Taking Pictures

Our boys like to take pictures.  Lots of pictures.  They have their own digital camera, bought after I became frustrated that my camera always had a full memory card and a dead battery.  Giving them their own camera has worked out nicely, my camera is almost always ready for whatever occasion pops up.  Their camera cost about a fourth of what mine did, but because their's is new and mine is old, their's takes nicer pictures and has a host of features mine does not.  I supppose I could have given them my camera and taken the new one for myself but I didn't.  I'm happy enough with my camera and there is one thing about it I like over the new camera: I know how to use it.

The boys take a lot of pictures but they seldom bother to move them off the camera.  They have a big memory card so it takes some effort to fill it.  When that happens, they usually turn to me to save everything so thay can start again.  The last time I transferred pictures from their camera there must have been over a thousand pictures of Lego.  Shot after shot of almost identical plastic creations.  It seemed pointless unless you knew to view them as a rapid slideshow.  Then you would find that the individual shots were actually part of a stop motion movie.  Some of the scenes were rather clever, with characters growing up out of the floor and doing battle.

I remember the time one of my sons used a film camera.  It was a cheap disposable one, with maybe twelve shots on it.  He used up all the shots in less than thirty seconds and was astonished to learn that there was no way to back up and redo any of them.  When I told him it only took twelve shots he assumed I meant it could only hold twelve total, but that he could erase some of the old ones and take new ones if need be.  He was even less impressed when he learned that he couldn't view the pictures right away and that it would actually cost money to get the film developed.

I like our digital cameras.  It used to be that every project the boys undertook, every monument of cardboard and paper created, needed to be preserved undisturbed forever.  Of course, this never happened.  Inevitably, someone or something would bump the exhibit, upsetting both the art and the artist.  Now, we simply take a picture, logging the completed item in all its splendor.  It's much easier to let go of the actual object knowing this evidence exists.   We also use the cameras liberally to photograph each other.  There dosen't have to be a special occasion, we capture the ordinary as well.  In some ways, our photos are the closest thing we have to a family journal.  We were recently trying to figure out how old one of our cats was.  I remembered that she was four months old when we got her.  After a little searching, I found a picture of her that was taken the day we brought her home.  The date of the picture file provided us the last bit of information we needed.

As much as I like the ease and simplicity of our digital camera, I do miss the feeling of anticipation that came with getting back the packet of developed prints.  That was the moment of truth, when you found out if you took the picture you thought you did.  My wife and I always went through the packet together.  Sometimes it was disappointing, sometimes we were pleasantly surprised.  Always, it was an opportunity to recall the occasion or reason why we'd taken the picture.  We don't think about our digital pictures like that.  Often, the reason why a digital shot is taken is that it is easy and cheap to do.  We take the picture because there is little reason not to.