My little Canon PowerShot suffered a fatal accident last week. I thought I had lost it once before when the retractable lens wouldn't open, but my husband was able to cure it. This time there seems to be no hope. I was sitting on my heels, taking a closeup picture of a flower on my deck. My super-loving new dog wanted some affection and he nudged my hand. Though the camera was attached to me with the wrist strap, it had enough freedom to fall out of my hand and hit the deck with a sharp thwack. It powered off (with the lens open) and won't power back on. The Canon helpline suggests that I trade it in on a refurbished model. I think I'll hold out for a new one.
So how is the loss of my camera a blessing? I'm sure it is, but I'm not sure exactly how. What I am sure of is that the photos I took with it between August of 2010 and last week are a blessing to me. The first week I had the camera, I took over 250 pictures. We were on vacation and attended a family reunion during that week, so there were more than 250 moments I wanted to preserve, beginning with this image of a chilled glass of wine on the lakehouse porch.
and ending with this one of my grandchildren on the mountaintop at Montreat.
I didn't continue that pace of 250 photos a week, but I did average almost 60 a week. I wish I could say that I learned a great deal about photography with all that practicing, but I can't. What I can say is that I had a lot of fun and preserved a lot of memories.
My camera wasn't a Kodak, but this commercial from 1977 says it well.