To Snap Or Not To Snap

Barbara: I do love a good photo. And I do love the idea of having photos to commemorate certain moments in time. How much I actually look at them is up for debate, but I know they are there. And certainly with a tool like iphoto, I can scroll past them quickly, if not exactly linger on them for long nostalgic hours.

But here’s the thing: doesn’t photo-taking completely muck-up the actual thing you’re trying to capture???

Last night, my daughter came home for her high school commencement ceremony (Why in the fall??? That’s a whole other blog rant.). I was soooo excited to see her, as you can imagine. But we had a very tight schedule between her flight arriving, negotiating traffic, wolfing down dinner and getting to the school. Not to mention that my husband, very sadly, had to miss it as he was out of town for business. So we’re scrambling, the two of us, trying to catch up and trying to get out of here in (almost) equal measure.

My friend advises me: take lots of photos. Good plan: I can share them with those who can't be there! …. And then I forget the good camera.

So I pull out my iphone for the big moment and I snap away. And I miss the WHOLE THING!

I mean, I don’t know what they said when she walked up to receive her diploma, I don’t know if she was smiling, I don’t know if she hugged her teacher or shook his hand. Why? Because I’m angling and aiming and contorting to get the right framing. And what do I have to show for it? Maybe the worst photos in the history of photo-taking, these, my only keepsake mementos of a special night.

Who is that and what is she wearing?

Is it a person or a deus ex machina?

She looks so "angelic"

This probably only applies to those big events in a life, like school plays, graduations, concerts, presentations. You know, those events where you’re obliged to keep to a distance while you snap. But the question is: how much life do you miss while you’re “capturing” moments? And do we ever look at those photos later, taken from a long distance, little specks to remind us of that… thing… whatever it was?

You know what photo I wish I had? A close-up of her after the ceremony in her cute dress and surrounded by her reunited friends. Now that I would gaze at.

Deb: I have wrestled with this for years. I am a major photo-taker. Thousands of them in albums (not even kidding), but I have learned over time to pick my moments. When Luke had his grad four years ago, I sat (camera ready) and watched him walk up as they announced his name. The V.P. called out “Lucas Mochrie.” I sat camera ready as he marched up to the mic and proudly said, “Ahhh, that’s Lucas James Mochrie” with a big playful smile. Everyone laughed. I was SOOOOOO glad that I decided to wait for it, wait for it, wait for it ... because I would not have missed that for the world. The “James” in his name is for both Papas who are named Jim. How easy was that decision??? So we had our memory moment in our hearts, and then I snapped him shaking hands with the principal for our viewing posterity! Right after that snap I put the camera down in time to see him raise the diploma in the air and cheer! Another lovely one. Colin and I also take turns at events so that neither of us misses out. But I have to say, I have chilled over the years. Now I take a photo to commemorate the event, not to conflict with it. For that, I have the flip camera if I really need it. The beauty of that is, just turn it on, point it, and ignore it. So I hear you, Barb. This is a lesson I learned a while back. My family is so used to me taking photos, though, and they do endure the pain. Every once in a while, they will moan and I will snap “NEVER MIND, YOU’LL THANK ME FOR THIS ONE DAY!” They chuckle at this now familiar family joke. So there is a case of the picture snapping becoming the memory!

Christmas Photo Families

Deb: When I was growing up my parents always sent Christmas cards. Most people did. It was the thing to do. They had their list of the usual suspects and an extra box waiting nearby in case some lesser friend or neighbour sent an unexpected card. Receiving an unexpected card would send my Mom into a frenzy. The second the surprise card was out of its envelope, my mom was––with split-second timing––signing, addressing, and running to the mailbox to do the Christmas card payback.

We do the same thing now. The little box of cards waiting for their chance to say to someone, “Hey, we didn’t really forget you and it’s not that we don’t like you, it’s just that you weren’t on the list”. After someone sends a surprise card they are on the list forever. They may never send us a card again, but from our end, they have joined the Christmas Card Club.

This year, as every year, we have to update the list to accommodate death, divorce, and relocation. It is an ugly reminder as the year comes to an end of all the changes that have occurred in the past year. But we do it dutifully and we send. We are senders of Christmas Cards, a tradition that is quickly going the way of the 8-track. I know that we should be “e-ing” our cards, but I just can’t break the tradition. I know how much I love getting cards in the mail ... the actual mail. I think it shows that someone cared and made an effort. And for no other reason, it is keeping an old and lovely tradition alive. Hell, we kill enough trees with other stuff.

