by Deborah Parkhill Mullis
I didn't realize how attached I was to my old camera until a salesman suggested I trade it. I bolted out of the store.
I guess it's understandable - we've been together for 13 years. We went to college together, won our first photography contest together, and went on to win four more. Then my son was born. Suddenly, I couldn't shoot anything other than baby's first this and baby's first that. Even so, my camera continued to perform flawlessly as I filled up family albums.
Then in December of 1991 things started going awry. Exactly, why this happened, I'm not sure. Somehow, I feel responsible.
It all started when we made plans to visit New York City for Christmas that year. My grandmother's youngest sister was going to be our guide. New Yorkers walk very fast and Aunt Ruthie was no exception. Knowing our tour would be fast-paced, I decided to buy a zoom lens so I wouldn't have to fumble with changing lenses. This way, I figured I stood I fighting chance of not being abandoned on the streets of New York City while trying to capture them on film.
I found a great deal on a used Canon 28 to 55mm lens at a camera shop in Charlotte. While there I decided to leave my camera to be cleaned and checked. The checking part was just a precaution - I didn't mean to imply my camera had a problem. I only wanted it in top condition for the trip.
I should have had more faith. My camera had never failed me. Imagine my surprise when, in addition to the cleaning fee, a repair charge appeared on the bill!
The first few days in New York City my camera worked fine. I got terrific shots at the Museum of Natural History and Rockefeller Center, from the Staton Island Ferry and the top of the World Trade Center and of Lassen & Hennigs, the German delicatessen my grandfather, Henry Hennigs and his partner Teddy Lassen established in Brooklyn Heights.
However, as we were leaving our hotel to spend Christmas Day with family members - many of whom I hadn't seen in 10 years - my camera's shutter locked. Maybe it was culture shock. My camera had never been out of the South. Or maybe something happened during the cleaning and checking.
I'd made note of a camera store two blocks from our hotel - in case I needed more than the 10 rolls of film I'd brought from home. Hurrying toward the store on Christmas morning, I was hoping the whole way the owner was anything but a Christian.
My prayers were answered - the store was opened. A nice Jewish man stood behind the counter. Unfortunately, he could not repair my camera. Shaking his head, he said parts would have to be replaced - parts he didn't carry. This was the day I became the owner of a $100 instant camera with a fixed lens and a viewfinder. It was better than nothing. I actually got a lot of nice snapshots during the remainder of the trip.
Upon returning home, I put my old camera back in the shop. For a while after that my camera seemed OK but then the shutter started sticking. Reluctantly, I sent it back for more repairs. Soon after its release, it broke down again. A pattern developed. Finally, I retired my old camera, settling for simple snapshots from the instant.
Thus, began my search for a new 35mm singles lens reflex camera. Things have changed in 13 years. Apertures and shutter speeds are digital. I don't own a digital watch and I don't want a digital camera. Focusing is automatic and everything is plastic. I really wanted something similar to my Canon AE-1 - now obsolete. I considered buying a used camera but I might end up with the same problem I have now.
What to do? What to do? Updating what I learned in college concerning cameras and not bonding with inanimate objects would probably help. Remembering the good advice "if ain't broke, don't fix it" wouldn't hurt either.
(This essay was published in 1993 by The Enquirer-Journal of Monroe, NC)
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