Wayne,

As I constantly tell myself, never to late or too old to learn.  Your stories 
tells a lot.  I am encouraged to use CW more.... 

72 & 73,
Bill
K9YEQ
FT'er for K2, KX1, KX3, KXPA100,  KAT500, W2, etc. 

-----Original Message-----
From: elecraft-boun...@mailman.qth.net <elecraft-boun...@mailman.qth.net> On 
Behalf Of Wayne Burdick
Sent: Sunday, July 12, 2020 1:50 PM
To: John <ve7...@telus.net>
Cc: Elecraft Reflector <elecraft@mailman.qth.net>
Subject: Re: [Elecraft] "On second thought, I'll take the stairs."

Hi John,

Thanks for bringing Carl and Jerry to my attention. I'd never heard of until 
now (born too late, apparently). Here's a fascinating article about these 
fictional characters, from Popular Science, circa 1960:

   http://www.copperwood.com/carlandjerry.htm

73,
Wayne
N6KR


> On Jul 12, 2020, at 8:56 AM, John <ve7...@telus.net> wrote:
> 
> Thanks Wayne.
> 
> Reminded me of Carl and Jerry.
> 
> 73.
> 
> John.
> 
> ve7day.
> 
> 
> On 12/07/2020 8:07 a.m., Wayne Burdick wrote:
>> I have a friend about my age who got into amateur radio only a few years 
>> ago. Like many of us, he was enthusiastic about the technology. Intrigued 
>> with DX.
>> 
>> I showed him my station; we talked endlessly about gear. Later, I helped him 
>> put up a simple wire antenna.
>> 
>> Then, when his license arrived, he dove straight into FT8 and didn't look 
>> back. Within days, he'd worked all states, then DXCC. He'd bag a few rare 
>> ones over a light lunch, then pat his laptop on the back and congratulate 
>> his software app for its near-mythical ability to extract weak signals out 
>> of noise.
>> 
>> Within weeks, he'd mastered everything there was to know about this glorious 
>> new hobby.
>> 
>> Point. Click.
>> 
>> In this new world order, those of us who took the longer, slower path to 
>> ionospheric enlightenment -- and who still occasionally enjoy making waves 
>> by hand -- often fail to explain why.
>> 
>> I had failed to explain it to my friend. Even as hints of his boredom crept 
>> in, creating an opening, the best argument I'd made for trying CW was that 
>> he could do it without a computer. Coming in a weak second was the notion 
>> that CW was the original digital mode. For obvious reasons, I didn't bother 
>> with the classic argument about CW's signal-to-noise advantage over SSB.
>> 
>> I had all but given up.
>> 
>> Then, in a moment of delayed clarity, I decided on a different approach. I 
>> invited him to a weekday brunch. A bit of an escape. He willingly took the 
>> bait.
>> 
>> On the appointed day, arriving at his workplace, I bypassed the lobby's 
>> glistening elevators and climbed the four flights of stairs to his office. I 
>> insisted we take the stairs down, too.
>> 
>> "Why?" he asked. "And how'd you get up here so fast?"
>> 
>> I pointed out that I always chose stairs, when possible. That's why I wasn't 
>> out of breath. We hustled down, jockeying for position, and emerged on the 
>> ground floor invigorated by the effort.
>> 
>> "So, where are we going?" he asked. We'd been to every overrated 
>> twenty-dollar burger venue at least twice.
>> 
>> I replied that we'd be going someplace we'd never tried. My kitchen.
>> 
>> When we arrived, I put him to work chopping onions and broccoli and 
>> squeezing oranges while I whipped eggs into a froth and grated Swiss cheese. 
>> We ate our omelettes outside, in full sun and a cool breeze.
>> 
>> "What's for desert?" he asked. "Isn't there a frozen yogurt place a 
>> two-minute drive from here?"
>> 
>> I had something else in mind. Back in the kitchen, I handed him a water 
>> bottle, then strapped on a small pack I'd prepared earlier.
>> 
>> We walked a mile or so through my neighborhood, admiring the houses' varied 
>> architecture, ending up (as planned) at a local park festooned with 
