Once a month, I meet with writers at the Harwood Place retirement living center, and every so often I get to share one of their stories. Today, I’m excited to introduce Richard Borchers.
Richard is a long-time member of the group and a committed writer. He always brings great stories to the table, including this one inspired by a prompt from Patricia McNair’s daily prompt list.
. . . .
He was never good with the camera.
Graduation from high school was the occasion for getting his very own camera. Congratulatory gifts afforded him a moderately priced “Argus.” Somehow, he just knew it could produce very good slides and prints.
The first roll of film he purchased was returned to the drug store and exchanged for one proper for the camera. With help from a few more experienced “shutter bugs,” he mastered the trick of opening the lid and getting the precious capsule into the little box. He found “f-stop” but wondered, Where is the “f-go?”
The strange, new technology seemed almost beyond comprehension. He thought, If this little machine is going to be my friend, I guess I’d better read the manual.
After several months of shooting pictures, it still was no surprise when a roll of twenty frames would come back from the developer with three or four undeveloped. Did he leave the lens cover on? Was it a double exposure? Why were so many blank? It must be the drug store’s fault!
Sometimes, his camera was left sitting on the shelf, not really forgotten but more like just neglected. But when he was traveling or on vacation, the Argus was always with him. He found joy and satisfaction just to have a few pictures to share when he got home and memories to store away in albums. After some time, his photography skills improved a little bit. Still there were plenty of heads cut off, or legs, or arms, or that favorite uncle who had come a thousand miles just to have his picture taken. Too bad he was at the end of the row instead of in the middle.
However, he has this one incredible shot when everything came together just right.
The occasion was on the trip back from Seattle on the Amtrak. Attempts at taking scenery pictures from a moving train are not likely to be very good, he thought. But there was the camera, lying on the chair next to the bunk where he was sitting. It was primed with the toggle set for taking a panorama. It was beginning to get dark, and the train was speeding through Glacier National Park away from the sunset. Looking out the window over his shoulder, he grabbed the Argus and clicked the shuttle.
Putting it away for the night, he wished he were good with the camera.
. . . .
Over the shoulder and out the window: Glacier National Park
Photo by Richard Borchers
“Happy accidents are real gifts….” ~ David Lynch
I love the imagery evoked by the term “precious capsule.” Back when photography relied on film, those cylinders held both risk and reward!
Risk and reward. Ah, the fun of old-school photography.
The image of Richard’s actual photo that I dropped into the post doesn’t do the picture justice. It’s an absolutely lovely shot, just perfect, and he waited until after he finished reading his story to show us.
Richard’s story is terrific. I laughed out loud when I read: “It must be the drug store’s fault!”
Me too! And, I love the image of the camera sitting on the chair, primed and ready, calling to him in a way.