Yesterday, because I don’t really have enough things going on, I had Number 3’s entire baseball team,and their families,over for an end-of-the-season party.
It was kind of a selfish move — I’d much rather have everyone here, instead of loading up all the kids and shlepping them and all their required paraphernalia to the town park. Or beach. Or anywhere else.
And have to skip naps.
The kids had a great time.
They played badminton.
The adults hung out.
And played horseshoes.
And actually sort of relaxed.
And my little guys still got to take their naps.
The coach and his wife took care of all the food stuff. Even manning the barbeque.
So I was free to just, enjoy.
My camera was up in the office charging.
And I left it there.
Part of me felt like I should be taking pictures.
Pointing and clicking until I got that perfect picture.
But I resisted the urge.
I just took one picture.
It’s not very good.
But it’s of Number 3 getting his award. Most improved.
Right after I took it, I looked at it.
It was blurry.
It wasn’t exactly well-composed.
I should take another.
But the moment passed.
And you know what?
Because you know how many pictures I have on my computer, and phone, and facebook?
I haven’t actually developed a single one.
It has been approximately 4 years since I printed out an actual photograph.
And while digital cameras are pretty amazing, they are also pretty annoying.
That instant feedback, and need to keep clicking until every person and object in the picture looks perfect is exhausting.
I miss the days of finishing a roll of film.
You know, one of these?
Back in the day of developing film, you had some self control.
You only had 24 or 36 shots.
You didn’t use all of them on your kid’s first at-bat.
You had to make that shit last.
I have about 2,875 pictures of Number 7 in her high chair with yogurt smeared all over her face.
All from the same sitting.
But not one, single, actual print.
10 years ago, I would have taken one or two.
And then, when the roll was done, I would have rushed down to CVS, and waited with anticipation to pick up that envelope of pictures.
And then a week (or after one-hour photo emerged, an hour) I’d run into the store to get them.
I’d rip that envelope open.
You know, right there by the cash register.
Because you just couldn’t wait to see if you got a “good” picture.
And out of 36, you might get 2 or 3 really good ones.
And that made them all the more meaningful.
And even if the other 33 were crappy, at least you had something tangible.
So yesterday, when the coach’s wife brought the cake out, and then came around to all the moms to let us know she was about to cut it, and we should come take a picture now, I just kind of looked at her.
What the fuck do I need a picture of a cake for?
Would I have taken that picture with a regular, old school, roll of film camera?
I told her I didn’t think I needed one.
And then she said,
“But it has the team record on it.”
“Go ahead and cut it,” I said.
After all, if I decide I really need one, I can always check out Facebook this morning.
Your baseball friends added 357 new photos.
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