Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Radio Spark & Rest in peace.....

  Recently we put to rest my older brother and to be honest there are a million confused and unfamiliar emotions surrounding the death of my brother and the end of a lifetime of on off and intermittent relationship there with. We hunted fished and trapped together, and spent countless hours in the woods. But one thing is certain he was responsible for my life long love of radio.
  I have always been labeled as a dreamer and my family would joke about how I spent all my time looking at books and catalogs and dreaming up these big projects that I would build or make if I could afford to. But I memorized every catalog I could get my hands on. Radio Shack Sears, Penny's and the big one Heatkit ....

  I have had the "Radio Bug"  since I was a young boy around 6-7 years old as I recall. Because I was born in 63 and we left our farm in 1970 when my parents divorced. Leaving me to be around 7 years old. And this occurred while we lived in the 3 story brick farm house. Near Lockbourne Ohio, which is just south of Columbus Ohio where I was born.
   My half brother would go and visit his real dad on weekends etc, And his real father Jack Lozier of lockbourne Ohio, was an avid camper. And Jack had gotten a CB radio for his camper at some point. And my brother Kim was 5 years older than me...

   Well upon my brothers returning from one of his visits he brought back a set of walkie talkies, then later he brought home one of those toy CB's. The ones that were basically a walkie talkie in a plastic housing to look like a real CB. (see pic below). And like the walkie talkies of the day they operated in AM mode on a frequency of 27.1250 mhz. (CB channel 14). They were crystal controlled and sometimes you could change the crystals and thereby change the frequency or channel. Some of them even operated on 27.1450mhz. this frequency fell half way between CB channels 15 and 16 and was allocated as an experimental frequency.


This add is actually from Radio Shack catalog of a similar era. The radio was basically the same design as the R.S. walkie talkies and was sold to be used with them. (Clever marketing for the time).


OK, On to catching the "Bug". My brother had this radio set up in our 3rd floor attic which we rarely went into due to us being told it was haunted by a previous owner who committed suicide by hanging in that attic. And I recall it being a spooky place as well. It was a finished attic that was mainly used for storage. He had the little radio set up near a window and also had the walkie talkies as well.  I remember he sent me down to the yard outside with one of the walkies, And as I recall I was looking up at that 3rd floor attic window (halfway expecting to see that ghost). I could see my brother in the window and also at the same time I heard his chattered raspy voice echoing from the walkie talkie in my hand. Well it was that very second when something in my mind went "CLICK" !
   It is one of my first known memories. And about the only one I have from that house. Other than the horrible fighting between my mother and father. And the few times the sheriff had come to separate them and prevent a shooting. But that is a whole other blog to write.
    At this same period my parents divorced and Kim went to live with his real father and step mother. So there were many years that I hardly ever seen my brother. Christmas or holidays maybe the rare visits when he would come stay with me my mother / sister and my new stepdad.( that too is another blog to be written)...
   Fast forward to 1974 or 1975, My brother had gone to live with my grandparents whom I spent every possible minute with. I stayed there all summer every summer, and anytime I could be there I was with my grandpa and grandma on the farm. So once again we were living at the same place and were together a lot.
 Looking back I realize that Grandmas was my safe place. because I knew my grandma would walk through hell on Sunday before anything or anyone would hurt little Matthew. I had seen my dad try to shoot my mother, seen her beaten to within an inch of her life.  Seen my stepfather go to prison for life, Witnessed things no adult should witness out alone a young confused boy..

