The Transitional Years: From Teenager to “Family Man”
If the 1970s were about getting my foot in the door of amateur radio, the 80s were the decade where I moved in and set up shop. I entered this second decade as a “ham at heart”—unlicensed, but fueled by the memories of 75 watts and a J-38 straight key.
As I moved into my early twenties, I was navigating a massive “balancing act.” I was transitioning from being part of a married couple to a family of three with the birth of our son in 1979. I was pivoting careers—working assembly lines, doing shift work, and eventually spending 14 months at Piper Aircraft.
At Piper, I experienced a two-act education in craftsmanship. I started as a literal “Rosey the Riveter,” spending my days riveting baggage doors and vertical stabilizers. There’s a specific rhythm to riveting—one man on the rivet gun, the other holding the “buck bar,” then trading places to keep the work moving. It was loud, physical, and precise.
After a seven-month stint of grueling rotating shiftwork in the phosphate mines, I returned to Piper for my “Second Act”: the Avionics Department. That was where the heavy riveting gave way to the delicate art of crafting wiring harnesses. I became an expert at the physical craft of soldering. I could make a joint look like a work of art, even if the “why” of the circuit was still a mystery. I had the hands of a technician, even though I was still building the mind of a theorist.
The Affirmation: The Yaesu FT-101EE
I arrived in Lakeland as a “beard-wearing dreamer” with no money and no equipment. My father-in-law, Joe, saw that hunger. Joe was a Navy man—a “Code Guy” from WWII who passed encrypted messages from a radio van in New Guinea using a bug and a manual typewriter.
Joe wasn’t a ham, but he understood the language of the airwaves. He gifted me his Yaesu FT-101EE. It was more than a radio; it was an affirmation. It was his way of accepting me into the family and nudging me toward the man I was becoming. That radio became the symbolic bond between us—from the days of “pounding brass” to the years later when I helped him navigate his “swear machine” (his first computer) so he could listen to Big Band MP3s. His love of music is another thing we shared.
That FT-101EE didn’t just sit on a desk; it carried me through my General and Advanced exams. It traveled with me from Lakeland to Deltona, and decades later, it was the very thing that sat on a garage shelf in Fort Myers and “sniffed out” my neighbor Doug, also a ham, sparking a friendship that lasts to this day.
The Gateway: The Clegg FM-27B
While the Yaesu was my HF anchor, a gifted Clegg FM-27B became my foray into the world of VHF FM. This radio introduced me to the “Elmers” (mentors) of Lakeland.
I remember a specific moment in Deltona when the Clegg gave up. A brother ham from my church offered to help. As I watched him work, I realized he was a theory genius with terrible soldering form! He had the “junk box” parts to fix the rig, but I was the one cringing at his cold solder joints. It was the perfect ham radio trade: his brains, my hands.
The “Wire” Reality
Through all this technical growth, I was learning the hardest lesson of all: Balance. My wife, Sue, famously told me during this period: “I would get more attention from you if I was a wire!” It was a “school of hard knocks” reminder that while the ionosphere was fascinating, the people in my own living room were the most important connection of all. The 80s taught me that a radio is a tool for connection—not just to the world, but to the family and friends who keep your feet on the ground while your antennas poke into the sky.
Next Week: Join me for Part 2, where we move to the Space Coast, monitor Shuttle launches from the front yard, and dive headfirst into the digital frontier of VHF Packet radio.
73 – dit dit
ROTA-Radio 
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