My first QSO. With apologies to the Brits.

The rig had arrived the day earlier and I had gone through it like a kid with a new toy.

I checked everything out and went carefully through the manual and set everything up. I installed the generator which I had snagged somewhere else along the line, and hooked up the necessary ancilleries.

Having planned on trying it out that night, I was disappointed a bit to find my schedule was jammed up pretty good and by the time I had gotten everything done it was really a little too late, but I went to bed knowing the following evening was free.

During the following day I had a bright idea that made me grin. I decided that seeing it was a British rig, I ought to do it up right and dress the part. Never mind that most Brits don't dress or act like I was going to, nosiree. As many Hollywood types have said before, "Let's not let the facts get in the way of a good movie!"

Hollywood time!

As the sun went down I got dressed and set up the rig. I was dressed for the occasion in a pith hemet, khaki safari jacket, matching shorts and knee socks standing by my rig holding a glass of quinine water with a slice of lime in it. To top it off, there was a Webley MkIV strapped to my hip.

Ramar of the Jungle!

Ok, Ok, so I really needed a pencil thin moustache to be Ramar of the Jungle, but close enough.

My neighbor saw me setting the rig up and wandered over.

"Ah, Francisco," I said. "Perhaps you could send me over a native boy to turn the generator?"

My neighbor, Frank, smirked. I seldom address him as Francisco unless I am either up to mischief or being sarcastic or theatrical. He picked up on it at once, wandered back home and returned with his son.

The boy was wearing one of his dad's khaki shirts, and around his waist was a towel. The shirt was so big on him that the tails stuck out below the towel wrapped around his waist. As he approached, I saw there was a chicken bone taped to his upper lip.

"The bone is a nice touch," I said. "Costuming is excellent."

They both grinned and the father said, "You don't think I was going to ram the bone through his nose for this, do you?"

"Certainly not," I replied, in a hokey David Niven voice. "He looks good enough as it is. Besides, it would clash with his red hair and freckles."

I showed the boy how to crank the generator and explained to him to stop when I told him to.

"If I get an Academy Award for this, I'll drag you along as Best Supporting Actor," I said to the kid.

"Mr. Piccolo, sometimes you're a nut," said the kid.

All three of us laughed.

Just then my cell phone went off. It was Neighbor Bob, and his timing could not have been more perfect. The ringtone I have on the phone for when he calls is the Tarzan yell. All three of us howled with laughter. Frank and I instinctively started looking around for the elephant herd to come charging through the neighborhood. We both grew up on Tarzan movies.

I fired up the rig and went on 40 meters and tuned the antenna. Then I put on the headset and started calling on empty frequencies, "CQ, CQ, CQ," I said, following it with my callsign.

No answer. Between tries the kid spun the crank. After a while I saw him grow a little tired.

"Cut!" I said. After all, I'm the one directing this little make-believe movie. Then I spun the crank for a while. The kid deserved a rest. I did, however, call him a barmey little savage in my David Niven voice. He looked up at me with somewhat of a hurt look. I grinned at him.

"It's in the script," I said. "The Great White hunter always abuses the natives."

"Why is that?" asked the kid.

"Because it makes him look like a bigger jerk," I replied, and the kid looked relieved.

"Unless, of course, he is Ramar of the Jungle," I added. "He's always a good guy and treats the natives well."

"Why him?"

"He's the hero of the show, and besides he has one important thing; He has a pencil thin moustache."

Frank snickered at the look on the boy's face.

"The Boston Blackie kind?" Frank asked.

"You got it", I replied.

"Who was Boston Blackie, anyway? I just heard of him in the Jimmy Buffett song." asked Frank, making me feel as old as I am.

"A black and white TV era detective," I answered. Suddenly I felt ancient.

Finally after a few tries on 40 meters I heard voices and realized I was on some sort of a net. I waited for my turn and when it came I checked in with my call sign and got his. I explained that this was my first QSO to the other ham and he sounded delighted to hear it.

He told me he was in Leesburg, Virginia, over 200 miles away!

I fished a pen out of my safari jacket pocket and scribbed down his callsign, the frequency, time and a little other data and signed off the net.

Then I shut the rig down, picked it up and brought it inside. I don't believe in pushing my luck.
I also put the Webley back where it belonged. Firearms and gin do not mix well.

When I came out I had two gin and tonics and a coke. I handed the boy the coke and the drink to his dad. We sat and I have to admit I savored the moment.

Then I looked at the boy. "You can take that barmey bone out of your nose now," I said in my David Niven voice.

The kid untaped the bone and threw it across the garage and it went straight into the trash can. It was a pretty good shot.

"Thanks, Mr. Pic, it was getting kind of itchy," he replied.

I looked at Frank, "Whaddya think? The boy deserve a Best Supporting Actor award?"

Frank looked thoughtfully, "He did well," he said.

"Maybe sometime I'll teach you to make a crystal set radio out of a razor blade, a safety pin and some wire," I said to the kid.

"He can do that, Dad?" the kid asked his father.

"He sure can," answered his father. "He did it a while back and I heard it. It's pretty neat"

It was a fun night in the Piccolo residence driveway that night and some day soon I'll make a foxhole radio for the kid. There is nothing in the world more satisfying than seeing the look on a kid's face when you see the look on a kid's face the first time he hears something on a crystal set.

Then again, maybe the boy got just as much of a thrill seeing the look on MY face when I made contact with Leesburg.




my other blog is: http://officerpiccolo.blogspot.com/ http://piccolosbutler.blogspot.com/