>> blackberry bushes. The most accessible branches had been picked clean, but 
>> with teamwork and persistence we were able to gather several large handfuls 
>> of fat, ripe berries, which we devoured on the spot.
>> 
>> We'd been poked and scratched but didn't care.
>> 
>> "Doesn't brunch usually end with champagne?" he wondered aloud, admiring his 
>> wounds.
>> 
>> Not this time. I pulled out two bottles of craft beer that I'd obtained from 
>> a neighbor in trade for repairing his ancient home stereo. Carlos had spent 
>> years crafting an American pilsner to die for, sweating every detail, 
>> including iconic, hand-painted labels.
>> 
>> My friend accepted the bottle, then tried in vain to remove the cap. Not a 
>> twist-off.
>> 
>> "Opener?" he said.
>> 
>> I handed him a small pocket knife, an antique without specialty blades. He 
>> soon discovered it could not be used to remove the cap directly. He looked 
>> at me with a bemused expression, no doubt wondering what I had up my sleeve 
>> this time.
>> 
>> I pointed out that we were surrounded by white oaks, a species known for its 
>> hard wood. He got the message, smiled, and began hunting. Within seconds 
>> he'd collected a small fallen branch. I watched as he used the knife to 
>> fashion a few inches of it into a passable bottle opener. We popped the 
>> caps, toasted his new-found skill, and traded stories of our misspent youths.
>> 
>> "Oh, one more thing," I said.
>> 
>> I pulled a KX2 out of my pack, along with two lengths of wire. Of course he 
>> knew everything there was to know about Elecraft, and me, so he wasn't 
>> surprised when I also pulled out the rig's attachable keyer paddle. We threw 
>> one wire in the closest tree and laid the other on the ground.
>> 
>> He didn't have to ask whether I'd brought a laptop.
>> 
>> We listened to CW signals up and down 20 meters, which was open to Europe at 
>> the time. As he tuned in each station, I copied for him using pencil and 
>> paper. He'd learned Morse code, but only at very slow speeds.
>> 
>> After making a contact, I set the internal keyer speed to 10 words per 
>> minute and dialed power output to zero, for practice purposes, then showed 
>> him how to use the paddle. He smiled as he got the hang of it. Sending the 
>> full alphabet was a challenge, but he got there. The KX2 decoded and 
>> displayed his keying, providing confirmation.
>> 
>> We'd blown through his allotted lunch break by a factor of three, so it was 
>> time to go. We coiled up the antenna wires, packed up, and walked back. As I 
>> drove him back to his employer, we made plans to get together again for a 
>> weekend hike.
>> 
>> I could have just dropped him off, but we went back into the lobby together. 
>> Out of habit, he stopped in front of the elevator. Then he looked up.
>> 
>> "OK," he said. "I get it. This CW thing. It's slow, it's hard to do well, 
>> and it takes years of practice."
>> 
>> "Like hunting for your own food, or carving your own tools," I added.
>> 
>> "Or cooking from scratch. Or brewing your own beer. Building your own radio. 
>> And you use more of your senses. Not just your eyes, but your ears. Your 
>> sense of touch."
>> 
>> I nodded. Listening. Feeling. That was the radio I'd grown up with.
>> 
>> "Of course it's harder to work DX with CW than with FT8," I reminded him, 
>> playing devil's advocate.
>> 
>> "Is that what matters, though?" he asked.
>> 
>> A longer discussion for another day.
>> 
>> "Your call," I said.
>> 
>> He gripped my shoulder and smiled, then reached toward the elevator's 
>> glowing, ivory colored button, framed by polished brass.
>> 
>> The path most taken.
>> 
>> Point. Click.
>> 
>> "On second thought," he said, "I'll take the stairs."
>> 
>> * * *
>> 
>> Wayne,
>> N6KR
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
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