For Just A Little Bit...

by Frank Hovie

After working for ten hours already there was a short lull in my evening work as I hung up with some upper management personnel. It was already 10:00P.M. and I was tremendously overwhelmed with the amount of work yet needing to be done and still swimming in the urgency of the projects I had already begun or completed. I was looking for some kind of distraction for just a little bit to help me have an enjoyable moment for the day. My finger instinctively found the power switch on my TS50 on the desk next to my computer.

I imagined the tip of my antenna waving to the fuzzy Hale Bopp in a star filled breezy desert night with wisps of clouds floating along as unusually shaped aircraft landed and took off at the nearby Skunk Works. ‘I wonder if the antenna will load up O.K. tonight on 40 CW,’ I thought as I spun the smooth black dial on my tiny Japanese transceiver. I heard enough signals of sufficient strength to convince me that even with my diminutive little set up, I might be able to engage in a little chat with some one out there in the darkness. I spun by a strong VE7 station returning to a unreadable Indonesian station. I could hear the pride in his fist as he savored his trophy QSO knowing that only the few with a truly fine station could participate in the kind of adventures he was enjoying. There was the usual Georgia, Florida and Texas bunch at around 035. Like so many others, they were growing old together with friendships forged in log entries that peppered the pages dating back many years. I found a nice quiet little corner at about 040 and squeezed off a brief CQ.

The action of my Bencher paddle is as smooth as the hair trigger of a sniper rifle and the rapid dits so common in my call reminded me of short little machine gun bursts of R.F. penetrating the darkness to some unknown destination. Or they might be off into deep space to join with the wandering traveler that unknowingly had lost souls attempt to join with it this week. I love the feel of sending code knowing that there are so few left that know it, even fewer that love it; a feeling that keeps those of us who use it a tight knit brotherhood that lives on the low bands in the evening to form that special bond that can transport us to other places, often the places we need to be for just a little bit.

Since I had to move from a more rural location where my tower would actually scrape the sky and my antenna would command attention from any ham that drove within miles of it thinking, ‘I’ll bet that plays well,’ I have had to settle for more relationship building and less wallpaper acquisition. I didn’t have time for pile up busting these days anyway and realize that some day the glory days will return with aluminum overcasts bringing joy to my log book pages again. As static filled the room like a warm mist following my short volley, I really didn’t expect much and two signals immediately appeared. ‘I love being popular,’ I thought as I copied the call of the strongest station. His name is Raul and he lives in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. The code floated in the static mist in my office transforming it to a mountain with evening shadows falling from a hillside covered with trees, haze and a little log cabin with smoke coming out of the fireplace and a little vertical antenna along side, just like mine.

Raul did not have to work on Good Friday, he had the week off and his restfulness filled my bones as he talked about the little projects that would keep him busy this weekend. I could see him sitting in his old wooden chair, leaning on his desk with his little Japanese mini-wonder thinking how it must be to live in the high tech desert with high falluten big wigs waiting for important business to get done at all hours of the night. Amidst the rustling of leaves from the gentle evening breeze outside, my signals were descending from the starry night into his shack filling his room with mist and my beeping was drawing pictures of Joshua trees and cell phones and miles of commuting from appointment to appointment. As I was being refreshed from his world swirling in my office, he was having adventures in my world swirling in his cabin. Although a transcript might seem mundane to the casual pedestrian, a spiritual event was occurring that gave both of us that little cherry on the top of our day.

After breathing in about twenty minutes of the Smoky Mountain mist, a sound crashed into my world that instantly evaporated his world’s intrusion into mine. I lifted the telephone receiver and sent a quick AS - he responded with an R, letting me know that he understood what was coming. My world had shoved away the quiet hillside like a Train blasting a parked car out of a railroad crossing. I placed the telephone receiver down and reluctantly informed him that duty called. He was understanding and we exchanged our best wishes. I returned to my work feeling just a little bit refreshed. It did not require a lot of time. It did not require a lot of money. It did not require a lot of skill or knowledge. I had just a little bit of luck, and a little bit of peace.

De N6FH

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