Geezers and Young Ladies

I got referred to on the air on Monday night as a “young lady,” something I haven’t been called for years, and probably only ever by my father. But it’s standard radiospeak for “woman ham,” even if the woman in question is 95. Strange and patronizing, though not altogether unpleasant — like learning morse code, it just feels jolly retro.

We attended a meeting last night of the local ham group. I was, as usual, the only woman there. They were kind and argued about this antenna and that battery and why something wasn’t working (all total gobbledegook) and I felt acutely self-consciously alien. (This is a good thing: not a problem to be reminded that this is an experience most African Americans, say, have not just in meetings, but ALL THE TIME, here in Davis. Damn but it must wear you down. Oh. Then try doing calculus…)

There’s a certain sense in radio gatherings — many of these guys are gray, some of them hams from the 30s — that I’m hanging out with clones my grandfathers. One, in particular, is 85; got his license as a teenager in 1938, went to Berkeley. Like other hams in those days, all Tom’s equipment was stuff he had made himself, flinging wires out from the second-floor of his boarding house for antennas.

Also like other hams in those days, and still today, Tom sent out cards to those with whom he made contact, listing the time, frequency, his call sign, report of signal strength and clarity — a QSL card. These cards are often a wonder (more often, a curiosity) of graphic design and in aggregate they can tell a ham’s life story. (One such story was the basis for Danny Gregory’s Hello World.) Tom had never kept any of these first cards, but one showed up in a box of QSL cards that were heading for the dumpster from an estate sale when they were rescued by Rob, who recognized Tom’s call sign. Tom and his card were reunited.

More stories from Alien Radio Planet will follow, I’m sure…