Max on the Moon!
Well, maybe not the moon. We did experience a spacecraft simulator, a 4G force trainer, a planetarium filled with stars, robot battles, rocket building and launches, conversations with a three-mission astronaut, and a whole lot more.
Last week I took my ten-year-old grandson, Max, to Space Camp. Our destination was the Cosmosphere in Hutchinson, Kansas, one of the nation’s premier space museums and educational centers. The trip was sponsored by Road Scholar—yes, the organization once known as Elderhostel. Their grandparent-grandchild programs pair grandparents with children between the ages of 10 and 14 for educational adventures.
There were fifteen grandparents and fifteen grandchildren. Three married couples each brought two grandchildren, eight grandmothers came with one grandchild each, and then there was me—the lone solo grandfather. Come on, grandpas. We can do better.
The children included ten boys and five girls. The girls quickly found one another. Five of the older boys formed what Max described as a “teen vibe.” The younger boys eventually created their own group, while one particularly sweet young man stayed mostly with his grandmother.
Watching thirty strangers become a community turned out to be almost as interesting as Space Camp itself.
The Cosmosphere staff understood that teaching both generations required creativity. Some activities paired grandparents and grandchildren. Others mixed everyone together, while a few were just for the kids. Throughout the week the instructors rotated seamlessly from one activity to another.
Unfortunately, United Airlines had other plans for Max and me. After years of flying United, complete with free luggage, priority boarding, and occasional upgrades, I wasn’t expecting to wake up at four in the morning to a text message that simply read:
“Your flight has been canceled.”
Not just delayed, “Canceled.”
After an exhausting day at the airport and on the phone, our best option was another night in Newark, followed by an early morning flight to Wichita and a one-hour drive to Hutchinson. We arrived nearly twenty-four hours late. Missing the opening day meant more than losing a few activities. Everyone else had already met. Introductions had been made. Friendships were forming. Max and I had to catch up—both academically and socially.
The camp material wasn’t much of a concern. Max and I are both quick studies, and we had been reminded of one of life’s useful lessons the day before, that I’d been repeating throughout our travel ordeal: always stay flexible and always have a Plan B.
The social part was another story. The staff did their best, but it’s difficult to insert two newcomers into a group that’s already beginning to gel. So I took matters into my own hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I announced with a smile, “I’m Tom, this is Max, and we’re a day late because United canceled our flight yesterday.”
It turned out to be the perfect conversation starter with the grandparents. One after another they wandered over to sympathize, swap airline horror stories, and welcome us.
The kids, however, couldn’t have cared less. Max stayed close to me. I knew enough not to push kid introductions too hard. Adults arranging children’s friendships rarely works. Still, I quietly tried a few. Nothing happened. Nobody was unfriendly. Nobody was especially welcoming either. They were kids being kids.
As I watched Max standing on the outside, memories of my own middle school years came rushing back—those painful days of awkwardness and wondering whether anyone would invite you in. I assumed he was feeling exactly what I had once felt.
One of the younger boys wandered over to another child and started playing a game. Earlier that day I had heard him declare the other boy his “best friend.” Max simply stood nearby and watched. From a distance I was a nervous wreck. I could feel my anxiety building.
Then, after I was distracted for a few minutes talking with one of the grandmothers about our travel fiasco, something happened. When I looked back, all three boys were laughing together. It was nothing short of a hallelujah moment for me.
The week had many highs and lots of smiles and laughs. One of my favorites was when the kids were out in a big field recovering our proudly launched rockets as they fell back to the ground from a lofty space trip of say 300 feet. Fleet of foot Max recovered more rockets than anyone. Later he told me, “Those big kids aren’t so bad.”
As the week unfolded, I realized something even more important. Max wasn’t just patient enough to wait for an opening into a group. He instinctively made sure no one else ever felt left out. Whenever we worked on projects, he noticed who was missing supplies and quietly delivered what they needed—even if it meant he came up short himself. When one boy had no iPad to join an activity, Max simply handed him his own and sat quietly while the others played. He wasn’t thinking about himself. He was thinking about the room.
I also noticed how carefully he watched over me. Because I walk slowly and use a cane, he constantly checked to be sure I wasn’t falling behind. Before joining other kids in optional activities, he always looked back to make sure I was all right. Of course, I told him to go have fun with the other children.
But I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy those little check-ins. More than once I noticed a few of the grandmothers whose grandsons had disappeared with the older boys looking over with just a hint of envy.
I’ve always believed in making memories. It was one of my guiding principles as a parent, and it’s become even more important as a grandfather. Five days at Space Camp gave Max memories of rockets, robots, astronauts, and the stars and some new friends. It gave me something even better. I already knew my grandson was smart. I came home knowing he is adaptable, quietly confident, observant, and deeply kind.
Max may not have made it to the moon. But I did.
If you enjoyed this story, please consider subscribing to my Substack at Wells on the Highway. You can also learn more about my memoir, Naked on the Highway, and my upcoming book, Dream, Plan, Do!, at www.wellsonthehighway.com.
July 16, 2026