I’ve lived through a lot of cameras and the technological advances that come with them.
I think the oldest camera I can remember using is the instant kind that spit out the photograph and you kind of wave it back and forth. Not really sure if that actually helps the development process or not, but you do it anyway.
I remember the kind where you’d load the roll of film in and advance it until it was in the proper place. I think I usually ruined the first few pictures by pulling too much film out. I thought cameras had reached their pinnacle when I got a camera that self-loaded the roll for you.
I have pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Pictures from every phase of my life. Most of them are not quality pictures, by current standards. My cell phone actually takes better pictures than any camera I’ve ever owned.
Whatever my phone does, it does with little help from the person holding it. I like to point it at the night sky and let it do its thing.
A friend of mine sent me a picture the other day. When I looked at it I replied, “Wow, what a beautiful picture!” My friend replied, “It’s not a good picture, no. It’s just a good memory.”
I looked at the picture again. My friend was right. By photographic standards, I don’t suppose it would win many awards. But when you add to it the memory in my head, it would bring home a stack of awards from even the finest photography award ceremonies.
I have no idea if there are any photography award ceremonies. I just had no other analogy to use. It’s my story, so there are best picture ceremonies in this story. And if you could add the memories attached to the pictures, I would have the winner in my possession.
I have pictures hanging all over the house. The refrigerator is full. The walls are full. The photo albums are full. Most of the pictures were taken with generic, none-too-expensive cameras. And I look goofy in the vast majority of any that I’m in.
Thank your lucky stars you didn’t know me when I had hair, as I was quick to dye it as blonde as I could get it. God and family genetics knew what they were doing when they made me bald. I’m not mature enough to have a head of hair.
No matter how shabby the camera that took the pictures, or how much technology has advanced since they were taken, if you have good memories when you look at them, they’re beautiful pictures.
Toby Nix is a local writer, guitarist and investigator with the Coweta County Sheriff’s Office. He is the author of two books, “Columns I Wrote” and “A Book I Wrote.” He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org .