About a year ago, my dear and trusted little point-and-shoot camera broke. Not totally broke, but damaged in such a way that sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Given the rapid evolution of technology, I suppose my 11-year-old camera should have been put out to pasture long ago, but it’s a sweet thing that’s been my regular companion on many adventures (like France) and still takes lovely photos — when it decides to cooperate.
As backup, I’ve resorted to using my iPhone for picture-taking, which is fun and makes me feel like I’m participating in the 21st century. But it is not a camera camera — even if it makes that clicky noise when I push its button — and I’ve had a camera camera in my pocket for as long as I can remember.
Two weeks ago, I finally broke down and bought a new camera camera, a Canon PowerShot A1400 with a nifty zoom feature and a wide-angle lens. AND it has a view finder — happy dance — which makes framing and seeing subjects a lot easier than a backlit screen in sunlight.
Alas, there are things my new camera camera cannot do:
It cannot send emails.
It cannot make phone calls.
It cannot access the internet.
It cannot receive text messages.
And so it was that I found myself yesterday on one of my first adventures with my new camera camera, walking in the about-to-be-spring woods.
I could not send emails.
I could not make phone calls.
I could not access the internet.
I could not receive text messages.
Which is not to say that I regularly send emails or make phone calls while I am enjoying my walks, but with the iPhone there is the ever-present possibility of those connections. There is the constant seduction of technology right at my fingertips, the buzz and ding of incoming — INCOMING! — chatter. The familiar impetus to leave here and be somewhere else, even if here is the most glorious place I could be.
Yesterday, I left my iPhone at home. It was just me and my camera camera and the most quiet walk I have enjoyed since June.