The Wood Burner Tool

 The Thrifty Rocketeer blog continues...

This is an old Xmas memory, but bear with me, as it will pay off...

In the early 1960s, my father's employer was a manufacturing company who held a big family Christmas party in December. One of the big draws was the appearance of Santa, who let each kid sit on his lap and tell him what they wanted for Xmas. A photographer hired by the company also would take flash photos of couples, families and the kids on Santa's lap. The occasion would be preserved in black and white 8 x10 prints.

Unbeknownst to the children, the company had already taken a poll of exactly who was coming to the dinner/party, and the ages and gender of the kids.  Therefore, they knew exactly how many 7 year old boys, and 10 year old girls were coming.  And they could purchase presents that were appropriate for each age. Each wrapped present was marked "Boy 10" or "Girl 7" to be given to the correct aged kid.

This being the early 1960s, everybody attended the company party.  When my family of four arrived, we were at least an hour late for some reason... perhaps because of mis-communication, or my Dad had a crisis at work that delayed him or the inevitable delay it takes a woman to get ready for an evening out.  But whatever the reason, we got there late. Very late.   The meal was just about over, as the boys and girls were filing across the stage and getting their presents from Santa.  My sister and I were about to bolt to go stand in the long line, however, my mother put her foot down, saying that we should eat from the buffet first.  Santa could and would wait.

And so, we waited and ate, while the line became shorter, and shorter.  Eventually, a couple of men swept the room and encouraged us to get in line if we were going to participate.  We bolted the last of our food and went up to get in the end of the dwindling line.  We had prepared by printing a list of a few toys on a paper plate which I had stuffed in my pants pocket to read to Santa.

My sister went first, and there seemed to be some delay as they searched for a present.  But when she cleared his lap, I was the last child.  I sat on his lap, much like the scene from A Christmas Story, and he asked me what I wanted for Xmas.  I remembered my paper plate and started to reach into my pocket as a flash went off from the Company photographer.  I was forever immortalized as squirming on Santa's lap and reaching for my pocket.  In the family album, it is subtitled, "...And I have another list in my other pocket."  The problem was that the paper plate had worked its way out of my pocket on the way onto the stage, and I was empty handed.

No matter, Santa asked me what my age was. I told him, and his "assistants" turned and looked for the appropriate aged present.  There weren't any more.  Several times, they asked me what my age was or if I would accept something else, and they turned, becoming more frantic to find an appropriate age present.  The gifts had been all piled on a large circular table, and when the assistants couldn't find the right age-marked present for one kid, they were substituting another.  Eventually, since this just compounded the problem, there was a severe mis-match in age-related presents, to remaining kids.  I was handed a large wrapped present, and sent on my way.  

Once back at the family seats along the long banquet table, the package was examined, and it became clear that it was marked for a boy several years older than I. When the packages were opened, the present for my older sister was for a much younger age girl, and totally inappropriate.  I have no idea what it was now. She turned her nose up at it, but she didn't make a fuss.   I opened mine, and discovered it was an Ungar wood burning set from a local hobby store, and was clearly intended for a much older boy.  I was puzzled, my mother was miffed, and my father poo-pooed it.  Perhaps he had told them he had a kid 7 and one 10, and they got the genders reversed, but it was a dud.

My mother attempted to insinuate herself and ask for an appropriate present, but my father (sensitive to upsetting his employer) poured water on her concerns and told her to sit down.  We had some leftover melty ice cream for desert as I recall, and then we left as all the other families had left earlier. (I have some impression that many of the men there either were drunk, or that alcoholic drinks had been served, much to my mother's dismay. That may have contributed to the confusion. )  In fact, we were some of the last people to leave before the lights in the hall were turned up.  All in all, the entire evening seemed out of sync, and it lives in my memory.  

Once home, the kit was unpacked and my mother determined I was too young for it. She was rightly afraid that I would burn myself on the Ungar Wood Burning tool. I examined the printed wooden panels and didn't know what to do with it.  My father may have demonstrated a stroke or two but the hot burning tips, but the curling smoke and heat made my mother nix it.  The kit was moved into the basement where it sat for years, untouched. It collected dust and mildew.

After about a decade, my father's Christmas gifts became more appropriate and attuned to our ages.  He bought my sister a fold down stereo player kit from Heathkit for her records. It late1969 and the Fifth Dimension had a hit with the Age of Aquarius. 

My role in this was to learn how to build the kit. My father taught me how to identify the parts, resistors, transistors, diodes, transformer and circuit board, and most importantly, how to solder.  The problem was he had a Weller soldering gun that put out far too much heat and had acid core solder on its tip.  Then he remembered the old Ungar wood burning tool in the basement and had me go fetch it.  Though the temperature range wasn't quite right, as it got too hot, but we'd unplug it every few minutes.  It did the trick, and we were able to melt solder with it.  I'll never forget the smell of the rosin core solder, and the smoke curling over the dining room table. 

Even more impressive was the sound of the flute when we tried out the player and it brought forth the first opening notes of "The Age of Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In" in glorious stereo.  It was a dramatic and proud moment for me.

Later that year my father encouraged us to enter Ham Radio classes, and I earned a Novice license. He may have gotten a General license, but I don't recall. It was a struggle, but the next step was to get a radio. 

My birthday gift that Spring was a Heathkit HW-16 Ham Radio which I also built with our makeshift soldering tool. Every kit that I built over the next four years in high school was with these same supplies and tools, mostly on the dining room table until my mother put her foot down. No more smoke in her dining room.  I retired to my bedroom to stay up late, soldering and assembling, while I listened to James Bond movie soundtracks on repeat on the stereo that I had built.

Recently, I started to get back into Ham radio, as well as start in model rocketry, after decades away from the hobby.  I broke out my trusty soldering wood burner, but discovered that the screw in heat element not only had seized, but the ceramic had broken when I tried to free it. It was time for another.

I did an internet search and found lots of information about Ungar tips and elements, but had no idea what heat range to get. After all, I had the wrong one for years and years.  Eventually, I found an out of business electronics repair shop in Florida that listed dozens of used and broken heating elements, tips and handles on eBay. I discovered that the basic Ungar handle was common to a lot of the devices, but it was the heating elements and tips that varied.  With some patience and guidance from the retired owner, I bought a couple and I was back in business. 

All the memories came flooding back, as I have been building a directional radio antenna and tracker for my model rockets.  After loosing 4 or 5 into the bush over the last year, many rocketeers are talking about using trackers to help find the errant rocket.

My rocket club president and I both decided that a small tracker in a rocket would be helpful, and one after another, built or considered kit after kit that he or I would build and then abandon.

But the memories of that screwed up company Christmas party, so many decades ago, lives on today.  And I can draw a direct line from the company's Xmas assistants' screw-up, to my current hobbies and passions today.

Who knew that their mistake would help to lead me down the path where I am today?

This has been the Thrifty Rocketeer saying, don't throw those old electronic kits away. Save your scrap, your solder, and your old hobbies.