CQ, CQ, come in, CQ
posted in Alaska, OmegaMom, The Move |My maternal grandfather was a ham radio operator. They had a huge antenna attached to the back of the house, and his ham setup was in his den, just off the kitchen. My cousins and I would hang out on the daybed in his den, listening to him call out to the world and get responses from all over. Mostly it was just chat, but he had some regular buddies with whom he’d play long-distance chess.
The code for "hey, there, is anyone out there and wanting to talk?" was "CQ, CQ, come in, CQ. This is W4HWA, calling CQ. Come in, CQ."
The CQ code is, supposedly (according to Wikipedia), related to the French word sécurité; the idea is that the sound of the letters CQ are like the first two syllables, and, since it originated in telegraphy, the shorter, the better.
So I’ve been under radio silence for a week now. Mostly, it was a case of the blahs, a serious case of the blahs. I’d wake up in the morning, and it would be grey. I’d end work for the day, and it would be grey. I’d go to bed, and it would be grey. So I ended up feeling grey and gloomy, dull, dismal, uninteresting, and not wanting to inflict my "wah, wah, wah" on the world.
The blahs are such a sad excuse for depression. My blogroll is full of people who have serious reason for complaint: There’s Clueless in Carolina, who is dealing with a mom descending into Alzheimers. There’s Boomerific, whose home was lost in the Iowa floods. There’s BrooklynMama, who is dealing with a husband with cancer, and a new baby, and a four-year-old who wants to know where daddy is. There’s Mrs. Figby, whose mom is having serious problems.
And there I am, just stewing, for no good reason. Hell, me, myself, just a few years ago, had a much better reason to be miserable…and, at the time, I was, and it was much worse, more agonizing. This is just…blah. Poor OmegaDad is at a loss, wishing I were happier. So do I, of course. I figure it’s a function of being in a new place, with a totally different outlook and climate, and being away from my mom and my friends, and that in a year or two, things will be much better.
Which is, of course, not much consolation right now.
So, instead of nattering on about that any more, I will merely post this lovely video, which made me smile and feel happy and warm and connected in a global way (okay, everyone, let’s start singing "Kumbayah", eh?):
Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.