   During this time Kim was old enough to work and drive and he was heavily into the CB radio craze (as was most of the country!) It was the internet of it's day. I helped put up so many CB antennas, towers etc that it was just a weekend activity to stand a 60' tower with a 6 element moon-raker one weekend. Tear it down and put up something else the next weekend. As bad as I wanted a CB of my own my mom was dead set against it. The internet of it's day also had it's predators the same as the internet today. And she thought it was something evil I guess, but it contributed to one more thing my brother could have or do that I could not !
   Well as is inevitable Kim eventually had a girlfriend and she really took a liking to me, remember I was still only 11-12 years old. She took me everywhere with her, bought me clothes and things because new clothes were very rare in those days and much needed for me. Anyway one year for Christmas she and Kim bought me a walkie talkie. Not just any walkie talkie either. But a "Two Channel" one that I could change or add crystals to get any CB channels I wanted. And would output 100 milli-watts.
  And I wanted worse than anything to have channel 1. Why ? Because Kim was a channel 1 CB'er and there was a whole family of those guys that were always around and it was like an exclusive club of some kind. So I saved me some money and sometimes I would go with him to Radio Shack, A young dreamers paradise. And eventually somehow I got the required crystals and installed them in my channel 2. Of course one channel was furnished with the old standard channel 14 like all walkie talkies of the time.  I carried that thing everywhere and talked to anyone I could, eventually talking my childhood friend Mike into getting his parents to buy him one like mine. Mike had the advantage of his family being much better off than we were and he could get about anything it seemed..                                                                   
                                                                Isn't she a beauty !!
Well after a time my mother decided to move to another part of the state, down on the Ohio river for reasons not to be mentioned here. So once again I didn't see my brother for several years other than an occasional visit to grandmas at the same time. So I once again tried to adjust to a whole new life in a strange and crazy place. And eventually I married (Very Young!) and have made it for 54 years, and somehow ended up living in North Carolina. He (Kim) and I both eventually became HAM radio operators and have enjoyed many years of radio and electronics. And it lead me into a career as an engineer, and I am still looking at catalogs and dreaming of those giant projects...Only difference is now I build things with someone else's money ....

I have as usual drifted way off the original subject here but I wanted mainly to share where my love of radio had originated. It is strange the way our minds work isn't it ? I mean of all the things that happened during my young life, this memory is etched in my mind....

To my brother I say Rest In Peace and send me a QSL from wherever you are now......

"73" N8ZW  de N8QZH

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Sometimes you must Roll Your Own.....

I wanted to say a few words here about creating tools. And how the right tool can take different forms.
    Being around a farm you will quickly learn that whatever tool or piece of equipment you need. It is on the other side of the farm. And before you can use it you will have to fix it.
  Because whomever used it last got just enough done with it that when it broke he could say something like "well I'll just have to let it go because there are three other jobs waiting to be done"....that's farming !
However there is no better training ground for a machanical mind than the farm. And very often you find that you require a special tool that of course you don't have. One becauae you cannot afford an expensive single use tool. And two there isn't anywhere to get one anyway. Yea you could spend all afternoon hunting for one to order but you dont have two or three weeks to wait. Heck you don't have two hours...

So many times in my life I have been in a position of not having the right tool or as is often the case the time. And being in a position where "It Has To Happen" no matter what. And many times during my time as a field engineer for a machine manufacturer I often found that I could rely on those instincts and resourses I learned back on that farm as a boy.  I would live with my head in the books and catalogs I had saved and collected in the way kids now live on the internet or even worse, video games.
And of course I had no idea that what I was really doing was learning a very important part of any engineers job. Reasearch, the absulutely vital componant to an engineers toolkit is his ability to quickly locate something he seen in a catalog or a manual or maybe an add he seen somewhere. And it Can often make the difference between success and failure.
  Without knowing it,  I had developed an unusual ability for recalling where I had seen a particular piece in a catalog. Or where i read a particular function in a manual etc.
  Who would have thought a boy seemingly obsessed with Sears & Roebuck or J.C. Penney catalogs. Was in reality just creating one more tool for his collection......
As I said in the beginning you can do anything ! But you have to have the right tool. And "The Right Tool" can take many shapes and forms. In some cases that tool may be a book or manual or even an education. And quite often that tool will be simply knowing where to find the information you require. Or maybe just knowing who to ask a question..

Thank You Again Grandpa. I miss you still today.....
 

