writing?

Mr. W.

 

An Email from a Former Volunteer Now Serving in Afghanistan

Brooklyn Welch sent this email Christmas greeting to all.  Brooklyn was a long time Space Center volunteer.  She joined the army after high school and is deployed in Afghanistan working as an army field medic.
Friends and Family,
As we get closer and closer to Christmas, I cant help but be amazed at how fortunate we are in America. I look around and see kids running barefoot in the snow, and parents struggling to get by. And even though these Afghans have almost nothing, they're still happy. It kinda makes me wonder where we lost it in America. I would like to ask everyone back home to try to involve service in your days as you prepare for Christmas.

I've also had a chance to see God's hand in our lives, keeping us safe. About a month ago, one of the vehicles in my convoy lost control and rolled 2 and a half times. As I ran over to the vehicle to check for casualties, I was amazed to find that two out of the four passengers were already outside pulling security. Both of these soldiers were completely uninjured. I climbed in the gunners hatch to find the third passenger collecting his gear, also uninjured. I then saw the last passenger climbing out the back. He had the only injury, a cut on one finger. I should probably note that this isn't just a normal vehicle. It weighs almost 40,000 lbs. In addition to that weight, it was also full of gear in the back. The gunner ( the one with the cut), was incredibly lucky to only have the one minor injury, since he was basically unrestrained during the rollover. There were so many things that could have gone wrong- The gunner could have forgotten to drop into the vehicle ( the turret was entirely destroyed), they all could have decided not to wear their seat belts, they could have forgotten to tie down they gear. But today, they didn't. It was a miracle that every single passenger was able to walk away from what could have been a devastating accident.

As I pass the halfway point of this deployment, the days have started to run together. So I've decided to try to find at least one good thing each day. I tried to include an awesome pic of a picture of the leaves turning nearby one of the cobs I was stationed at, but unfortunately the internet isn't fast enough to upload a picture.I guess I'll have to show you guys when I get home. It's unreal how much this place looks just like Utah.
I hope all of you have a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

And Now, something to ponder.

Programmer sent the following email:

The Math of Life After Death


This is how you get the universe from nothingness. Nothingness is the property of not being. If there were a never ending amount of things to not be, nothing would not be able to not be them all. This is because never ending never ends. So the universe would be nothing getting around to not doing a never ending amount of things. It would get around to not doing them one at a time.

Each frame of time in the universe (another configuration of it) slips off into the past and becomes nothing. This would mean that there is a never ending amount of time in the universe. The future would go on forever. Now think of an example of nothing getting around to not doing a thing: where events slip off into nothingness. Look close enough and you will see that perception does this. Our perception is like a hole that experiences go into. The past frames of time don't stack up on the present frame of time. The past frames of time have become nothingness. Being that our perception is more like a hole than a material, might it be that we live after we die?

Thanks programmer.  I'm not sure I get it but I want you to know that I read it several times in an attempt comprehend its meaning.  It's a bit of a mind / logic puzzle, good for a ponder on a cold dark winter's night.


              

Monday, December 17, 2012

A Message from Mrs. Houston and an Update on the Simulator Program in Pennsylvania

Hello Troops,

We start the week with a windy Monday. 

Did I mention how much I enjoy my nice warm trailer?  The only sounds I hear are the trailer's heater, my keyboard and the wind as it blows in another winter storm. A trailer classroom is a blessing for a more independent minded teacher.


