Dear Staff and Volunteers,
For many of our staff and volunteers, this season marks the end of another school year. Whether you are finishing secondary school, trade school, or university studies, you have reached the close of a long and demanding journey. It has been quite a trek.
Over the past year, we have flown countless missions together. We taught classes and workshops, guided crews through starship adventures, welcomed guests from all walks of life, and even enjoyed a few spirited bingo games at our monthly meetings. Now, as the school year comes to an end, we can look back with pride and satisfaction on all we have accomplished together.
I am honored to work alongside some of the finest people in Utah County. Each of you brings your own unique personality, creativity, and perspective to the Space Center. In doing so, you enrich not only the Center itself, but also the lives of every child and family who walks through our doors. Your dedication and willingness to give just a little more than expected are what transform good experiences into unforgettable ones.
We are unusual troubadours.
We perform without recognition. We create wonder without applause. Through our voices, our stories, and our imagination, we guide our guests on voyages through the cosmos—helping them discover not only the universe around them but also something within themselves.
Most of the time, we remain unseen. We sit quietly behind the walls of our starships and planetarium, guiding the experience from the shadows. We know that if attention turned toward us, some part of the magic would be lost. So instead, we surround our passengers with sound, light, music, and story, allowing them to become the heroes of the adventure.
Mr. Porter and the Space Center management team want you to know that your work matters. We see your efforts. We appreciate your sacrifices. And we applaud your talent.
Someday, far in the future, when the history of humanity’s journey into space is written, I hope there is a small paragraph about a place in Utah that inspired children to lift their eyes from the ground and look toward the stars, imagining what could be.
Imagination is our fuel. Wonder is our language.
So, troubadours, let us gather once more around the campfire and prepare for the next campaign. Summer lies ahead, and already, countless children are counting down the days until their Space EdVentures begin.
For now, let us rest while the Space Center closes this week for maintenance. Then let us rise refreshed and ready for the busy summer season ahead.
There is still more to do. There is always more to do as we continue playing our small but meaningful part in helping humanity become a spacefaring civilization.
Ad Astra!
Mr. Williamson
Working With Utah's Finest, the Space Center's Volunteers, and One Who Made a Difference Many Years Ago
Since opening our doors in 1990, the Space Center has relied on the passion and dedication of volunteers of all ages. As a part of the Alpine School District, these individuals provide the vital energy and labor that keep our programs running—doing everything from acting and prop building to programming and mission writing. Many eventually transition onto our paid staff.
It has been my privilege to work alongside them. While we regularly remind our volunteers how essential they are to our mission, they just as often remind us how much the Space Center enriches their lives.
Jackson Miller beautifully embodied this special relationship. He was truly one of our finest, dedicating his talents to our community until the very end of his short life.
In looking through our archives from late May 2008, I came across a short tribute to Jackson. On this anniversary of his passing, I would like to share it with you again to honor his memory and the legacy he left behind.
Joined Staff: September 17, 2005
Overnight Hours: 76
Daytime Hours: 97.5
Last Mission: June 15, 2007
Died: May 20, 2008
On Tuesday, a brave young man passed away from leukemia at the Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. Jackson Miller was a member of our Space Center volunteer family. He was a junior high student from Highland, Utah. A few years ago, Jackson was a regular volunteer. His favorite ship was the Magellan. He was here for the old Magellan’s last mission before the remodeling. He was soft spoken, polite, and always ready to do his best. I enjoyed his company on the Voyager many times. He was always smiling - that is what I’ll remember most about Jackson.
Jackson stopped coming to the Center. I wondered why. Later, I discovered he had leukemia. He was fighting for his life. For a brief time, his cancer went into remission. He returned home. He started volunteering again. The chemotherapy took most of his hair, but his smile was still there. I talked to him about his illness. His hopes were high.
Once again, Jackson stopped coming. I learned he had a remission. He was admitted to the Primary Children’s Hospital. His family moved to Salt Lake to be closer to him. I didn’t know how serious his condition was until a week ago Friday, when a teacher friend of mine told me he was dying. I was preparing a letter to mail and a card from all of us when the news of his death came on Tuesday.
I’m saddened we didn’t get to say goodbye while he was alive. I’ll say it now.
Goodbye Jackson. Thank you for sharing some of your precious few months of mortality with us. I’ll miss your smile and laughter. I’m proud to know that you loved the Space Center. I’m proud that our work brought some joy to your life.
Mr. Williamson








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