I missed it because I was more worried about getting the
shot than living the moment.
We were ready, waiting in the front yard: my wife, our daughter,
our neighbor, and me. When the bus rumbled up the block, I assumed
the perfect photographer's angle and position, crossing the street in front of my
daughter to line up my lens so I could see right up the steps of the bus. I’d be ready when she turned around and waved.
I stood with the camera to my eye (a digital Rebel SLR – I know, old
school). And through the tiny view
finder I watched a tiny version of my little girl cross the street, then round
the front of the bus. She hesitated for
a moment as the district-assigned school bus assistant gave her basic bus
loading instructions, then she climbed up the steps, turned and disappeared down the aisle.
I got a few photos, but I missed the shot. She never turned
around on the steps -- the pose so many other parents posted this week on the
internet -- and she never gave us a wave.
Immediately, I was bummed that the shot hadn’t happened. Dang.
Then I looked over and saw our neighbor, who has helped babysit
our baby girl since she was born, crying.
In this old New Yorker cover, parents are all checking their email during trick or treating. In today's version, we'd all be recording and posting. Which is far better. Right? |
I didn’t see that happen at all. I couldn’t see it looking through the back end of a camera, standing where I had to be in order to get the
perfect angle for the wave-from-the-steps shot.
The perfect angle?
I realized then I hadn’t just missed the shot. I’d missed the moment.
And I'd missed the emotion. I didn’t get that familiar lump in my throat when those growing-up milestones occur before our eyes. My eyes were blocked by a Canon and my emotion stifled by the frustration I felt that the bus driver or the assistant hadn’t told her to turn around and wave at the family photographer.
It made me think of all the time I’ve spent filming and
photographing their lives, looking through a viewfinder or staring at the back of an
Iphone: birthdays, school plays, graduation ceremonies.
If I didn't have a camera to my eye, I'd feel naked.
When you get the shot and capture that moment, it can be perfect. Years later, when
everyone gathers on the couch to look at old photos, or to watch an old
video, it's certainly worth it.
But how many times have we watched those birthday song videos, which I have dutifully recorded every time at the expense of just soaking it in.
Are all of us so obsessed with recording life that we are missing it?
Are all of us so obsessed with recording life that we are missing it?
Because, I can tell you, when you miss the shot and the moment, it kind of sucks.
This time, for sure, I wish I had a second chance just to live the moment.
This time, for sure, I wish I had a second chance just to live the moment.
2 comments:
But, on the other hand, some of those photographs allow you to re-live the "greatest hits" of the experience--an experience that might have had involved a complex mix of emotions, ups and downs. I know that I treasure my husband's vacation photos because they allow me to remember all of the high points of our travels--and the low points are conveniently edited out.
--Reid Sullivan
Thanks for reading, Reid. I agree, memory proves an efficient editor, taking out all the emotional stress that can dominate the present. That's why a vacation often doesn't feel like a vacation until we're looking at the photos. Which is why I'll keep taking the pictures.
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