When I had my own family, it was my turn to indulge in a special part of the Christmas card world that always eluded our family when I was growing up. The photo card! Love the photo cards! When I was a kid I would always look on with envy at people who sent the photo cards. By what Christmas miracle did they pull that together? The family seated around the fireplace all buffed and polished, decked out in their red and green finery, sporting festive smiles. I would stare and stare at the picture, scrutinizing each family member and thinking how I wanted to be in a photo card just once. Because I imagined, it wasn’t just the photo itself that was wonderful. It was the day surrounding it. I would envision them finishing the photo, then gathering around the buffet table for brunch still dressed in their red and green, eating perfect food and looking all the world like the definitive Christmas family.

We never did the photo thing in our family and I don’t know why. It might be because every time a camera rears its lens in my mother’s direction, she screeches, “For Godssake, don’t get me in the picture!” Despite her camera shy demeanor, I did think to myself, “Gee, my brother and I aren’t too horrible to look at, what about us?” Clearly I was deceiving myself. For example, 1966 was a particularly ugly Christmas for me and my brother, so if by some chance that happened to be the year my parents considered making a photo card, our awkward skinny, bad hair, pimply presentation nixed it!

But since then, with the aid of photo retouching and superior acne cream, I have picked up the photo card tradition. We don’t do it every year but we do it once in a while. This year was not an ugly year per say, but it was an ugly hair year for me. I was growing my hair out from very short back to a bob. The photo day in question was NOT a good hair day. Under most circumstances I would have forgone the photo for this year. But ... new puppy trumped my hair and we did the photo. So ...

 From our Family to Yours

 Pee’s on Earth,

 Love, Colin, Deb Luke, Fanny and the Bairn

Barbara: Oh, my beautiful Deb—first of all, I think you look GORGEOUS in your Christmas photo, “bad” hair and all. And I know you know this already, but I LOVE these photos, period. So frickin’ cute I could stare at them all day. Luuuuuuke! And puuuuuuppies!!!

That said, I am a notoriously bad letter and card writer/sender (1. Ask my grandparents, and 2. See this post from June). So Christmas cards, sadly, are not on my list. BUT I love love love getting them (my selfish side on display for all of you).

Luckily, my husband has taken it upon himself to make sure we have a yearly festive photo that he will email out with good wishes. We haven’t done ours yet this year (he’s been crazy-busy), but I hope we can finagle something on time for the BIG DAY.

Beauty is, for the sake of playing fair, I can include a fave here. Stefanie has wanted us to do a really cheesy pose for ages now––which we may yet do––something in the vein of fifties sweater-sets and far-off gazes. But then one man’s cheesy is another man’s super-classy, so it might be tricky…

We will be blogging next week, but I still want to add to today’s cardly sentiments:

Christmas Card 2005

Our family wishes you all the best

Happy Holidays and Much Love and Joy

Barbara, Philippe, Stefanie, Michele, and Chaplin

Just Your Average Swingers

Barbara: I had to work in a stranger’s house the other day. A whole slew of us were hosted by this gorgeous, maybe late 60s woman (age guessed at not by looks—which were FABULOUS—but by age of grown children) and her husband. Well, their place was heavenly, set in a garden-oasis, beautifully manicured, eclectic taste, photos and paintings covering every square inch of wall. The whole place just had a kind of cozy charm. To top that off, the host and hostess watched our work-related shenanigans with elegant grace, only occasionally sidling over to chit-chat and answer our myriad questions about the up-keep of such a magical property as well as proffering photo albums that showed the garden in its various beautiful states and garden-parties filled with happy revelers. It was all so, I don’t know … idyllically normal?? 

But then! Near the end of the day, I had a quiet moment to really look at some of the photos that lined the MAIN hallway—through which, remember, dozens of strangers had already trod––and, yes, there were several of the requisite photos with children and grand-kids and black-and-whites of yesteryear—but smack in the middle of all these, with a true “place of honour” so to speak, was a very large framed photo-collage filled with several images of our gentle host and hostess and their friends in what I can only describe as full swinger-mode! She in hot pants and bikini top, thigh-high suede boots, he (and several of the men) wearing their ladies’ bras. Lots of dancing in the photos, but the grinding kind, you know with (clothed) crotches in people’s faces. Two-on-one kind of action. You get the picture. 

It was one of those stop-you-in-your-tracks moments—where the superficial idea you had of someone suddenly shifts dramatically. Not just because of the swinging, mind, but thanks to the unadulterated (no pun intended) joy in sharing their private fun with all who enter their home—even complete strangers! It kinda made me jealous. Not the swinging part—that’s not my scene—but their freedom from the constraints of “normal” (“normal” in this dictionary meaning that most people wouldn’t necessarily collage and frame their excesses, then hang them in the entrance hall for all to see). And yet these two were all the best parts of “normal”: gracious, kind, and benevolent. As you can see, the whole “affair” really fascinated me! Oh, the many faces of regular life! 

Deb: I love it––photo of the great-great-grandparents, a christening, a grad, some swingers, a baby photo ...”One of these things is not like the others!” Boys and girls, can you find the one that doesn’t fit?