1962, way before the internet and computers changed everything. This is how I regularly sent e-mail to my best friend whose back yard backed up to ours.
We were in the 9th grade, and got pretty good with Morse code. I had pushed a small wooden
desk up against my second story bedroom window, and had this set-up sitting
prominently in the center. A wire ran out from my window, made a long, graceful
arc across our entire back yard, and attached to the garage. From there it went
on to the huge old Oak in David's backyard, and looped down again, into a first floor
window at the den room where his own key was set up.
David and I had a lot of fun with that communication for a few years. I probably should not have assumed that all messages that came in to me were from David though. Especially when he said something about his father and I suggested that his father could only get sexually excited by farm animals... and it turned out to actually be Hank Callahan, David's father, that I was speaking with on the other key. Even after he identified himself, I didn't believe him and continued to suggest that he fuck himself with an array of shop tools and garden produce before I realized it really was Mr. Callahan on the other end...naturally that's when I told him that I was my brother, Kenny.
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