I blame my
addiction interest in photography on my parents.
It’s as good an excuse as any, and fits into the standard blame game stereotypically associated with therapists. Though there is some reason behind my fascinations.
My mom had a SLR of some glorious make (I don’t know the model, it got stolen when I was about 13) and all I remember about it was “Cameron, Don’t Touch!”. That being said it was a wondrously heavy piece of glass and metal, that was so much more interesting than using binoculars. You could twist the huge barrel tele-zoom lens and see things (usually birds) that were almost too small to see with the naked eye. “Oh look at the XXXXXX” with a finger pointed at some spec in a tree somewhere… only to be shown a huge difference though the camera. Add the Flash with that stereotypical sound of the flash and subsequent capacitor charging, or the mechanical click of the shutter release on an old analogue SLR and it was quite the experience using it.
Apparently the camera also had a somewhat storied history behind it… Purchased for $100 with the trade in of my mother’s existing camera at Expo ’67 on a cross country road trip by my mother, and her sister.
My dad (the Zoologist) however had something that was just as incriminating. Every year my grandmother would give my father a yearly subscription to National Geographic for Christmas. It would seem that the stack of National Geographic’s my dad had stacked throughout the house would always be taller than I was. But within were amazing photos from around the world. Pictures of Africa, or the Outback (along with stories my dad told of his childhood in the Australia), or amazing shots from the bottom of the oceans.
I still distinctly remember shots of lightning on the African plains on the glossy pages of National Geographic. (It’s something I’ve tried to replicate before.. at least the prairie version).
Anyways this story brought it all back…
No it’s not a photoshoped image….probably just a significantly long exposure…