Months ago, I vanquished my pint-sized enemy, banishing him to obscurity on my desk. Now, as the temperature soars and BBQ fundraisers demand coverage, I’m discovering that he may be exacting a long-awaited revenge.
Back in November, I inherited a new(ish) camera from a departing reporter. It was sleek, efficient, and functional. It was a godsend.
For five months, I’d been weighed down by my puny, barely-operational camera. Its lens would slam shut for minutes at a time. Its battery died after two hours of use. Its flashbulb sputtered and flickered like it was trapped in the throes of death. I was all too happy to abandon this lousy camera on my desk as I embraced my glorious upgrade.
But now I fear my busted camera has passed on its curse to its successor.
Last weekend was hectic. I darted around Yorkton like a man possessed. I had to cover fundraiser walks, skeet shooting competitions, soccer games, block parties, car shows, and cadet ceremonies. Covering enough events to fill the paper can feel like plugging a dozen leaking holes in a dam with your fingers.
During such times, my camera is my best friend. I needed photos of everything that happened last weekend, but my handheld friend had other ideas.
Things started out fine. I snapped pics all morning without any issues. But when I attended the charity soccer game at Logan Green in the afternoon, something went wrong.
As a habit, I use the auto-focus feature on my camera. It’s easy to take multiple photos of moving subjects when you don’t have to fret over the blurriness of the frame.
As I aimed my camera at a soccer player, the lens didn’t focus. The image was faded and distorted. I pivoted to another player, zooming in close. Same story. The camera refused to focus.
I switched the camera off and on, turning to the goaltender. She was as blurry as everyone else. I looked away from my lens to make sure I wasn’t going blind. Everything on the field seemed crystal clear. My camera was lying to me.
I swapped lenses and tried again. This time the camera focused on the soccer game. I returned to the original lens and it snapped photos in sharp definition. I chalked the blurry episode down as a fluke and returned to my work.
But it was no fluke. The next day, I attended the Cardinals baseball game. As I zoomed in on the pitcher, the lens did not focus on him. I’d left my spare lens at the office, so I was stuck with a blurry-obsessed camera.
I had to manually focus the lens for every shot. I’d carefully layout the picture, slowly bring it into focus, and take a photo...just as the player ran out of the frame. I eventually managed to snag a few decent pics, ending my photography work for the weekend.
Now my camera sits on my desk next to its non-functional ancestor. The sins of the father have been visited upon the son. Perhaps I need to exorcise the blurry demons that reside in my camera, or draw them out like poison from a wound.
My camera will return to its former glory. I won’t let it descend into darkness like its forebear. I will save it.
Mostly because I’m too lazy to focus the lens myself.
