I’m Back – Part 2

K3KLC Clearfield PA, USA
Circa 1961

Until now, I have posted nothing about my tour in the United States Navy. In this post, I would like to address just one aspect of my posting to the U.S. Naval Station at Argentia, Newfoundland, Canada. As a teenager, I developed an interest in amateur radio. In December of 1959, I got my amateur radio license. In January of 1962, I joined the navy and had the good fortune of attending a navy electronics school. I did well and the navy assigned me to an airborne early warning squadron in Newfoundland. It was not long until I found the squadron and the base amateur radio stations. I applied for a permit to operate in Canada and in the spring of 1963, I hit the airwaves. My only on-the-air experience had been in U.S. middle Atlantic states, and with equipment that qualified as both dated and conceptually archaic. The navy had equipped Argentia’s with the best of equipment. It was not long until I was a regular feature on the 20 Meter band, talking up and down the US East Coast. Our station proved popular with the U.S. operators, and we soon made wonderful friends. I served in Canada for thirty-two months, two full winters, real ones, the kind you read about, and three awesome summers. All good things, however, eventually end. In October of 1965, I loaded my new wife and my cat, Willy, into my 1965 VW beetle and headed for the States. For the next fifty-two years, ham radio lacked the unique spark that I had experienced in Newfoundland. I tried HF Morse, single sideband traffic nets, mobile operation, and seriously small signal VHF work. Throughout the 1990’s things began to change. IP networking became available to the home user and in 2012, Flex radio introduced the 6,000 series software defined radios, with the promise that remote operation would soon follow. I needed two things, a Flex 6,000 series radio, and a reliable internet connection at my home. I got the radio and I installed more than one-thousand feet of underground cable to bring adequate network performance to my home. An on-the-air meeting produced my first Canadian host. In the fall of 2017, I was once again on 20 Meters, as a us station operating portable in Canada! But there was a catch, the 1952 era bi-lateral agreement that allowed a U.S. amateur to operate in Canada assumed that the operator would physically be in Canada. Remote operation, I discovered required a Canadian Advanced operator Certificate. In October of 2017, we shut the remote station down and I began to study for the Canadian exam. Another catch, the Canadians required that you take the exam in the province in which you wished to operate. So, in February 2018, I flew to Newfoundland and took both the appropriate exams. I missed only one question, not bad for a guy of age seventy-five. Fast forward, after a rocky experience with my first host, today I operate a modest station on the shores of Newfoundland’s Trinity Bay. My operations are primarily “automated digital,” a best fit to my busy schedule. My days of primarily working stations on the U.S. East Coast are also gone. I find myself in an optimum location to relay between North American stations and those in Europe and the Middle East. By way of European gateway stations, I routinely route traffic through the Qatar Amateur Radio Society’s QO-100 geosynchronous satellite. Early on, I started a Trans-Atlantic chat to coordinate with other digital operators. Today the “Trans-Lant” chat hosts operators from the state of California to the city of Tsfat in Israel. Through happenstance, I have created a community. I also have a great Canadian host. He is a warm and helpful human being, and nothing short of a technical wizard. Onsite wizardry is a phenomenal asset.

So, there you have it. I’m Back – Part two. Amateur radio in Newfoundland Canada, reestablished after fifty-two years!

I’m Back – Part 1

The photo credit goes to Grok : )

Hello everyone, I am back! The last post I made on this site was in November of 2024.

To be honest, I cannot clearly identify the cause of that gap. I can tell you that the person who is returning is not the same person who last posted here. I am an octogenarian now, and already one third of the way through my eighth decade. There is something about living one’s last years that helps one be direct, open, and get to the point. Previously, I have often danced around my real feelings, always because those who are closest to me have access to what I write here.  I have alluded to subjects without providing specifics. The only guidance I can offer for decoding my past posts is that each addresses something that has touched my life.

What has been happening?

Most significantly, I have been aging. I have learned that, with age, one’s productivity decreases exponentially.

My wife and I have been involved in animal rescue since the early 1980’s. First, on our own, then with a local humane organization for sixteen and one-half years. In two thousand and nine, we left the organization over the “kill vs. no kill” issue. At that time, we were housing and working with geriatric and hard to adopt dogs. When we left the organization, they transferred twenty-three dogs and approximately eight cats into our custody. All those animals are gone now.

In the early teens, a stray cat arrived on our property. I spent the next three years wooing Mittens. I learned that cats are different from the dogs that I had known. Winning a cat’s friendship and reading their moods was an exciting new challenge.

During the twenty-teens, our forested plot became a magnet for cats, they just kept coming! In addition to the volunteer arrivals, there was a lady with relational stress, who needed to place two of her cats; there were foundling kittens, cats from everywhere! In the dead of the 2016-17 winter, we built our outdoor cat cottage.

We had to decide, were we doing rescue, or were we providing sanctuary?