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

"The Right Tool" Lesson One at Grandpa's

My dad was a tool and die maker his entire life. My grandfather on dads side was a mechanical engineer and my great grandfather was a Blacksmith. So as you can imagine tools have played a very important role in my family.
As a young boy of maybe 12 yrs old, Instead of playing games and collecting ball cards (or whatever). I had collected a quite respectable outfit of tools. I would take them out and look at them clean them and sometimes take a picture of them. I was proud of my collection even if it were a little unusual.
I spent my summers (and anytime I could get there) at my grandpa's (on mothers side). He was my father for all practical sense. My grandpa worked from daylight until dark every day of his life. He never knew what a vacation was or a day off, He only knew work right up until he died doing exactly that...
My Grandfather lived on an old farm because he what was known as a tenant farmer. He worked for the farm and they provided him with a house and small farm to live on. Well there was an old truck that set in a pasture field on that farm, Long abandoned with weeds growing up thru the floorboards. It must have been a mid 50's Chevy flatbed. I carried my toolbox everywhere and as I spent my summers at grandpa's I would certainly have my tools with me. Anyway, about that old truck I never gave it a second thought when I carried my toolbox down thru the pasture, Thru the cow patty's and weeds. I was Fixing to learn about that motor in the old truck. And learn I did, In more ways than one......
I began taking that motor apart, I remember it because I would learn later that it was known as a Stove bolt 6. A Six cylinder chevy motor that had a rep for being dang near indestructible. Well until it met me anyway.
As I removed the top valve cover I still remember that sweet smell of old dirty burnt oil and the sight of all the rocker arms mounted on a rocker shaft. As I would remove something I would look in my old "Auto Repair Manual"( a story in itself, But for later!), And try to determine just what the part was I had just removed. I was like a pig in a fresh pile of Shit, Grease up to my eyeballs and smelling like something the cat dragged in and the dog wouldn't touch. But I was just as happy as the other kids my age who were off on vacations to the beach or fun parks or whatever. Well I eventually had this motor down to the block. I had removed everything and spent more than a day doing it. I even managed to somehow haul the cylinder head up the hill thru the field and into the barn. That time was a great learning experience and I remember it well even though it has been nearly 40 years ago, As I was no more than 12 or 13 yrs old. And my beloved Grandpa has long since been gone. I think there is a housing development setting where that field was then.
I carried that cylinder head home eventually and when I wanted to take the head apart I realized I needed "The Right Tool" . And since I had pretty mush memorized the sears catalog I knew I needed a Valve Spring Compressor ! So Dig out the old Catalog and WOW there it was. A Giant C-clamp looking tool that was used to squeeze the springs down and allow the little locks to be removed. But I could never afford anything like that. But I could look at it and drool because it was an Awesome tool that done a very special job, And to me that was Beauty in it's most explicit form. Well I never got one but I did figure out that you could place the right size socket over the spring and hit it with a hammer and pop the spring locks out and get the valves out. This works great for removal, But leaves me with no way to put it back together ! Because I did not have "The Right Tool" !!!
Well time passed as time does, And sometime much later My Grandpa's came up told me that His Boss, The farms owner had been asking him if he had any idea who may have destroyed that old truck. Said someone took the entire damn thing apart and now it was pretty much worthless. The Old Farm boss was Pissed ! As it turned out that old truck was a valuable piece of history and the motor that I had totally disassembled was actually a good motor, Emphasis on WAS !
Well I just stood there as Grandpa explained the situation to me, That he was probably gonna have to pay the guy some money for the truck. And my Grandpa never had two dimes to rub together in his life. Now keep in mind that Grandpa knew full well that It was me who had took the thing apart. As I looked at him and dropped my head because I thought he was truly disappointed in me which was a tragedy in my eyes. My Grandpa being the kind and gentle man that he was and had always known of my love of tools and workings, He just smiled a crooked little smile and said Well I told the boss that we didn't know anything about that, And we will just keep this between ourselves..
And so Grandpa encouraged my learning and trust me the old truck was not the last thing to be Sacrificed in the name of learning about "The Right Tool"
...