So I’m working away and I call a CQ—which means I’ll talk to anyone I can get. My mother comes in. She did it every time I was on. She had the radio going on the refrigerator and she could hear the beeps coming in there. She had this cheap radio called a Knight, and it had this knight with a silver visor and all that stuff. She comes in and says, “Would you please, you’re making that beeping sound and I’m trying to hear Bing Crosby.” As she goes back in the kitchen again she says “Be careful now!”
“Aw, comeon, will ya, ma. For crying out loud.” Typical smart kid. I thought I knew everything. I did. I knew everything. I could send and receive CW at about twenty-five words a minute at the time, I built a class C final, and here I am, I’m using a cell 6L6 buffer doubler, and I’m driving a dipole on 20. You know, I mean, this is no ordinary kid. No kid ever considers himself an ordinary kid anyway.
I’m on the air with my CW and I had a beautiful style, what they call a “Lake Erie Swing.” I stand by and sure enough, right on my frequency a guy comes back. He’s calling me, and he signs his call. He is in Denver. So I come back to him. I give him his report.
I notice a few drops of rain coming down right outside my open window—it’s wide open because it’s warm with all of my equipment going on, and I have feeders that go right out the window and right up to the roof. I can see it’s real nice, a great day, just beautiful. So I come back, I’m giving him 579X, his report, and I just tell him my name and as I raise my finger from the key, a gigantic blue flash! BOOOOOOM!
What if ARTSY FARTSY were more than just some non-Shep stuff
added to the bottom of some shepquest posts?
What if they were all short chapters of what I hope would be
a published book (if I can find an agent/publisher)?
What would the beginning of such a manuscript be like?
in a world of art that matters
E u g e n e B. B e r g m a n n
(not an artist)
To all the many art lovers of the world who have something
unexpected and worthwhile to say regarding their passion.
“Artsy-fartsy individuals tend to be unemployed and enjoy finger-painting.”
“Something supposedly highly cultural,
but to the regular sane person merely pretentious.”
–Artsy Fartsy definitions found on the Internet
[Introduction, part 1]
Adventures in Artsy-Fartsy-dom
My Artsy Fartsy comments are not intended just to describe the art and other scattered matters I like. Most anyone could do that about their own interests. My intent is to describe the quirky nature of someone (yours truly) involved with art and related creations in unusual and informative contexts that surprise and delight (me). I neither seek out these artsy matters, nor expect them. I just try to keep my eyes and mind open so that I might recognize and react to unexpected and tangential relationships with the arts I love. Sometimes these encounters result from: a special attitude regarding collecting; comparisons and contrasts; other experiences that whack me on the side of the head and demand attention. For me, these very short encounters add up to a worthwhile miscellany, a cluster of mini artsy interactions.
In John Aubrey: My Own Life, its author Ruth Scurr quotes Aubrey, author of Brief Lives, regarding his life as a collector: “I have the strangest luck in it: things just seem to drop into my mouth, as though I were a baby bird.” I suggest that, rather than objects of interest accidentally falling into his mouth, he, like me with my artsy fartsy experiences, kept his eyes and mind open regarding his wide-ranging interests—he was active, an intellectual seeker, and had a penchant for enjoying sometimes more-than-accidental happenstances.
Do these artsy fartsys matter much? I believe my modus operandi encourages a way for approaching and appreciating art as well as life in general, and I hope others will find my artsy fartsys quirky, entertaining, and enlightening.
[More Artsy Fartsy book intro to come.]