With the technology age, all sorts of advancements and gadgets have come to the forefront. Among the many things that are now commonplace are telephones that double as digital cameras. Amazing!
Photography, or "picture taking" as my Alabama kin call it, has certainly changed through the years. No more film. No chemical-filled "dark rooms." No flash bulbs. Cameras are no longer the size of boat anchors. And, places like Olan Mills are no longer found on every corner in America.
This writer remembers the old "Brownie" box camera that his parents had. The operator had to peer down through an eye-let in the top of the camera to spot the target. Forget the zoom and focus. There was none. Once the subject was still, the picture-taker flipped down a little, red lever on the box's right side. The box camera made a "snap" sound that indicated the process was completed.
The learning curve for using cameras has also come a long way. Folks today know about pixels, mega-pixels, dpi's, and cropping. In days gone by, the only thing one needed to know was how to "snap" someone.
Too, there is no longer a protracted wait for the things we "snap." Due to almost instantaneous photo processing, or at the most - one hour, viewing pictures is a lot more immediate today than it once was. Instead of waiting for weeks for photos to be developed, and then for another protracted period while snail mail gets them to us, pictures today can be viewed in a matter of seconds or minutes using e-mail and the internet. Again, things have come a long way, baby!
But, regardless of how technology and the passing of time have changed the process, the art of capturing an image is timeless and powerful. As they say, "a picture is (still) worth a thousand words."
This was certainly true in the story that is told about a young guy who got a new camera for his birthday and was anxious to try it out. He wanted to send pictures to the significant women in his life. So, he proceeded to take pictures of his face for his aged mother, and of his "male" area for his new girlfriend. His sense of humor with this new camera would soon come back to haunt him.
When these images were finally developed, he mailed the pictures separately to both of his beloved women. However, in his excitement to get them in the mail and on their way, without realizing his mistake, he got the two addresses mixed up. The pictures of his face, which were intended for his mother, went to the girlfriend. The very "personal" pictures meant for his girlfriend went instead to his sainted mother. He discovered his error when his girlfriend called to say that she enjoyed the pictures of his face.
Naturally, he was quite worried about the reaction he would get from his aged mother. What would she say about the genitalia pictorial? A few weeks later, he finally heard from his mother."Dear Son," she wrote, "Thank you for the nice letter, and for the wonderful pictures. But, I have some advice for you." He cringed at her words. She continued, "You need to quit parting your hair like that...It makes your nose look too big."
There were no smiles in pictures from yesteryear. From those early days of photography, the subjects look as if someone had just stolen their identity. Grim, blank, sorrowful facial expressions are common in every image. Every time a family drags out the age-old picture albums of the past, this fact is reaffirmed.
Too, the national restaurant chain, Cracker Barrel, has as part of its decor, some of the ugliest, most mournful looking folks imaginable in the old pictures that fill their dining rooms. The smiling and grinning like a possum in more modern pictures is certainly a departure from how it was done back in the old days.
Back in the 1970's, photo booths were scattered throughout shopping malls, amusement parks, and other places where people went to spend money and have a good time. For a dollar, one or two folks could duck into one of these booths and come away with a sleeve of photos, with four different poses. Many a dating couple used this as a way to preserve the memory of their being together. Many a wife has asked the question, "And WHO is this?" upon finding a sleeve of these pictures amongst a husband's keepsakes or junk that he didn't know he still had.
Kodak and Polaroid competed heavily against one another in the instant photo market as it came into existence. This writer remembers having one of those cameras. Before the days of "auto-focus," the camera operator was required to ensure manually that the proper focus was in place before "snapping" the picture. While looking through the viewfinder, the photographer had to squeeze and turn the shutter button in order to focus the camera. A graphic would appear in the viewfinder that read, "NO," when the camera was out of focus, and "YES," when the picture was ready to take.
One of this writer's high school buddies remarked once that this function on cameras was a lot like dating a female. You had to know where to squeeze, how hard, and which way to "turn" them before they would say, "YES," too. Some young lads in their teens have only enough sense to turn even the most innocent process into something sexual and risque.
