[DX-CHAT] [Fwd: Expeditions and Japanese Sponsorship]

2006-12-27 Thread Tom Wylie



 Original Message 
Subject:Expeditions and Japanese Sponsorship
Date:   Wed, 27 Dec 2006 10:18:15 +
From:   Tom Wylie [EMAIL PROTECTED]
To: DX-CHAT dx-chat@njdxa.org



I was just looking at the list of sponsors of the forthcoming VU7RG 
expedition.   I can remember back to my trip to T33C and again there 
were very few Japanese expedition sponsors.   I dont know why this sould 
be as there must be more japanese ham radio operators than any country 
in the world except perhaps USA and yet look at the generosity of the 
American Hams and Clubs.


Perhaps we do not know enough about Japanese Clubs and DX Associations 
or do they just ignore the please for sponsorship.?   Yet there is 
always a never ending stream of JAs wanting to work your expedition.  I 
have found that from every corner of the world even down in VP8.


I see a few personal contributions from JA hams on the VU7RG web page 
but only one readily identifiable sponsorship from a Japanese foundation.


It makes me think!


73 de tom
GM4FDM
(My last controversial post for the year)



Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat


To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org




[DX-CHAT] VU7LD

2006-12-27 Thread Tom Wylie
Am I reading the QSL info wrong?   There is no mention of Buro cards and 
there only appears to be 3 QSOs per card?


Kindly include a robust self addresssed envelope and enclose a MINIMUM 
of 2 IRCs (NEW BLUE ONES ONLY) or 1 green stamp (U$D) per card and 
help support the DXpedition. 3 QSO's can be confirmed per card. 
Donations may be sent to Joe W3HNK and he will pass it on to us. Please 
include your emails so we can thank you.


So if you work 9 band / mode slots you need 6 IRCs?I know you can 
get QSL software with more than 3 QSOs per label


Seems to me it smacks a wee bit of buying your QSL card.


Tom GM4FDM

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat


To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org




RE: [DX-CHAT] The New York Times

2006-12-27 Thread Ron Notarius W3WN
The New York TimesMuch better of an article than I expected.  Thanks for the
tip!

What I don't understand, though, is this:  Why is the dropping of the code
element for testing automatically seen by so many as the imminent demise of
our use of the code?  Yes, testing will no longer be required, and yes, the
exclusive CW bands have shrunk, and I'm sure in time the number of CW
operators MAY drop... but then again, it may not...

About 2 months ago, when I was struggling with a temporary vertical
(wouldn't load on 30, that's another story), a friend, a recent Extra,
called on the phone.  Told him I was trying to work a particular DX station
on 30; he tuned in and worked him in 2 calls, the stinker.  Anyway, when we
got back to talking, I told him I'd heard both ends of the QSO, so it was
good; Randy asked me what software I was using to decode the signals, and I
told him it was the organic one between my ears.  He was totally astounded
that I was able to copy really fast code in my head!  (It was about 25 wpm
or so, but that too is another story!)

We talked about this again at the club christmas party 2 weeks ago.  Randy
stopped using the computer as a crutch; now that he knows it can be done,
he's starting to do it.  And he's finding out that he enjoys operating code
even more!

So... there's hope.  So why all the doom and gloom?

Yes, the FCC handed us a lemon.  Want to make lemonade out of it?  (Me?
Nah, find me some tequilla and salt instead... g)

73
  -Original Message-
  From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] Behalf Of
harris_ruben
  Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 8:44 AM
  To: dx-chat List
  Subject: [DX-CHAT] The New York Times


  Well, we've made today's New York Times


  n2ern


RE: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD

2006-12-27 Thread Ron Notarius W3WN
Best to ask Joe himself how to handle this.  

-Original Message-
From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] Behalf
Of Tom Wylie
Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 9:17 AM
To: DX-CHAT
Subject: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD


Am I reading the QSL info wrong?   There is no mention of Buro cards and 
there only appears to be 3 QSOs per card?

Kindly include a robust self addresssed envelope and enclose a MINIMUM 
of 2 IRCs (NEW BLUE ONES ONLY) or 1 green stamp (U$D) per card and 
help support the DXpedition. 3 QSO's can be confirmed per card. 
Donations may be sent to Joe W3HNK and he will pass it on to us. Please 
include your emails so we can thank you.

So if you work 9 band / mode slots you need 6 IRCs?I know you can 
get QSL software with more than 3 QSOs per label

Seems to me it smacks a wee bit of buying your QSL card.


