Alas, Poor Kodak, I Knew You Well
I'm in mourning this morning. I feel like I've lost a very good friend.
This isn't the blog I intended to write — I was going to share a Buddhist poem I wrote a long time ago. But when I tried to take a photo of my Gohonzon to accompany the poem, I discovered my camera would not work. I first thought the batteries must be dead. So I put in a couple of new Energizer lithium batteries and tried again. Nope... she's dead.
That Kodak EasyShare CX7430 digital camera really was a good friend to me. She was a gift from my mom the first Christmas after I came home from prison in 2004. I amused (and occasionally annoyed) everyone in my family with my almost incessant photo snapping. I took that camera to West Virginia, Philadelphia, Atlantic City, Maine, Savannah, Florida, and Chattanooga. I took her to my wedding, to meet Bill and Hillary Clinton, to a number of celebrations, cemetaries, and almost every poetry reading I've ever attended. That camera was my constant companion, faithful and true, always giving, never expecting anything in return but a pair of decent AA batteries. And now she's gone.
Before she closed her shutter forever, she caught this one last glimpse of me this morning:
This isn't the blog I intended to write — I was going to share a Buddhist poem I wrote a long time ago. But when I tried to take a photo of my Gohonzon to accompany the poem, I discovered my camera would not work. I first thought the batteries must be dead. So I put in a couple of new Energizer lithium batteries and tried again. Nope... she's dead.
That Kodak EasyShare CX7430 digital camera really was a good friend to me. She was a gift from my mom the first Christmas after I came home from prison in 2004. I amused (and occasionally annoyed) everyone in my family with my almost incessant photo snapping. I took that camera to West Virginia, Philadelphia, Atlantic City, Maine, Savannah, Florida, and Chattanooga. I took her to my wedding, to meet Bill and Hillary Clinton, to a number of celebrations, cemetaries, and almost every poetry reading I've ever attended. That camera was my constant companion, faithful and true, always giving, never expecting anything in return but a pair of decent AA batteries. And now she's gone.
Before she closed her shutter forever, she caught this one last glimpse of me this morning:
my casio digital cameras tend to last 18 months, so your almost 5 year run is durn gud.
Reply to this
And now, I must join you in mourning her. She's provided a lot of support and encouragement over the months we've been attending and producing poetry readings. What shall we do without her keen eye, and the insights, memories, and celebrations she's provided us? I am observing a moment of silence in her honor.................................................................................................................................................
Ok. Now where's the Buddhist poem?
Reply to this
So sorry, John! It is hard losing something so precious to your heart. But, that is a pretty sweet shot.
Reply to this
you are so in love with you I see, but then who wouldn't be?
What is it with all the beautiful artists always taking self pics? Good self esteem I guess?
Reply to this
Isn't it funny how sometimes these small tokens of appreciation soon to grow to be a big part of our beings? I'm sorry for your loss, John. I know it can't be easy to say goodbye to a friend that's been so near and dear to you though all of the big events of the last five years....
Reply to this
Funny how we come to rely so on these little things...
I will be heartbroken when my Fuji goes. The darned thing is better traveled than I am, having gone on many more international trips with my sister than I have!
And yours has always taken such wonderful pictures too. You must find some way to properly enshrine her.
Adieu, parting is such sweet sorrow...
Reply to this