ROTA-Radio

The Move to Paradise (and the Shift in Perspective)

We ended the last chapter with my station sitting patiently in a closet. In 2016, Sue and I decided to position ourselves for retirement by moving across the Caloosahatchee River to a manufactured home community in North Fort Myers. It was a well-manicured paradise—five pools, golf courses, and no more yard work for Grandpa.

I moved my shack from a closet into a dedicated “LaundeRadio” room. I had a contractor build a dedicated antenna pass-through, set up my Echolink nodes, and enjoyed “Golf Cart Mobile” operations. Those sunset rides, chatting with friends in Deltona while cruising the fairways, were my “radio therapy.” It was a shot in the arm of nature and hobby that fueled me for the work at home.

“Life Happens While You’re Making Other Plans”

In 2017, just days before Hurricane Irma, life changed on a dime. A fall at school began a decade-long series of medical and mobility challenges for Sue. Over the next nine years, through surgeries, rehabs, and eventually a below-knee amputation, our “retirement” transformed into a journey of caregiving and adaptation.

I retired from teaching in 2020, a transition that allowed my role as Sue’s caregiver to become my primary mission. We “right-sized” once more to Lake Arrowhead, finding a community where we owned the land beneath us. But as Sue’s mobility became more restricted, our living room—affectionately known as the hospital room—became the hub of our home.

From “The Radio Van” to CERT Leadership

During this decade, I also operated a second shack: The Radio Van (RV). A 21-foot Winnebago that was a rolling metal miracle. When Hurricane Ian took out our power for two weeks, that RV became our life-support system. It had enough power to keep the grandkids’ fridge running and the van’s A/C humming during the sweltering Florida afternoons.

That experience turned my hobby toward EMCOMM (Emergency Communications). I joined our local CERT (Community Emergency Response Team), eventually helping lead communications and neighborhood GMRS nets. My “antenna farm” evolved too—now a stealthy, efficient 35-foot DX Engineering mast that supports 80-10 meters and a J-Pole, all while staying low-profile enough for the neighborhood.

ROTA: Recliners on the Air

Eventually, the reality of Sue’s needs meant that traveling in the RV was no longer feasible. Selling the van to fund a wheelchair-equipped minivan was a move made out of necessity, but also out of love. I realized that my “mobile shack” didn’t need to be in a van; it needed to be where the action was.

That is the origin of ROTA: Recliners on the Air. Today, my station is a marvel of modern networking. I sit in my recliner in the middle of the living room—the same room where Sue rests, the grandkids play, and our life happens. My fingers fly across the laptop keyboard, sending digital signals via my local network to the Icom transceiver out in the shed.

Whether it’s Winlink, VarAC, or JS8Call, these digital modes allow me to be a “Silent Operator.” I can participate in a net or hunt for DX while Sue naps or shops on her iPhone next to me. I am a caregiver first, but through the magic of RF, my mind can still travel thousands of miles while my feet stay firmly planted on the footrest.

The Rest of the Story

As we approach our 49th wedding anniversary this summer, I’m reminded that ham radio has never just been about the gear. It’s been the “virtual wire” that kept me connected when the world felt small.

If you see me on the air (check PSKReporter!), give me a shout. If I disappear mid-sentence, just stand by—I’m likely tending to Sue. But I’ll be back. Because as every ham knows, the best part of the hobby isn’t the transmission; it’s the connection on the other end.

73 – dit dit