Tom GM4FDM

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org



Re: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD

2006-12-27 Thread Bill
Simple... Run off you QSOs three (3) per card and put 2 IRC's OR 1 USD per 
card.


Bill
- Original Message - 
From: Ron Notarius W3WN [EMAIL PROTECTED]

To: Tom Wylie [EMAIL PROTECTED]; DX-CHAT dx-chat@njdxa.org
Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 9:48 AM
Subject: RE: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD



Best to ask Joe himself how to handle this.

-Original Message-
From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] Behalf
Of Tom Wylie
Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 9:17 AM
To: DX-CHAT
Subject: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD


Am I reading the QSL info wrong?   There is no mention of Buro cards and
there only appears to be 3 QSOs per card?

Kindly include a robust self addresssed envelope and enclose a MINIMUM
of 2 IRCs (NEW BLUE ONES ONLY) or 1 green stamp (U$D) per card and
help support the DXpedition. 3 QSO's can be confirmed per card.
Donations may be sent to Joe W3HNK and he will pass it on to us. Please
include your emails so we can thank you.

So if you work 9 band / mode slots you need 6 IRCs?I know you can
get QSL software with more than 3 QSOs per label

Seems to me it smacks a wee bit of buying your QSL card.


Tom GM4FDM

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA
http://njdxa.org

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA
http://njdxa.org




Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat


To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org




Re: [DX-CHAT] The New York Times

2006-12-27 Thread Barry
CW will die a slow death, at least in the US.  The no-code license is a 
dead end.  It will be the rare no-coder that takes the time and effort 
to learn CW and stick with it long enough to become proficient for on 
the air use (i.e., 25-30 WPM.)  As we OFs get older and disappear, 
nobody will be taking our place on the CW bands. 

When I was in Macedonia last year, at the High Speed Telegraphy 
Championship, I was amazed at all the young kids there from eastern EU.  
Some of them are CW ops only, and not real hams, but if CW survives 
anywhere, that's where it will be.

Barry, W2UP

Ron Notarius W3WN wrote:

Much better of an article than I expected.  Thanks for the tip!
 
What I don't understand, though, is this:  Why is the dropping of the 
code element for testing automatically seen by so many as the imminent 
demise of our use of the code?  Yes, testing will no longer be 
required, and yes, the exclusive CW bands have shrunk, and I'm sure in 
time the number of CW operators MAY drop... but then again, it may not...
 
About 2 months ago, when I was struggling with a temporary vertical 
(wouldn't load on 30, that's another story), a friend, a recent Extra, 
called on the phone.  Told him I was trying to work a particular DX 
station on 30; he tuned in and worked him in 2 calls, the stinker.  
Anyway, when we got back to talking, I told him I'd heard both ends of 
the QSO, so it was good; Randy asked me what software I was using to 
decode the signals, and I told him it was the organic one between my 
ears.  He was totally astounded that I was able to copy really fast 
code in my head!  (It was about 25 wpm or so, but that too is another 
story!)
 
We talked about this again at the club christmas party 2 weeks ago.  
Randy stopped using the computer as a crutch; now that he knows it can 
be done, he's starting to do it.  And he's finding out that he enjoys 
operating code even more!
 
So... there's hope.  So why all the doom and gloom? 
 
Yes, the FCC handed us a lemon.  Want to make lemonade out of it?  
(Me?  Nah, find me some tequilla and salt instead... g)
 
73


-Original Message-
*From:* [EMAIL PROTECTED]
[mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] Behalf Of *harris_ruben
*Sent:* Wednesday, December 27, 2006 8:44 AM
*To:* dx-chat List
*Subject:* [DX-CHAT] The New York Times

Well, we've made today's New York Times

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/12/27/business/27morse.html?ex=1167886800en=b53d88e01be66bb6ei=5070emc=eta1

n2ern



--

Barry Kutner, W2UP 
Newtown, PA 



Re: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD

2006-12-27 Thread Bill Jackson



 Simple... Run off you QSOs three (3) per card and put 2 IRC's OR 1 USD per
 card.

 Bill

For those of you lucky enough to have more than ONE QSO!  Such a delema!
:+)

73 de Bill

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org



Re: [DX-CHAT] Don't Tell Me, It Fell Off The Truck

2006-12-27 Thread Zack Widup
About 10 years ago my landlord came up with a 40 foot telephone pole that 
he thought would make a nice tower for me.  He had it setting in his 
yard and we were just about to transport it to my place and put it up as 
a free-standing pole in a big hole I'd dug when someone stole it out of 
his yard!  In the middle of the day while he was gone!