First, a short email to the staff and volunteers from Mrs. Houston.
Dear Staff,    
My heart is breaking for all in this community, the loss of innocent children,  dedicated teachers and a principal.  These are the kind of wonderful people I work with every day.  I try not to think of the fear these little ones may have felt, and pray it was brief.  I prefer to ponder upon the knowledge that the Savior was there and received  them into his open arms where they felt completely safe and loved.We are left with the horror of this senseless act as we try to understand how a young man who was not much more than a child himself could do this.  The key is found in replacing our fears and ignorance with knowledge.  Victor is right, look around you and see who needs a kind word, encouragement, or a friend.  Notice the unnoticed, make a difference.  We have bullies on our playground as young as six years old,  we need to take action to help especially them before things get out of control.  We all need to feel accepted and needed, and I know that our staff at the Center are the best examples of this in the district.  Thank you staff for being wonderful in every way,  you are simply the best!
With lots of love for every one of you!
Lorraine
Secondly, a few pictures from a test run mission in a classroom of the school where a new simulator is under construction in Pennsylvania.  Gary Gardiner,The director of the Pennsylvania, program wrote:
 Today I had the honor of running two live demo missions at the Shaler Elementary.  The first featured Mike Penn's GATE students, and the second featured a joint crew of GATE and Special Ed students.  We had about 35 kids in all, and both crews did a fantastic job.  The enthusiasm was so thick in the air that we had to use snorkels to breathe.  If the kids are this excited to run a 30-minute demo mission in their normal classroom, I can't wait to see their faces when they enter the real simulator when it's fully decked in all its glory of light, sound, and effects!
Here are some icky blurry photos of the kids in action.  My apologies for the low-quality photos.  Next time I'll bring Vera, my shiny new Nikon D5100.
Throughout the day we were pleased to be visited by Dr. Shipley, the SASD's superintendent, as well as a whole slew of enthusiastic teachers from throughout the school who wanted to see what all the mystery and buzz has been about.  The time simply flew by (just ask the kids!), but there will be plenty of other demonstrations down the road for those who missed it.  It was magical, to say the least.
                  

Sunday, December 16, 2012

The Staff Came a'Caroling.

The staff and volunteers snapped this photo
of me just as I opened the door and realized I was
about to be savaged by a gaggle of carolers

Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
My checkbook sat by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas would bring money this year;

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the door I flew like a flash,
Peaked out the window and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my horrified eyes did appear,
But a gaggle of staff and a few tiny volundeers

With a gasp and a prayer I had to be quick,
They knew I was home,  I was going to be sick.
More rapid than eagles I opened my door
Saw them, heard them, and shut it as before.

"Now, Mr. Williamson, don't be a Vixen!
Open that door, for we are fixin
To sing and sing you a Christmas Cheer
that will warm your heart and release a tear.

I begged them to stop.  I clutched at my head
They sang on and on which caused such a dread.
I knew my neighbors would take such a fright.
their singing would go on and on and on all night.
 
Two songs in and some time for talk
I convinced them to leave for I was in shock.
 My bah humbug mood was severely battered
And my life forever and ever shattered;
By those lovely carols, so destroyed;
left my heart,  a sterile void.

Yes, my home was caroled last night around 9:00 P.M.  It took me nearly thirty minutes to clean up the holiday cheer they left oozing around my front steps and door.  I shut the door the minute I realized I was in their line of sight.  They forced it back open.
 
Their strained version of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" was accompanied by the howling of the neighbor's dog.  I thanked them for braving the cold to come visit their old boss and wished them well.  It wasn't enough.  They still wanted to sing.

Silent Night was their next attempt.  I couldn't recognize the key, and knew it was Silent Night only because of the lyrics.  I had to do something fast before the police arrived to investigate the disturbance.  I started signing a different carol. I don't remember what it was. I was in a state of shock that they had gotten ME to sing. 

They finally left me to my peace and returned to the work house.  I shut the door making a mental note to contact the work house warden and speak to him about his security.  Then something strange happened.  For a moment's moment, I think I felt what I can only describe as gratitude for their willingness to drive to Pleasant Grove to sing to their old boss.
 
I believe my stone cold heart pushed a bit of blood through my rarely used circulatory system.  I felt this warm rush overcome me.  Luckily the feeling passed nearly as quickly  as it had arrived. I returned to my small coal fire and bowl of lukewarm potato soup.  The light of the lone candle I allow myself on a cold winter's night,  flickered against the walls of my musty living room.

"Humbug," I muttered as I searched for bit of underdone potato in the murky liquid.

The stub of a candle flickered at the same moment a sound penetrated through the front door.  It was the sound of a chain being dragged against the concrete.  I stopped in mid stir - wondering if the staff, drunk with holiday cheer, had returned to stab me in the heart with a wreath of holly. 

For a moment I thought I heard my name whispered, or was it the wind outside?