Who's this guy Egbert?
Sex: male
Age: well, uhm…
Status: married
Kids: two sons
Grandfather: yes, what a joy!
Profession: happily retired
Remember 1961? That year the Berlin Wall was built and Yuri Gagarin was the first human to conquest space. I was born on November 18th of that famous year.
Growing Up
Speaking of my childhood—being an only child, I was fortunate to grow up in a warm and loving home, surrounded by the care of my parents and grandparents. Now, well into my sixties, there isn’t a day that passes without me fondly and wistfully remembering them.
As a child, I was passionate about cars. I could lose myself for hours playing with my beloved Dinky and Corgi Toys, completely unaware of the time slipping by. I knew every car brand by heart, recognizing each logo and name with ease—it was a world that fascinated me endlessly.
As a young teenager, I became fascinated by my dad’s tape recorder, gradually figuring out the purpose of all those mysterious buttons. Whenever the hit parade aired on the radio, I was ready—recording my favorite songs and soon even creating my own weekly charts.
Back then, mixing my voice into the music with a microphone was no small feat. But I was determined. If the professional DJs on the radio could do it, so could I. On Saturday afternoons, my dad would be treated to my very own Top 30 countdown while he tinkered with his model railway in the garden shed—an audience of one, but a loyal one.
Every summer, we vacationed in Italy—my parents’ favorite destination. I vividly remember the early morning hours before departure, when I’d wake up early and tune in to our medium wave radio. To my amazement, I could pick up faraway stations more clearly at that hour. Once, I even heard the distant signal of “Radio Tirana” crackling through the speaker. Was that the moment my passion for radio began? Perhaps. But it certainly left an impression that never faded.
Not far from where we lived was a now-defunct Tandy store—better known to many as Radio Shack. I still remember tugging at my grandmother’s arm, urging her inside. There, proudly displayed, was one of those magical “100-in-1” electronic experiment kits.
Anything related to radio instantly captured my imagination. I was especially fascinated by that mysterious little key that could produce Morse code beeps—it felt like a secret language waiting to be unlocked.
In high school, my parents were determined that I study Latin and Ancient Greek—and they succeeded. But while I dutifully translated the classics, my true passion lay elsewhere. Whenever we were assigned to give a book review, I always found a way to talk about radio instead. To this day, many former classmates still remember me for that.
Around that time, I received a world receiver as a Christmas gift—a turning point for me. Through shortwave, I could suddenly tune in to voices from across the globe. I was thrilled when I picked up a broadcast from Radio Canada and wasted no time rushing to the post office to send them a letter by airmail, letting them know they’d been heard in Belgium.
The morning their reply arrived, I was so excited I nearly forgot the time—and was almost late for school.
Eventually, I discovered the world of amateur radio—and to me, it felt like the ultimate dream come true. This was the summum, the pinnacle of everything I loved about radio.
But there was a catch: the level of technical knowledge required was daunting. All the Latin and Greek grammar I had studied in school was of little use here.
How I finally made the leap—especially after many years of dedicated listening—to becoming a licensed operator myself, is a story of patience and passion. You can read all about it by clicking the “Amateur Radio” button in the menu at the top of this page.
My mom & me during our last real vacation.
Taormina, Sicily Island - 1975
My childhood appeared carefree on the surface, but at the age of six, my world quietly shifted—my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent surgery, radiation, and the full range of treatments available at the time, though therapies in the late 1960s were far less advanced than they are today.
As a child and later a teenager, I wasn’t told the full truth—that her cancer was metastatic. In the years following her initial treatment, we lived as if nothing was wrong. Life continued with a fragile sense of normalcy. But about eight years later, her health began to decline again. Warning signs appeared, and while they triggered deep concern, I clung to hope.
Then, fate struck with cruel finality. After ten years of unimaginable strength and resilience, my mother passed away at just forty-eight. I was sixteen, and her loss hit me with devastating force.
Some people say time heals all wounds—but that’s a comforting illusion. The pain changes, perhaps, but it never truly disappears.
Life goes on
In high school, on a crisp but beautiful January day, I met Else—and, well, you know how hormones can take over from there.
We married fairly young, but we’re living proof that it can work out wonderfully 😉
After passing a competitive exam for the administrative services of the City of Brussels, I began my career as a civil servant. Like many from my generation, I stayed in that role until I was able to retire early, which gave me plenty of time to focus on my hobbies—you’ve already read about my passion for amateur radio.
I was also captivated by the classic “Airport” movies. I must have watched the entire series at least four or five times. Like many boys, I dreamed of becoming a pilot—though I never actually pursued it. Still, the technology and all those cockpit instruments fascinated me. When the computer age arrived, I bought myself a flight simulator, and over the years, as the software improved dramatically, it has become another beloved hobby that fills much of my spare time.
In our late twenties, Else and I became proud parents to two sons. Both earned academic degrees and have gone on to pursue careers with far greater ambition than I ever had. Now in their thirties, they continue to make us proud.
Almost fours years ago, our family grew with the arrival of our granddaughter. I cherish every moment spent with her—she means the world to me. And the joy just kept coming: in early July 2023, our grandson was born!
Vacations have always been the highlight of the year! Once, we traveled with our boys, but now it’s just the two of us, exploring most of Europe during the summer months. From Northern to Southern and Eastern Europe, no border has ever held us back—even when it meant navigating some red tape, like visiting the then-still-existing GDR or traveling through Russia.
In the past decade, we’ve often chosen to escape the Belgian winter by heading to more distant, sunnier destinations. And whenever we’re on a plane, you can be sure I’m enthusiastically explaining to Else all the different sounds and noises the aircraft makes—my little tradition in the skies.
Mechelen, my home town
I call Mechelen my home for more than six decades. The city, which has a population of some 80,000 is located in the Flanders region of Belgium. The mediaval town boasts a very rich history.