I just hope no one does that with the HG-37SS I have setting in the yard 
before I can put it up next spring.

73, Zack W9SZ


On Wed, 27 Dec 2006, Ron Notarius W3WN wrote:

 How do you lose a tower?
 
 Seriously?
 
[snip]
 
 So, Randy gets a call from his warehouse people, telling him that Roadway
 had come and gone... no tower.  He starts making calls.  The official word:
 They lost it.
 
 He called Tash Towers, talked to their shipping people.  First words they
 said:  They lost it?  How could they lose a tower?
 

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org



RE: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD

2006-12-27 Thread Peter Penta
Fairly simple reading...the VU7 card has room for 3 qso's and it will be a
donation of 1 dollar per returned 3 qso card...the card sent to Joe could
have 100 on it or 1...even just the calls , times and dates on a piece of
loose leaf would do. Seems they would like individual email addresses too
for thank you replies of the donation you make. 

Pete

-Original Message-
From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] On Behalf Of
Bill
Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 10:33 AM
To: dx-chat@njdxa.org
Subject: Re: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD

Simple... Run off you QSOs three (3) per card and put 2 IRC's OR 1 USD per 
card.

Bill
- Original Message - 
From: Ron Notarius W3WN [EMAIL PROTECTED]
To: Tom Wylie [EMAIL PROTECTED]; DX-CHAT dx-chat@njdxa.org
Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 9:48 AM
Subject: RE: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD


 Best to ask Joe himself how to handle this.

 -Original Message-
 From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] Behalf
 Of Tom Wylie
 Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 9:17 AM
 To: DX-CHAT
 Subject: [DX-CHAT] VU7LD


 Am I reading the QSL info wrong?   There is no mention of Buro cards and
 there only appears to be 3 QSOs per card?

 Kindly include a robust self addresssed envelope and enclose a MINIMUM
 of 2 IRCs (NEW BLUE ONES ONLY) or 1 green stamp (U$D) per card and
 help support the DXpedition. 3 QSO's can be confirmed per card.
 Donations may be sent to Joe W3HNK and he will pass it on to us. Please
 include your emails so we can thank you.

 So if you work 9 band / mode slots you need 6 IRCs?I know you can
 get QSL software with more than 3 QSOs per label

 Seems to me it smacks a wee bit of buying your QSL card.


 Tom GM4FDM

 Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems
 http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

 To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

 This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA
 http://njdxa.org

 Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems
 http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

 To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

 This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA
 http://njdxa.org
 


Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org



Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org



RE: [DX-CHAT] Don't Tell Me, It Fell Off The Truck

2006-12-27 Thread Ron Notarius W3WN
Here's the 'official' word on what happened with Roadway Express... must be
run by former FCC personnel...

-
I am happy to say that the Tilt-Over Section and base plate of the tower
made it to Pittsburgh in 1 piece. However, the tower is nowhere to be found.
While on its way from California to Pittsburgh, it appears that the two
packages somehow got separated. How you ask? I have no idea and neither does
Roadway Express. It seems that the 12 foot X 36” X 24” CRATE got lost.
Roadway tells me that it never made it to Akron or Pittsburgh; the last 2
stops it made.

Anyways, Roadway is looking for the crate with our tower in it and Tashjian
Towers has filed a missing cargo claim, just incase they have to build us a
new one. Thank Goodness for Shipping Insurance!! I have made all the
necessary phone calls to the shipping company and the manufacturer to ensure
we get what we paid for.

If it is truly lost, Roadway will pay Tashjian Towers and they will build us
a new one. I know that is not what I or you all wanted to hear, but at least
our investment is protected.  -- de Randy N3ZK
-

Well, at least we'll still have our tower, it will just take longer than we
thought.  Would have been very nice to have it in time for our hamfest on
February 25th, but unless it shows up pretty soon, I wouldn't expect to get
the replacement tower in time.  (And that's assuming that they not only find
it but find it in good condition... I'm beginning to wonder if it's sitting
in pieces in a warehouse or transfer facility somewhere because some putz
running the forklift dropped it, or something like that!)