The little "Brownie" box camera mentioned previously in this story, was given to this writer's parents when they moved to Georgia, and far away from Mama's Alabama home in the early years of their marriage. Granddaddy bought them the camera as a belated wedding gift, and made them promise to take plenty of pictures and send them back home so the family could see how their family grew and their life changed over in Georgia. This writer's older sister was just a baby when Mama and Daddy relocated to Atlanta.
Over time, that old Brownie camera produced shoebox after shoebox of black and white pictures of Mama and this writer's older sister. Once, when we were visiting back in Alabama, Granddaddy remarked about all the pictures Mama had sent through the years. He never said a word about the pictures being good, or the images being pretty or life-like. He did, however, notice one thing about those priceless photos. His comment was, "Ya'll don't 'snap' Ernest much, do you?"
That's another thing about cameras from, "way back when," versus now. There was no timer or automatic shutter in cameras of the past. The person who was deemed the most technologically proficient rarely got into the pictures. He or she was always behind the camera, taking all the shots of family and friends. In this writer's family, that would have been Daddy.
Capturing poignant moments on film or memory card is a blessed thing. But, with the good also comes the bad.
This writer's wife is a wonderful woman. She was and is an incredible mother to her children, and the greatest life partner anyone could have. But, a techno-babe she is not. This writer's wife (let's call her "Deb") is always glad to oblige when a picture needs taking. But, with "Deb" there is no guarantee as to what kind of picture will come forth. Most of the time, regardless of the technological marvels built in to the particular camera involved, this writer's "Deb" will wind up cutting off the subject's head. Through the years, we have collected all sorts of unique shots of people's necks, and the rest of their bodies. In those instances, everyone always assumes that "Deb" must have been the one with her finger on the shutter.
However, THE worst and dumbest mistake ever made by someone with a camera hand cannot be claimed by this superb woman. Rather, the prize goes to her zany husband.
One of the most indelible lessons learned by parents of teenagers is that everything in their world happens fast! Split-second reactions are commonplace when the house is occupied by teens of either gender. At the drop of a hat, and without notice or warning, almost anything can and does happen. Such was the case on a Saturday afternoon back in the late 1990's.
This writer had been working in the yard during one of the hottest days of the year. It was a Saturday. Two budding teenage girls lived at our house. This meant, of course, that there would soon be a flurry of coming and going and other activity as the sun started to set.
The long, hot shower was like a tonic to a sweaty, tired body. Stepping out of the tub and grabbing a towel, this tired, old, yard monkey was drying his squeaky clean body when, suddenly, "Deb" rushed in and shoved the family's 35mm camera in his face, saying, "The girls are about to leave, and I wanted to get their picture together...They're in a BIG hurry...Can you load the film in the camera for me?"
Before this writer could explain that he was still trying to dry off from the shower, "Deb" ran lickety-split back out the bedroom door and down the hall. Loud, female voices could be heard coming from one of the other bathrooms. Something about "make-up" and someone stealing someone else's jewelry.
"Hurry up, Dad!" a frantic, female voice bellowed.
Moving into high gear, this writer stepped into the bedroom without benefit of any clothing or bath towel wrapped around his body. He grabbed the camera from atop the dresser, and before he could open the film chamber, his finger accidentally touched the shutter button. The camera "clicked" or "snapped" with a sickening clarity, as the automatic rewind kicked into gear. There had, evidently, been one empty frame left on the roll of film that was now rewinding with all its might.
This writer looked up, saw that he was standing directly in front of the dresser mirror, and still without a stitch of clothing or cover on his body. "Oh, no!" he mumbled to himself, "this thing just took a picture of what it saw in that mirror!"
Not knowing what to do, this writer reloaded the camera with a fresh roll of film and quickly got dressed. He made it outside just in time to capture on film the images of their two daughters that "Deb" had wanted.
And, as he was coming back into the house with his precious wife, he wondered...
"Do I tell her, or do I just let her find it out later?"
Without saying which decision this writer made, it was certainly a most humorous coincidence when Mama wrote not long after that to request that her son change the way he was parting his hair.
"Well, I'll be John Brown"
- David Decker
February 4, 2011
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