My experience with the humane organization left me scared. Of every one-hundred adoptions, two or three cause nightmares. We were not a 501C-3, we had no adoption venue, my confidence was low, so we decided that we were a home, a sanctuary, a place to live, rather than another rescue and adoption agency.

What is the upshot? I am nine years retired and I have never worked so hard in my life. We have become an industry. We have a morning person, or at least we have part of one. We have afternoon people. I have had little time for anything that did not have something to do with the care, feeding, and housing of homeless cats. We have been able to re-home some cats, and that is good. We provide spay and neuter assistance, as well as providing cat food and litter to folks that simply cannot afford it. Our only outside assistance comes from Purina. They have been wonderful in providing cat food and litter.

Is there time left over? Not so much.

Time = Distance

My friends lost their cat this week …

When the cat’s last day came, I counted the succession of “lasts” … well knowing what my friends were experiencing …

The last evening with kitty in the house … She has been part of every evening for the past eleven years …

Waking up on her last morning … knowing …

Taking note of her last nap … in a favorite spot …

And finally, her last hour …  In a house, where her presence had … for so long … been a part of the comfort that is simply called … “home” …

I followed their succession of “lasts” … though I was not present …

It is morning again … the first day without her …

Something new separates kitty and her family … time.

Today, time equals distance … and today … distance equals pain …time separates …

Hour-by-hour, they move further-and-further from that precious “time” that was “her time” …

With sadness … bowls will be cleaned and stored … beds and baskets removed from sight …

In a while … hours and days will no longer serve as an effective measure …

In a while … Kitty’s memory takes its indelible place … in the ongoing tapestry that we call … life …

In a while …

Who I’ve Become …

Written on 12/6/21

Today, I found myself smiling as I made my morning coffee…

For me, it’s been sixty years since high school. Back then, I was a modest student … a non-jock … pretty much, as I remember it, just a face in the crowd.  The only things that saved me were “senior chorus” and a group of amateur radio friends, most of whom could have used a little Clearasil.  I was not a member of the “in crowd”.

Edie Lou Robinson was a teacher’s kid; She got good grades, she had a “forever” older boyfriend, and she was accepted by the “in crowd”. But Edie had another trait, she was able to see the good in the nerds, the non-athletic, the average … So somehow, she saw the good in me.

Time passed, people married, found their calling, and spread across the land…  Finally, people began to die … High school takes a deep fade …

I was on the phone with Edie last week, when she related a conversation, during which, she referred to her “best friend from high school”.  The lady on the other end asked, “who is she?” and Edie responded, “it’s not a she but a he.”  

Well folks, that “best friend” … is me…

Listening to Yourself …

I listened to a commencement speech yesterday.  In it, the speaker said this, “Our mind needs to be our servant, rather than our master.”  Viewed in the light of my eighty years of experience, and perhaps my tendency to put pleasure in the place of learning, I appreciated the power in that idea.  Later in the day I mentioned it to a young friend, who immediately took issue with the idea of subjugating our mind to the role of servant. Her mind, she said, “was her friend;” she went to her mind “for advice.”  In thinking about that, I remember when I was living as I should not have been living, let’s say that I was immersed in “yellow” ideas. I too went to myself for advice and, no surprise, the answers that I got were always compatible with my, then, yellow perspective.  I needed “blue” answers, but it was the blue world that I had vacated; my actions were more likely to be condemned by “blue” self-counsel.  What is the upshot here? Be super skeptical of self-counsel and self-approval.  They are always biased.

She Said …

In the course of our divorce, my ex-wife once said, “You don’t make me happy.”
For some inexplicable reason I thought about that today … and …
I walked to the computer to write this:

Depending on oneself for growth and fulfillment is healthy …
Depending on God for happiness, purpose and mission is wise …
Depending on others for any of these is a recipe for disaster …

How Do I Know That She Loves Me?

Pavlofox on Pixabay

Our lawn is comprised of weeds, in an infinite mix of varieties …

When it rains, each variety of weed grows at its own rate … The result is an uneven and unkempt mess…

This evening, I mowed them all to a common height. Nothing can be done to accommodate the differing textures and various hews of green …

I did learn, however, that my wife loves me … for some time later she surveyed my work and said, “the lawn looks good.”

Thank you, dear …

The Kitchen Radio …

I can remember when mornings progressed very slowly …

On those mornings … it took Arthur Godfrey more than three seconds just to say the words “Lipton Tea” …

What Is This, Really?

So far as I know, this site is visited primarily by invited guests.  Last night, I invited a man to visit, and I began to think, what will a stranger make of what he finds here? Perhaps I should explain.

This site contains a few observations about life in general.  Some of those observations reflect my early life in the mountains of Pennsylvania.  Others describe my failures, and the pain that they have caused.  The latter are published solely in the hope that, through reading them, even just one of my readers might be influenced to avoid making the same mistakes.

