One of the stops on our road trip was Space Camp in Huntsville, Alabama. The last time we visited was when Elizabeth was in fifth grade. That was in 1988.
Space Camp was founded six years prior in 1982 at the U.S. Space & Rocket Center in Huntsville. It was created by museum director Edward O. Buckbee and rocket pioneer Wernher von Braun to give young people a taste of real astronaut training.
The key components of attending Space Camp center on hands‑on astronaut‑style training and teamwork. Campers live on‑site in habitat dorms and spend their days running simulated space missions where they take roles such as commander, pilot, or mission‑control specialist. They train on real astronaut‑inspired hardware designed to mimic the physical challenges of spaceflight. Programs also include model‑rocket building, engineering challenges, robotics, flight simulators, and structured team‑building activities. Pretty challenging for a ten-year-old.
We stopped in to reminisce a bit. In eighty-eight David was in the seventh grade and a group of middle school parents promoted going to Space Camp. David was one of several students to express an interest so Ruth and I did what we could to support the excursion. The parents and students pitched in to raise money to offset the cost. Each student earned a share, and I can’t think of any parents who didn’t help.
I remember one weekend in particular when David and Ruth helped make a zillion apple pies at Sara Baker’s house. The Baker’s lived on US 127, one of the main roads leading into Addison, so it was a natural meeting place.
Another project was making Christmas wreaths. The kids worked on them at Amy Partin’s house, gathering there after school. We collected pine boughs from trees around town, and I cut plenty of branches from the pine trees at our house at the lake. All of the raw materials were donated so it was one-hundred percent profit. I don’t recall if parents ended up paying anything at all. We may have. I just don’t remember.
When push came to shove, David decided he didn’t want to go. A second boy, Billy, took a pass too. We’d already paid for the two spots, so ten-year-old Elizabeth took David’s, and Amy Partin’s sister, Mandy, took the other. A group of seventh graders, and two fifth graders, made the trip.
I’m not sure how many days they were away, but I do know that the Partin’s grandparents took Elizabeth in the family’s RV. We heard from her shortly after she arrived, letting us know they got there on time and that the camp was overbooked. As a result, the two fifth graders, BZ and Mandy, were assigned to a room at the Marriott Hotel instead of staying in the standard dormitory housing with the other kids.
The Marriott was adjacent to the camp and home to several camp counselors. The plan called for the girls to be in their room at a set time, and once inside, the counselors sealed the door with masking tape. They were told to stay put unless they needed help, in which case they should go straight to a counselor. If they left on their own, the broken tape would give them away.
Looking back, it amazes me that a place where students were learning how to travel into space relied on a roll of masking tape to keep them safe on Earth.
When I drove down to pick up Elizabeth after camp concluded, I took my mom with me. We spent the night before Space Camp’s graduation in Smiths Grove. Grandpa Barner lived there with his second wife, Virginia, so Mom had a chance to spend the day with her dad while I drove to Huntsville to pick up Elizabeth and another camper.
The trip I took thirty-eight years ago, and the one I took last week, were a reunion of sorts for a daughter and her dad. On the first trip, Mom spent the day with her father. On this trip, Elizabeth was spending the day with me. I never really thought about that until just now.
In any case, BZ and I took a walk around the museum and visited the planetarium because the camp itself was closed. We watched a program about black holes, but as much as I wanted to stay interested, I nodded off and missed a lot of it. What I think could be improved are the museum exhibits themselves. There are plenty of fascinating artifacts and tons of information to read, but in today’s world, there really should have been a recorded tour. Visitors could wear earpieces or headphones and enjoy a guided walk through the facility. In this high-tech era, the Space and Rocket Center relied heavily on low-tech. It reminded me of the masking tape security system.
I’m glad we took the time to stop, though like most trips down memory lane, some pieces were missing. Together, we reminisced as best we could. I’m happy we went, but I don’t feel the need to go back to camp again.
TBC
P.S. It’s been four years. I haven’t forgotten. You know what mean.
P.S.S. If you know – you know.