Every summer, on the fourth full weekend of June, amateur radio operators across North America haul out their gear, string up wire antennas in trees, fire up generators, and take to the airwaves for one of the hobby’s signature events: ARRL Field Day. This year, having relatively recently relocated to East Texas, I made a special effort to track down my local club and introduce myself. My motives were simple. First, I wanted to support the local club. Second, I wanted to see how active and engaged they were in showcasing our great hobby to the public.What I found left me, frankly, disappointed. In all my years in this hobby—and I’ve been licensed since 1973—I have never seen such a lackadaisical display in my life.

What Field Day Is Supposed to Be

For the uninitiated, let me back up and explain what Field Day actually is, because understanding its purpose makes my disappointment a little clearer.Field Day is sponsored annually by the American Radio Relay League (ARRL), the national association for amateur radio in the United States. It began in 1933 and has grown into the single most popular on-air activity in all of amateur radio, drawing more than 30,000 participants each year across the U.S. and Canada.At its heart, Field Day is part emergency-preparedness exercise, part contest, and part public demonstration. The core idea is to practice operating under field conditions—away from the comfort of a home station, often running on emergency or alternative power such as generators, batteries, or solar. The skills exercised are precisely the ones that matter when hurricanes, tornadoes, ice storms, or other disasters knock out conventional communications. Amateur radio operators have a long and proud history of providing emergency communication when nothing else is working, and Field Day is where we sharpen that edge.But Field Day is also about the public. The ARRL explicitly encourages clubs to invite the community, elected officials, and the press to come see what amateur radio can do. There’s even a Get-On-The-Air (GOTA) station specifically designed so that newcomers, visitors, and lapsed hams can sit down, key the microphone, and make a contact under the guidance of a control operator. It is, in the truest sense, an open house for a hobby that depends on bringing in new blood.

What I Found Instead

So what did I find when I rolled up to my local Field Day site? A small parking lot with maybe a half-dozen cars and two—count them, two—air-conditioned trailers. Under a shade tree sat exactly one person, watching over a few folding tables loaded with old CB radios and antiquated equipment from a bygone era.It seemed the event had been repurposed as a swap meet. Meanwhile, the folks who owned those trailers were, as best I could tell, playing radio in air-conditioned comfort with absolutely no public access. They were, in effect, portable shacks—closed off, insular, and inviting nobody in.I won’t name the club they represented, and that’s rather the whole point: I had no idea who they were beyond “some hams,” and judging by the swap-table merchandise, more than a few ex-CBers.

How It Used to Be Done

Contrast this with Field Day as I’ve known it for the better part of five decades. In years past, there was a real rhythm to the weekend. On Friday night we’d gather as a club to erect antennas—dipoles, verticals, beams hoisted on push-up masts—working together, swapping stories, and getting the site ready.From the start time on Saturday afternoon until the quitting time on Sunday, every contact we made went into the log. And critically, visitors were welcomed. We’d encourage them to listen for a bit to the rhythm of the bands, then hand them the microphone to make a contact of their own. That little taste was often enough to whet someone’s appetite—to either upgrade their existing license or to start the process of getting licensed and joining the organization.What I witnessed this year was, quite simply, not that.

The Real Takeaway: Be an Elmer

Here’s the lesson I keep coming back to. In ham radio tradition, an “Elmer” is a mentor—an experienced operator who takes a newcomer under their wing and shows them the ropes. The term has been part of our culture for generations, and it points to the single most important survival mechanism this hobby has.It is clearly up to those of us who know what this event is supposed to be to get involved in our local clubs and Elmer them. We need to gently nudge them in the right direction, remind them that Field Day is not a private swap meet in the air conditioning, but a showcase, an invitation, and a recruiting opportunity. If we don’t, this wonderful hobby may well go the way of the telegraph: a quaint relic remembered fondly but practiced by almost no one.I’m not writing this to scold anyone. I’m writing it as a wake-up call to myself as much as anyone else. The seasoned operators among us carry both the knowledge and the responsibility.

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Want to learn more? Visit the ARRL Field Day page at arrl.org/field-day, or search for an upcoming licensing class and Field Day event near you. If you’re a licensed operator, consider being someone’s Elmer this year.

About The Image: Echoes of Tomorrow is a sci fi novel I wrote with Ham Radio as a plot device.

What if the future could speak to you… and what if it had already begun to scream?They said the signal was just noise. Background static. The random hiss of a universe winding down.They were wrong. Buried in the cosmic murmur was a voice—faint, deliberate, and unmistakably human. A voice that hadn’t been spoken yet. A warning sent backward across the silence, carried on frequencies no one was supposed to be listening to. But someone was. In Echoes of Tomorrow, the line between memory and prophecy dissolves. Every choice leaves a trace. Every trace leaves an echo. And somewhere out in the dark between the stars, those echoes are folding back on themselves, reaching for the one person who can still hear them before it’s too late.The past is fixed. The future is listening. And tomorrow has already started sending messages home. Some echoes don’t fade. They wait.

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