This site also chronicles a transition between two vastly different worldviews. The first is driven by values that are set by the world around us, by man’s standards, and in many cases, by man’s lust. The second is a Bible centric worldview, which is centered on God’s perfect plan for your life and mine. This change required that I transition my life from what I will call an experience base, to an experience that is faith based.  But I had doubt. To allay those doubts I looked into each of the following:

  • The reliability of the Gospels
  • The historicity of the Bible
  • Authentication of the Biblical account, based on secular writings from the same time period.
  • Fine tuning of the universe (fine tuning is readily acknowledged by science, but, almost always, not attributed to God)
  • The relationship between creation (the instantaneous occurance of time, space, and matter), and the existing laws of physics.
  • The vast improbability that the living cell could have “self-organized” (abiogenesis).
  • Evidence to support the physical resurrection of Jesus Christ

With this insight, I found it easy to acknowledge a Creator God, and to accept the Bible (God’s Word) as my “absolute truth.” Faith follows naturally when dealing with that which we know to be true.

When God’s Word becomes our truth, then it is easy to establish rules for living a “God centered” life. Once we are God centered, the attributes of Christianity flow naturally from one’s life. One begins to see the Bible in its completeness, from creation (Genesis) all the way to the new heaven and the new earth (The Revelation). It is from that perspective that a Biblical worldview can emerge.

Why do I care that you hear about this?  I care because, as human beings, we are by our very nature, sinful.  We are, at birth, cut off from a Holy God. Yet, in each one of us there exists an eternal spiritual component. The very essence of Christianity is the process of ensuring that our spirit component is aligned with our Creator God and will exist with Him eternally. God, Himself, designed the process by which this transition is accomplished. He sent His Son (Jesus Christ) to die in our place, thus bearing the punishment for our sin.  All we must do to inherit God’s gift (of eternal spiritual life) is to believe that Jesus was fully God and fully man, and that He died in our place … that he paid the penalty for your sins and mine. Belief is, in its most basic form, simply a conversation between you and our Creator God. I have described this simple process in a webpage entitled Such as I Have, you can see it here.

It is a widely held belief that people will be somehow judged for the life they have lived. The Christian Bible confirms this is true.  Christians will be judged for their performance as believers, with a view to reward.  Non-believers will be judged quite differently.  They will stand before a God from which they are separated, and be reminded of the many times that they have rejected Him.  For the two groups, the outcome is quite different.  As a believer, one of my greatest concerns is for those who will stand judgement as non-Christians. That group of people are the greatest motivator for this website.  I would ask you to approach what I have written here with an open mind, and please … give Christianity a place in your life.

Connection …

Photo by Meg Hubler

I recently delivered a special needs cat to a friend in my hometown. As we unloaded kitty’s paraphernalia, I realized that I had forgotten his treats. The next morning, I proceeded directly to the local Walmart. Now, if you have not been in a Walmart “super store,” then I suggest that you visit one. On a hazy morning, I would anticipate difficulty in seeing from one side of the store to the other. Having no idea where I might find pet supplies, I approached an employee for assistance. She offered to guide me the considerable distance to the pet supplies, and I accepted. While she was not yet my age, the lady was comfortably over fifty. Thinking that I might be standing next to graduate of the local high school, from my high school, I asked her, “Are you from here?”  “No,” she replied, “I was raised in Grampian” (Grampian is a nearby village in the Pennsylvania highlands). I too had grown up near Grampian, a place that contributed heavily to my childhood memories. After making that known, I asked, “Do you remember Gus Chelgren, who ran the local meat market”? Yes, she did. “And Ward McDonald, the radio and TV repair man?” Yes again. We weaved our way from aisle to aisle, navigating diagonally across the store. “Who was the guy who cut hair in the shop with Ritt Wirts,” I asked? “Dick Flynn,” she shot back (I would view his gravestone inside the hour). “And what about my uncle Richard Thomas, who, for years, taught school in Grampian?” “I’ve heard of him,” she allowed, “but he was a bit before my time.” We soon arrived at pet supplies, I thanked her for her help, picked up some salmon treats, and headed for the front of the store. In the parking lot, I was surprised by a feeling that was almost foreign to me. I had just experienced connection. Home is that rare place where one can encounter a stranger and, in a matter of minutes, you become aware of your roots … the kind that do not grow in today’s mobile society. As I write this, I am back in the state of Maryland, in a place that I would normally identify as my home. I am now aware, however, that nothing exists here that contributed to my childhood memories … quite simply, to the making me. The people that I know here are transients. Like me, they have come from somewhere else; they have lived here and they have worked here, but they are not from here. We have shared days, months, and sometime years together, but our connection lacks some essential ingredient … perhaps it is that ingredient that makes a memory worthy of nostalgia. In today’s world, we move to where the jobs are, often to some unappealing place where our specialty just happens to be in short supply. Our mobility brings about a form of isolation … we find ourselves far from the soft soil of youth … where one easily develops deep roots.

Driving away, I experienced this conflict: Tomorrow, I would go home, to my wife, to my house, to my church and to my cats … but today … I was home … for real. My sincere thanks to the lady in Walmart, who just happened to be from Grampian …