There were two things I could always talk to my Uncle Joe about: ham radio and journalism.
Not long after I received the unexpected news this week that Uncle Joe had died from a likely blood clot, the iFarmer reminded me that following 9/11 I told him that if the US came under full attack, it would be ham radio operators like Joe, assisting the military, who would keep communication alive and well.
Indeed, he was licensed “amateur” radio operator for an unbelievable 50 years and was in the middle of an unprecedented 6th term as Amateur Radio Relay League’s Ohio Section Manager (K8QOE). I put amateur in quotes, because there’s really nothing amateur about ham radio.
I remember when I was a kid, the thing that stuck with me most was that my geeky uncles could actually listen in as Russian cosmonauts orbited the earth. I thought they were the coolest.
Uncle Joe always wanted to hear about what I was up to in journalism and talk about the biz. He’d been a reporter for local papers in Ohio and Indiana before he had to, like so many of my brethren, give up reporting in order to make a better living to support his growing family.
Uncle Joe spent nearly 30 years as an English teacher and pursued his interest in the theater. You’ll have to ask me later about the one cast party I attended.
It’s not that he walked away entirely from journalism. Once it’s in your blood, it’s really a hard habit to quit. For seven years he wrote a weekly column for the Cincinnati Enquirer called “Ham Call” and hosted a cable program with the same name.
He even gave politics a try. I have his campaign literature around here somewhere.
One of my favorite memories of Uncle Joe was my wedding day. Awkward as he was around family, he really wanted to contribute to my big day. An avid photographer, he offered to help with photos or video. He got the video assignment.
He set up two cameras, one unobtrusive at the back of the sanctuary and one that could be more mobile for candids. The second turned out to be more mobile than I expected. During our vows, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was edging in for a closer shot. He walked right up behind me, behind the alter. So there we were, at the alter – me, the iFarmer, my pastor and my Uncle Joe. Brilliant.
(Think I exaggerate? See photo. Can’t miss him. He’s the white-haired guy behind the camera heading in for a closeup.)
A true reporter, he recorded every word of our vows, down to the expressions on our faces. He got the scoop.
My family laid him to rest today. Goodbye Uncle Joe.
Photo up top is from an obituary from an ARRL news update.
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