Father's Day and Ham Radio

[KK4YY]

Exploring the basement, through the unattended items of my fathers life, was I — not yet a man myself. Perched atop the half-wall, created by the long ago dug-out basement, above dad's workbench, was an old brown... what is it? Now tall enough to reach this unknown object, I pulled it from its long repose, beside it, two books. On the bench I examined this box. Within its home made enclosure was a radio. It had tubes inside and those other 'things' that made radios work. A hand-drawn, paper legend had replaced the original dial face, with two large, unmarked knobs on either side. A line cord was neatly coiled and tucked away in back... and a microphone!

The two books I'd found beside it, one who's binding had given way to the years, were titled "The Radio Amateur's Handbook". What's a radio amateur? Was it someone who tinkered with radios long ago before they were 'perfected', as today? Some 'olden days' pass-time that was now a part of history? No, my father explained. There are hams. They talk to each other. Dad was a man of few words and short explanations, I was usually left to discover most things on my own. And the radio? He'd modified an old broadcast table radio, incorporating a transmitter into it, and made a 'citizens band' radio from it to use when he had his TV repair business in the late 1950's. A complimentary converter/transmitter, he'd constructed, was used in his 1950-something Ford Courier 'sedan delivery' service vehicle connected to its broadcast receiver.

Now, I had to plug this old radio in and see if it still worked. I clicked it on. The tubes lit up, the volume control produced scratchy noises, and nothing more... except the odor from the dust baking off of the tubes. (And yes, I can still smell it.) "It needs an antenna, son." An old piece of wire was sufficient to bring in signals of people talking to each other. Listening, I discovered some of them were classmates from my own school. I got that radio to transmit and I talked to those guys. When asked what kind of radio I was using they were quite surprised by my reply — "My dad built it".

Such was the beginnings of my interest in radio. And today, long after dad has passed, I carry on his interest in radio. Must be some gene I inherited. Or was it that old dusty radio that dad couldn't bring himself to throw away?

Happy fathers day, dad. I miss you.

[W7TFO]

You were a lucky boy with a great man for a dad .

73DG

[W3GMS]

Fantastic story and especially appropriate near Fathers Day.  I wonder if you still have that HB set your Dad built?  

My Dad was an insurance salesman.  He knew knowing about electronics but always supported me the best he could.  He found out a guy at the Post Office was a Ham and introduced me to him long before I had my Ham ticket.  Dad took me to the local hardware store to get my first set of porcelain insulators for my antenna.  After hearing this great voice on 75M AM on my floor model radio that I retrieved from our Cub Scout "Good Will" drive, Dad recognized it as someone he sold an insurance policy too. Soon he introduced me to that guy who was Harry-W3FDY.  Harry was the best mentor a kid could have.  

So even though Dad was not electronically inclinded he sure supported my hobby the best way he could.  Dad's been gone 6 years now but the memories never fade!  

Happy Fathers Day to all those Fathers of which I am one!    

73,
Joe, W3GMS

[KK4YY]

I wonder if you still have that HB set your Dad built?  

Yes, Joe, I still have that old rig, but many years of poor storage have taken their toll. Sometimes the things we take for granted today, become the valued treasures of a lfetime many years later. But its not the things that count, of course, its about the people who stand out in our memories - though glorified by our selective recall. And that ability to remember the best of those who've now departed, has the benefit of making our love for them continue to grow. The lesson we take from it, as I'm sure you're aware, is to cherish those who are with us now, every day. Quite a task given life's daily challenges!

Now dad probably made that radio more out of economic nessesity at the time, than imagining it to be some sort of personal legacy. Funny how things turn out sometimes. Still, when I build something, like the tool shed I built last Summer, I imagine it living on after I'm gone. I probably do better work that way, even though I realize the imperminance of anything that I may build. But who knows what object I put my hands to will someday trigger a cherished memory of me to someone after I'm gone.

By the way, I used dad's old carpenters square when I built that tool shed. It's hard to read the numbers on it anymore, but it helped dad build the house we lived in in the 1960's. So when I make a straight cut with it, I recall the story of my dad cutting hip rafters on the ground and handing them up to my grandfather on the roof to set in place. Then my hands become his, still working, still working. And that old radio dad made is still rusting, still rusting. And my memory of dad grows ever fonder, ever fonder.


-Don


P.S. I'm obviously shooting for the "Sentimental Journey" award on this forum. I trust that I have your vote!