The Village Squire, 1981-08, Page 28Six Achers
by Yvonne Reynolds
The strange, wide world of the ham
My husband is a ham. This has nothing
to do with porcine posteriors or thespian
excesses. Don is a radio amateur, one
small link in a million -strong chain that
encircles our global village. His interest
in this engrossing pastime was first
aroused when one of his sister's
boyfriends showed kid brother his
amateur radio station. The memory of all
those mysterious black boxes equipped
with quivering needles, flashing lights
and intricately calibrated dials helped
determine Don's choice of career as a
radio officer in the RCAF. (The former
boyfriend went on to law, served as an
MPP, is now a judge, and still an active
ham.)
Becoming a radio amateur is like
contracting an incurable disease - one is
marked for life, and seeks solace and
comfort regularly with other similarily
afflicted sufferers. Some of the symptoms
include heads tilted up at 45 degree
angles, eyes constantly scanning rooftops
for inverted vees. dipoles. and cubical
quads pinpointing the abode of a frater-
nal brother, and fingers nervously drum-
ming out messages in Morse code on any
handy vertical or horizontal surface.
Ten months after we moved to
Newfoundland, a baby's bed was set up
in Don's "ham shack". At the time I
blamed the prevailing winds from
Conception Bay, but am now wondering if
1 was the victim of gamma rays, solar
flares, or errant radio emissions.
Often as Don bent over his Morse key
he became aware that he was being
observed. He would turn around in his
swivel chair to see a little boy standing up
in the corner of his crib, wide-awake
brown eyes implishly reflecting the glow
from the radio receiver. We waited
anxiously for Colin's first words. firmly
convinced that instead of "da da" they
would be "dah-dit-di-dah".
Hams recognized each other by signs
as unmistakable as a lodge member's
secret handshake. One of our most
cherished and closest friendships began
when a newcomer to Ottawa walked past
our house and spotted a big insulator on
our clothesline. Frank knew he was hot on
the trail of another radio amateur.
On the negative side, friendships can
be strained to the breaking point. We
once drove over 100 miles from Halifax to
Greenwood to visit friends. When we
arrived, George was in the basement
talking on the ham band to a "contact".
Although we stayed three hours, with
George's XYL (ex young lady/wife)
disappearing for short intervals and
reappearing, progressively more agitat-
ed, we never did see George.
Hams talk to each other in acronyms,
abbreviations and Q codes; 73s and 88s
are "best wishes" and "hugs and
kisses". They refer to each other as OM
(old man); Europeans and South Ameri-
cans, being more emotional, preface this
with the word "dear". The bulk of the
conversation is technical and, to the
uninitated, dull, dull, dull. Don might
discuss equipment with a Jesuit priest in
the Amazon jungle, or exchange read -
ab ility and signal strength with a
Russian soldier in Northern Sibera.
Talking on a ham set is cheaper than on
a phone, but has its drawbacks. With a
bit of help from Ma Bell, I can converse
with my Vancouver son for hours on such
diverse topics as whether the Treaty of
Versailles sowed the seeds of World War
II, or if Margaret Laurence's The
Diviners should be on the required
reading list for Grade 13 English
students. After Don, with the help of
fellow hams, establishes a phone patch
with my son, and I realize that every radio
enthusiast from Bonavista to Bella Bella
and from the Argentine to the Arctic can
listen in, I ask for my child's name, rank
and serial number and hang up. And he's
not even in the army!
Now that we live in the country, Don is
in his glory. He spends one-third of his
time building antennas, another third
erecting them on a high tower, and the
rest of the time trying to figure out why
they don't work.
I hardly dare leave our six acres. The
minute my back is turned he is boring
holes in floors, taking slices off doors,
tunnelling through walls and putting
wires through, under, over and around
anything that can be bored, drilled,
soldered or demolished.
Recently Don was able to put our
neighbour's brother-in-law, visiting from
Germany, in touch with relatives back
home. As Hans designs test gear for
radio and radar equipment carried on
Lufthansa aircraft, Don hoped for a
potential convert.
"Ever consider becoming a ham?" he
queried.
Hans threw up his hands in horror.
0",
"Nein", he replied emphatically. "1 have
friends who have become hams, and they
have spent so much time with radio their
marriaged lasted an average of only five
years."
Well, I am past the five-year mark, and
being a ham's XYL does have its rewards
- I always know what time it is in
Greenwich, England.
Yvonne Reynolds and husband la retired
CAF of/icerl share six rural acres with
one hastily bred part Sheltie, one
Himalayan aristocut. one peasant cut.
and an aper -changing number of Bantle
chickens and Saanen and Nubian gouts.
tasty -nu
Bakery & Cheese House
` \ a
Fresh baked bread, rolls,
pastries daily!
40 kinds of doughnuts
over 60 varieties of
Canadian and imported
cheeses
Zurich
236-4912
Seaforth
527-1803
VILLAGE SQUIRE/AUGUST 1981 PG. 27