533 listed followers.
Now there are about 16 regulars.
Happy to know you’re still there.
It’s interesting, out of that 16 only 7 actively write their own posts.
There’s nothing wrong with that, as that comms guy keeps on saying
“Listening is more important than transmitting”.
I suppose I was the same at one point, now I’m just a gobby key tapper.
Now here’s an interesting one, 9 are ex-forces plus 2 oath takers.
Which if my maths works right leaves me an intellectual, who’s deep meaningful thoughts and insights scare the sh’t out of me at times.
(High school education, long words still scare me).
Plus others from various life styles. Mostly Authors curiously enough.
You know I’m kinda happy with those numbers.
16 sits well with me.
Anyone know what a QSL card is?
It’s radio amateur talk (Hams) for a postcard type of receipt of contact.
During CB days, now free-banding, I had quite a collection.
700 odd cards from all kinds of places.
There again I would, seeing as though I traveled a lot.
Only that was it.
A postcard sent to a forwarding address, occasionally a distant voice on 11 meters acknowledging receipt but that was about the top wack result.
So after years of carrying the cards, I went proactive. Big mistake.
The Hams have an expression for when someone dies.
They have gone “silent key”. I kinda think that’s nice.
They also have a register of silent keys.
So I had a peruse.
Old call signs still imprinted in the head sort of thing.
It took 15 minutes before I quit.
Was that all their life was, a database memory?
QSL cards went into the bin. Never again.
Now I’ve been key tapping on WordPress for coming up for 5 years now.
Before that on blogger although I did rename my scribbles when I arrived on WordPress.
New start, new name. Been there, done that, nothing new to see.
Yet tonight I’ve got wondering, where is everyone ??
So why ask this now.
Simple, a street bench and an old guy.
Probably a few years between us but it’s uncanny, all ex-forces know ex-forces.
Him sat there sipping a takeaway tea while I wrote a card out.
“How long” he asked. Without thinking I told him.
“Next generation”, his clipped response.
Nothing nasty, just an observation.
We chatted for about 10 minutes and he said his good byes as his bus was pulling in.
Then he shook my hand. Firm grip, I like that.
“See yer”, and a likewise from me.
I didn’t know whether to smile or weep.
It kinda reminded me of this.
It’s quiet in the mind
When you don’t look around
When you don’t hear the sounds
When no one’s around
Time seems to stutter
And hurt fades away
Thoughts grey to nothing
But your eyes tell your tale
I awoke to another
Who’d joined my quiet bench
“How long then bro”, he said quiet and low
“Too long”, I said slowly and he nodded like he knows
“It mellows with time”, he said from his heart
And stood to move off, stiff, on a slant
“How long then bro”, I asked in return
“I never left”, was his quieted reply.