My dad was on the cutting edge of radio technology for the mobile
operations of his business. He installed a two way radio system so
that my mom could rat us out when were were being naughty. Not
really, the system was supposed to be for him to get information and
messages from our house about his business and there was even a way
to patch a phone call out to him on his mobile radio years before
cell phones were common. In practical use it was mostly for my mom to
tell on us or to use as a prop to threaten to tell on us. The
funniest thing was that my dad was supper paranoid about radio
protocol and would loose his mind if you did not operate the radio in
the way he had laid out in our standard operations instructions for
our family. When we used the radio transmitter which was supposed to
always be turned on when he was out of the house we were to press to
button and say, 'base to mobile', at least twice. After we had said
'base to mobile' we had to wait a little while and then we could
repeat it if we felt so inclined. If he was available he would call
back, 'mobile to base' two times and then we could talk. As a form of
supplementary discipline my mom would walk over to the transmitter
which was situated in our living room on a table by the hall and say
she was just going to have to call my dad. This little trick would
usually cool our jets a little and we would knock off the trouble
making. If we were feeling particularly saucy a simple threatening
motion toward the mic was not enough to tamp down our youthful
exuberance and she would make an initial 'base to mobile' just to let
us know we were seconds away from being told on. If we didn't
straiten out what ever shenanigans we were up to by the time my dad
responded she would give us a long hard of impending doom while she
mutely held the transmitter mic. If, while we were hanging over this
most precarious of precipices we were still unable or unwilling to
straiten up and fly right she would tell on us and recommend
punishment and once it was pronounced there was no coming back. That
dang radio sat back there like the sword of Damocles constantly
poised to recommend a grounding or spanking with no chance of a
commutation, because once my dad had heard a disciplinary need over
the radio the die was cast he would execute the sentence as a matter
of radio etiquette. He would reserve the most harsh and most severe
punishments for anyone who dared to violate radio protocol or was
guilty of 'playing around on the radio'. A spank-able and ground-able
offense not to be taken lightly. He was always afraid of official
sanction by the radio cops for misusing the channel he had be given
license to use. Periodic goofing off notwithstanding the radio cops
never stormed the castle to confiscate our gear and kill us in our
sleep. I can only figure we dodged a bullet there.
