Heinrich von Resonanz

A brief court chronicle of Heinrich von Resonanz, who did not so much use ham radio as inhabit it… like a nobleman moving into a small kingdom and immediately renaming the furniture.

By a reluctant witness to aristocratic SWR rituals
(recorded with due reverence for knobs, needles, and personal delusion)

Heinrich von Resonanz and the Kingdom of One-to-One

Heinrich von Resonanz did not use ham radio so much as he inhabited it, like a nobleman moving into a small kingdom and immediately renaming the furniture.

His shack… he insisted on calling it Schloss Shackenburg… was arranged with the ceremonial precision of a coronation. The transceiver sat on the desk like a jeweled throne. The microphone rested beside it like a royal scepter. The antenna tuner, with its knobs and needles, was clearly the court jester: constantly being twisted, scolded, and forced to “make peace with the impedance, you impudent little gremlin.”

Heinrich believed deeply in resonance as a moral value.

“Resonance is not merely physics. It is character.”

He tried to live his entire life at 50 ohms. He wanted his coffee to be matched. He wanted his socks to be matched. He wanted his personality to be matched, though the only network capable of that would’ve required several coils of copper and an apology.

The Sacred Calibration

Every morning, he would rise and perform what he called “The Sacred Calibration.” He would stand very still, hold an SWR meter in both hands like a holy relic, and speak to himself in a whisper:

“Today, Heinrich… we shall achieve one-to-one.”

Then he’d comb his hair while staring at the SWR meter as if it were a mirror. If the needle wiggled… no one knows why, it wasn’t connected to anything… he’d sigh dramatically and reach for hair gel.

“A touch of capacitance,” he’d murmur, smoothing a stubborn strand. “There. Now you are less… reactive.”

On Speech, Nobility, and the Phonetic Alphabet

Heinrich loved the phonetic alphabet, not because it was useful, but because it sounded like he was announcing himself to the universe with theatrical importance. He could not, under any circumstances, simply say “hello.”

“Hotel Echo India November Romeo India Charlie Hotel… von… Romeo Echo Sierra Oscar November Alpha November Zulu.”
(Repeated slowly, as if the airwaves were hard of hearing… and also mildly intimidated by nobility.)

He had also given himself a callsign that, while technically not assigned by any earthly authority, felt correct in his soul. He wrote it on everything: logbooks, manuals, the back of his hand, occasionally the front of his hand when the back was already full.

Calling CQ Like Summoning the Sea

It wasn’t enough for him to call “CQ.” Heinrich called “CQ” like he was summoning the sea.

“CQ CQ CQ, this is Heinrich von Resonanz, Baron of Band Conditions, Duke of Dipoles, Count of Coaxial Continuity, calling CQ and standing by!”

He would then lean back with the satisfied posture of someone who had just declared war on silence.

Lady Standing Wave

His antenna situation was… ambitious.

Heinrich had started with a simple wire dipole, but it offended him by being humble. It drooped. It swayed. It looked, in his words, “like a peasant clothesline begging for rain.”

So he upgraded.

He built an antenna that wasn’t so much installed as proclaimed. It rose from his property like a medieval siege weapon pointed at the ionosphere. Its guy wires were arranged with the geometry of a royal garden. He named it “Lady Standing Wave,” and he spoke to it like a beloved but temperamental opera singer.

“My dear… we do not scream at 3:1. We sing at 1:1.”

Heinrich’s obsession with SWR bordered on romance. Some people chase sunsets. Heinrich chased a perfect match.

He couldn’t stand the needle floating even slightly above ideal. If the SWR meter moved, he looked personally betrayed, as if the universe itself had flirted with 75 ohms behind his back.

Daily Injustices

He kept a notebook titled INJUSTICES, where he recorded the daily insults inflicted upon him by reality:

• “14 MHz: moody, refuses to cooperate.”
• “Coax: suspiciously warm, possibly treason.”
• “Ionosphere: arrogant. Unresponsive to reason.”

To be fair, the ionosphere never once wrote him back.

