Poetic HHI Net Proclamation
by Duane Fischer, W8DBF
I turn the knob, I hear the click,
It comes to life as filaments flicker.
A quiet hum, high voltage kick,
It says Hallicrafters on the sticker.
I hear some static, the tubes glow warm,
With fingers curious, main tune I spin.
A coil I fixed on broken form,
Gently aligned the I.F. cans within.
The speaker sighs as voices rise,
I move the bandspread knob with smoothness slow.
A voice is heard cross distant skies,
I trim the antenna from high to low.
I narrow the band and splatter dies,
As foreign short-wave signals fill the room.
The music rises and then it sighs,
Ancient instruments from a Faro's tomb.
I listen close for signals faint,
I smell the heat from diodes deep in glass.
Its age it shows with wrinkled paint,
No noise the crystal filter allows to pass.
The distant drums, the chanting voice,
Reach up to touch the ionosphere high.
It draws you in, there is no choice,
The id comes just as the signal dies.
The minutes fly, the hours pass,
Then from the churning sea comes codes of Morse.
The pointer jerks, eyes search the glass,
A Hawaiian beacon, you've found the source!
With trembling hand and empty mug,
You rise to answer your bladders urgent cries.
You have been hooked, you've got the bug,
Hallicrafters lives, it shall never die.
This page last updated 05 Jan 2005.