I've heard privately from a few of you that this may actually not be that
uncommon with Roadway Express... they seem to have a reputation for losing
things or not delivering them, and finding creative excuses to blame someone
else.  Still, this is ridiculous.  And I also hope that if Roadway Express
does have to pay to replace the tower, Tashjian Towers uses another carrier
to ship it.  And if it costs more, that's OK -- Roadway can pay for it!

Sorry if I'm venting a little guys, but I'm steamed.  Randy worked his butt
off, literally, to get this project moving; he's personally invested a
significant amount of time in creating the wooden callsign plaques that have
helped fund it, and personally arranged for two of our big corporate
donations.  He could have walked away with his hands thrown up in the air in
disgust, but he stuck to it, fought for it, SUCCEEDED... and now this?

73

-Original Message-
From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED] Behalf
Of Ron Notarius W3WN
Sent: Wednesday, December 27, 2006 1:49 PM
To: DX Chat Reflector
Subject: [DX-CHAT] Don't Tell Me, It Fell Off The Truck


How do you lose a tower?

Seriously?

My local club, the Wireless Association of South Hills, has spent the last
18 months plus raising funds to purchase a mobile tower (see www.n3sh.org
for details).  When we had enough funds for the tower itself, it was paid
for and ordered from Tashjian Towers (formerly Tri-Ex).  Tower and base
mount were assembled, tested, and shipped, due to arrive today.

The person who has been organizing the project, Randy N3ZK, had arranged for
the tower to be delivered to his workplace so that there would be enough
people to unload the tower properly -- and sign for it too.

So, Randy gets a call from his warehouse people, telling him that Roadway
had come and gone... no tower.  He starts making calls.  The official word:
They lost it.

He called Tash Towers, talked to their shipping people.  First words they
said:  They lost it?  How could they lose a tower?

All I can say is, Roadway had better find that tower -- or get on the horn
to their insurance people.Meanwhile, I may have to have a word with one
of the newest members of the club... who recently passed the bar and is now
an attorney...

How can you lose a tower?  I'm just flabbergasted!

73

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA
http://njdxa.org

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat

To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org



RE: [DX-CHAT] The New York Times

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole
The NY Times again proved its grey lady of the newspapers distinction with 
a really great article about CW and ham radio The best I have ever seen 
on our beloved topic.

73

Charles Harpole,  HS0ZCW
[EMAIL PROTECTED]

_
From photos to predictions, The MSN Entertainment Guide to Golden Globes has 

it all. http://tv.msn.com/tv/globes2007/

Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat


To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org




[DX-CHAT] I just have to say this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to say this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to send this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to say this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to say this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to send this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to send this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to say this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to send this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to say this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

[DX-CHAT] I just have to say this....

2006-12-27 Thread Charles Harpole

Please forgive me, but I just have to send this.