When band conditions were bad, Heinrich took it personally. He did not say, “Propagation is poor.” He said, “The air is being difficult.”

He would pace, hands clasped behind his back, and mutter Q-codes at the ceiling as if they were curses from an ancient wizard:

“QRM! QRN! QSB!”

When thunderstorms rolled in, he stared at the sky like a man whose dinner reservation had been canceled by a god.

“Static. The sky is gossiping again.”

The DX Evening and the Most Splendid Contact

But the funniest thing about Heinrich von Resonanz… truly the crown jewel of his entire radio reign… was that he was so desperate for a perfect signal that he accidentally built the world’s most effective device for contacting… himself.

It happened during one of his grand “DX evenings,” which he conducted with ceremony. He wore a headset like a tiara. He sat before his logbook like a judge. He cracked his knuckles the way a pianist does before a concerto, except his concerto was going to be mostly him saying “Roger” with aristocratic confidence.

He tuned. He adjusted. He peaked the power. He checked the SWR meter at least seven times, because Heinrich believed seven was the most resonant number.

He pressed the PTT.

“CQ CQ, this is Heinrich von Resonanz calling CQ, seeking distant stations, over!”

And then… miracle of miracles… he heard a voice come back immediately.

Clear. Strong. Confident.

“Good evening, Heinrich von Resonanz. You are coming in absolutely splendid, old chap.”

Heinrich froze.

His eyes widened. His hand trembled over the logbook.

“Finally,” he breathed, as if destiny itself had just answered.

He leaned in, elegant and trembling with joy.

“Station calling,” he said, “please confirm your callsign, your location, and your admiration for my signal report.”

The voice returned, even smoother.

“My callsign is… Heinrich von Resonanz.”

Heinrich blinked.

“…Pardon?”

“Your signal is exceptional. Truly the finest, most resonant signal I have ever had the privilege to receive. Five-nine-plus, with noble audio.”

Heinrich sat very still, as a terrible suspicion crept across his face.

He slowly turned his head.

His microphone cable… immaculately routed, lovingly zip-tied, proudly labeled… was plugged into the wrong jack.

He had created a feedback loop so perfectly matched that his own voice was returning to him with the enthusiasm of a devoted fan.

Heinrich stared at the equipment. The equipment stared back with its indifferent LEDs.

In that moment, many men would have been embarrassed.

Heinrich von Resonanz, however, adjusted his posture like a man presented with an unexpected opportunity to be impressed with himself.

He cleared his throat.

“Ah… Heinrich von Resonanz, this is Heinrich von Resonanz. You are also coming in quite excellently. How copy, old boy?”

The loop replied instantly, delighted.

“Excellent copy, Heinrich. Truly, your station is an inspiration.”

Heinrich smiled… slowly, deeply… like someone falling in love with the only person who had ever properly appreciated his SWR discipline.

The Log Entry and the QSL

He logged the contact anyway.

Time: 19:42
Band: 20m
Mode: SSB
Station Worked: Himself (but with outstanding manners)
Report: 59+ (handsome, dignified audio)
Notes: “Operator extremely agreeable. Would work again.”

And because Heinrich was nothing if not thorough, he later sent himself a QSL card.

On the front, he drew a heroic little sketch of his antenna reaching majestically into the sky, like a crown attempting to contact heaven.

On the back, he wrote:

“Confirmed: splendid contact with a highly refined station. Your signal resonates beautifully. Hope to meet you again on the bands. 73.”

Then he placed the QSL card in his own mailbox, saluted it as it went in, and walked back to his shack with the serene satisfaction of a man who had finally found the perfect station.

Of course it was him.

Of course it was always going to be him.

Because no one on Earth… no one across any band, any continent, any ionospheric hop… was ever going to love Heinrich von Resonanz as faithfully…

as Heinrich von Resonanz.

Interested in more quiet RF heresies?
https://shop.rf.guru/pages/subscribe

Questions or experiences to share? Feel free to contact RF.Guru.