The ARRL’s Logbook of The World program began in 2003. Yeah. That long ago. I know, hard to believe, but more than twenty years have passed and the program has slowly grown in popularity. Having moved (QTH) more than a dozen times up to that point, I was tired of toting physical QSL cards stashed in boxes, from one state to another as we worked through my career.

That’s probably why electronic QSLing seemed such an outstanding idea to me and I embraced it quickly and proceeded to suffer through the first decade when too few hams were getting onboard. Eventually, the number of users climbed until now my return rate is at least as good as paper QSLs via postal mail. It’s smart. It’s efficient. It eliminates postal costs, and as we witnessed when the world descended into pandemic, it got the job done when postal mail quit working in many parts of the world. It seemed a very smart solution to QSLing.

On top of all that, it’s tightly integrated with the ARRL awards programs and reduces what used to be a chore to a few mouse clicks. So for all those perfectly valid, and very smart reasons, I abandoned the practice of exchanging paper QSL cards via mail and was certain my decision to go “LoTW Only” was the right one.

Turns out, I WAS WRONG.

I’ve been involved in amateur radio practically my entire life, having been licensed while still in high school and was continuously active over the course of my career. Now retired, I’ve become a little more reflective about why I have chosen to spend my entire life in the company of radio people and think I know why. Radio has become ritual for me and coming to grips with that reveals what holds my attention.

The Ritual

Back in the before time, a typical evening at home often included a visit to the radio shack. After dinner and the kids were doing homework or off to bed and my wife watching TV, I’d slip off for an hour or so to “check the bands”.

While the equipment was warming I’d slowly load my pipe, usually a Meerschaum, but more often a Peterson, with either Navy Flake, or, in warmer weather, Bluegill Lake. Once lit, I was prepared to ride the VFO. It should be noted that we didn’t have waterfall displays in those days, we had to turn a big knob to go looking for signals (I could write endlessly about how the waterfall display has become another nail in the coffin, but I won’t. Not right now anyway). I tune across a strong CW signal, a fellow in South Dakota launching CQ’s endlessly into the dark night. I reply and we strike up a pleasant thirty minute QSO where I learn a little more about “Dave” and his life in the Black Hills.

As the embers from my pipe are slowly dying so are the signals on 20 meters and we close with 73 and CU AGN. I pick up an elegant engineering pencil placed on my desk for just this purpose, and dutifully fill out my paper log noting with care each detail. With that chore complete, I pull out a fresh QSL card and fill it out with details of our contact along with a brief personal note. I put a stamp on it and drop it on the kitchen table destined for the mailbox the next day.

That’s the way it used to be. Now logging chores are handled by the computer which reads the transceiver details like mode, power, and frequency. My only responsibility is to type in a call sign and a signal report, and my logging program permits me to pre-populate that field if I choose. 599 for all! The logging program then communicates with the TQSL software and automatically uploads the contact to LoTW. Again, nothing more for me to do. Thanks to technology, humans have become practically unnecessary in this hobby.

Missing from this scenario is the ritual of radio that has been practiced and perfected over many decades. There is the tactile feel of the paper logbook and the pencil. Speedy automation doesn’t permit time for much contemplation of what just happened, it merely clears the runway for more contacts. A dizzying and endless blast of activity that, on some nights, and for some operators, results in a hundred or more Q’s in the “log”. Lost is the touch and feel of the paper QSL card that has been carefully considered and handsomely printed or of the pen that fills in the fields before being dropped into the mail slot.

For me, this seems like the endless debate between reading a good book on a Kindle or reading the hardback version of the same. The Kindle is small and can carry hundreds of books, it’s efficient. The printed book can be touched, the pages folded. Printed paper has a scent that doesn’t come with the e-book. I’ve come to realize it’s not a question of efficiency or even practicality, it’s a matter of experience. I can drink a protein shake and down a handful of supplements and get the same nutrition as a full-meal. But I could choose a nice filet mignon in a cozy restaurant environment with a fireplace and with friends. I’m paying as much for the experience as for the food.

I’ve come to miss that in my amateur radio journey and now believe if there is no ritual, I’ll likely abandon the hobby.

It’s become too much button pushing automation for me. I want my challenge to be figuring out how to better enjoy the radio experience, not to spend hours struggling with how to get a software driver to work so I can operate my station remotely with an iPad. That kind of automation might be smart and the coolest thing you’ve ever seen, but it has left me cold and distanced from my hobby.

For the record, I’m not suggesting everyone is doing it wrong or that you should follow the peculiar path I’ve put myself on. This is just “me” and the way I want to enjoy ham radio. I don’t want to become jaded by too many screens and advanced methods when simple still works. Connecting with another human via radio is magic and I want it to stay that way, even if breathtaking new inventions make it possible to achieve DXCC in an afternoon while waiting in line at the BMV.

I’m going back to paper logging and sending QSL cards by postal mail. At the end of each month I’ll manually transfer the paper log to LoTW. Maybe I’ll smoke a pipe while doing that and see if that process can’t become another ritual…

When are you gonna come down?
When are you going to land?
I should have stayed on the farm
I should have listened to my old man