	I started ham radio at age thirteen, the time when young people are seeking 
simultaneously two opposing goals—adult independence versus group belonging 
and bonding.  Ironically for a medium devoted to communication, ham radio 
blends these two goals uniquely.  Ham radio fulfills my need to belong while 
definitely keeping my desired isolation:  radios have an on and off knob 
and, during contacts, the flavor is, at once, both intimate and distant, 
friendly like a brotherhood and yet mostly transitory and ephemeral.  It 
perfectly fits my personality.  Ham radio, for me, has outlived my parents, 
my first marriage, my youth and my middle age.  It is a constant in a 
turbulent world.
	And, yet, like me, it is nearing the end of its life.  It appears that 
there is just no way to pass on to today’s teenagers the wonder of radio, 
the adventure, the shared fraternity of instant friends, the code of honor, 
or the simple delights of “getting on the air.”  Everything changes and 
acceptance of that lets one live happier, but I still want to record a 
little part of this amazing phenomenon, ham radio, while it is still 
vibrant.
The wonder and adventure part of ham radio is like that arising from looking 
at maps that still had “unknown territories” marked on them.  Now, GPS will 
tell you to the square meter about any place on earth.  But, turning on a 
ham radio transports the operator back to that sense of unpredictable 
adventure, blending “wanting to know” with anticipation and appreciation of 
what may come by chance and skill.  There are times, when I am deep into the 
“zone,” totally concentrating on hearing and tuning, that “the band” 
becomes, for me, an actual place that is alive, a location, a space 
inhabited, from one turn of the knob to the next, by living signals from 
somewhere beyond me.  The “not knowing what will happen next” is so much a 
part of the adventure of ham radio.  Remember that time when the rare DX 
actually called you?
	The shared fraternity of friends likely had its origins with early radio 
when the sparks shack kept ship passengers alive and when the operators were 
sworn to secrecy.  Do we remember the old dictate that ham radio operators 
never divulge the content of messages heard?  That code of honor to both 
keep secrets and to be a very real lifeline bonded radio operators to each 
other.  That, and shared difficulties—learning the code and electronics, 
making and keeping a station, helping each other.  The bonding comes as the 
older ham patiently taps out CW for your struggling brain.  Brotherhood 
comes, too, from holding the end of a rope that secures a yagi at 
one-hundred feet, knowing that if you slip, your ham buddy above will 
suffer.  And, doing it all purely for the love of the activity;  that is, 
truly being an amateur in the fullest sense of the word.
	Ham radio is leaving Florida and arriving half way around the world in the 
airport in Nepal and having a smiling face there holding a placard with 
K4VUD on it.  Or, again in the Delhi airport with three hams to greet me, 
drive me to a Pizza Hut, and then to my hotel.  Or, there and in Thailand, 
have local hams deliver the impossible-to-get operator license for me, and 
in three days!
	Ham radio is, at a Field Day, worrying as the operator spills an 807 down 
onto a 6146 in a Johnson Ranger—and delighting that I know what all that 
means!  And then there is the joy of knowing you can actually help people.  
Ham radio is, as a teen, being saluted by a uniformed soldier because 
you—young you—just gave him a ham radio message noting his buddy was ok 
coming out of flood waters.  Or the mother who, because of you and your 
radio, now knows her son survived the tornado.  Or the world knows 
conditions following a massive tsunami.
	And, then, there are the rag chews.  The simple joy of indulging in 
ordinary—or is it extraordinary?—talk.  The surprise when the other guy also 
shares your exact health symptoms—gives helpful coping hints.   Or, the 
detailed description of an operator’s sheep ranch in New Zealand when you 
yourself have just ventured to the next State.  Or the man who recounts his 
having actually talked with both Barry Goldwater and the King of Jordan.  Or 
the operator proclaiming himself in “radio free Lithuania” following the 
fall of the Soviet Union and then telling all about his feelings.  The 
combined intimacy and isolation imparts the phenomena of “a stranger on a 
train” which brings out the delightful personality and memorable stories 
from the ham in all of us.  And at those times when we open up and talk, we 
know our little confidences will be kept even while the whole world could be 
listening.  And what about ham radio’s instant friends?  That phrase seems 
improbable but, remember the eye balls—“I finally meet the guy I have talked 
to for years”  “I have never heard of you before, but sit down and let me 
get you a 

Re: [DX-CHAT] I just have to say this....

2006-12-27 Thread Dan Zimmerman N3OX

It appears that
there is just no way to pass on to today's teenagers the wonder of radio,


There's no opportunity.  I would imagine that ham radio was much
bigger in the general public conciousness in 1956.

I just stumbled upon ham radio in 1995 at 15 years old as a result of
thorough geekery and a little bit of CB.  DX hooked me.  None of my
friends got it.

You can turn the radio on and let them listen to the beeping or the
donald duck voices and tell them that they're coming in from faraway
Place X and they just don't get it.  I think it's because DX isn't
about distance, but that's all you can really talk about... it's not
about contacting foreign nations; you can do that on the internet.

DX is about the quality the band has when the K index is zero and it's
four in the morning and the lake effect snow is howling outside...
It's about staring out the window into the darkness as you spin the
knob and you're not in the shack; not really, anyway.  You're out
*there* somewhere, looking for the DX.

DX is about the emptiness of a quiet open band.  It's about the
potential to trip across a new one faintly bleeping a CQ and being the
only one up to answer.

I get it.  Not many people these days do.  I think the magic is there
but it's changed and it's more subtle.  Instant contact with any point
on the globe is routine but you have to know how to get a hold of
them.  My girlfriend gets it.  There used to be a phone booth out in
the middle of the Mojave desert.  It was for some mining town; they'd
drive four or five miles out to the booth to use the phone if they
needed to.  Most of the time it was an empty phone booth in the middle
of the desert with no one around for miles.  She used to call it and
listen to it ring...

Put a signal out there, see what comes back...

Dan
Subscribe/unsubscribe, feedback, FAQ, problems 
http://njdxa.org/dx-chat


To post a message, DX related items only, dx-chat@njdxa.org

This is the DX-CHAT reflector sponsored by the NJDXA 
http://njdxa.org