We have spent the past week watching old home videos. It’s part of the healing process. Death brings us back to the past, reminiscing, recollecting, and repeating the old stories that we haven’t told in years. And we smile.
Memories are who we are, who we’ve been. Looking back, seeing ourselves for who we were during a specific moment in time, is an eye-opening experience. We aren’t aware of the subtle changes that time brings until we see old photos or videos from five, ten, or fifteen years back.
That’s why I titled this post A Wrinkle in Time. Actually a wrinkle is a huge understatement. There have been several wrinkles, and not just in time. There’s no point denying it. They’re written all over my face.
My daughter suggested the other day that I start taking some photos now in hopes that it will save a lot of anguish later on when I try and find a suitable author photo. I’d kind of like to have an outdoor photo this time. Sounds good. Sounds easy. Snap…snap…snap. Digital cameras—how did we ever survive without them? I mean we can snap hundreds of photos if we need to, crop them just so, and basically change them to suit ourselves. Camera heaven.
However, this I have discovered: while outdoor photos offer many different backgrounds, they also seem to offer more wrinkles in the process. I swear. Tis true. And none of it’s good.
Okay, I’m willing to admit the wrinkles are there. I’m 51; it’s a part of life. I don’t consider myself a vain person, but for the love of God must the wrinkles appear to be so…so crater-like? Seriously. A cruel joke by my calculation. As I told my sister on the phone the other evening, they certainly aren’t that deep when I look in the bathroom mirror. “I believe it’s the digital camera. Maybe it’s on the wrong setting or something.”(I was willing to look for reasons. I’m like that, you know.) My sister calmly replied, “Maybe it’s the lighting in your bathroom.” Thanks sis! I owe you one.
It’s a known fact in this family that I take lousy photos. My kids can verify. I can’t even begin to tell you the horror I put my husband through last time when I suddenly needed a photo for the back of my book. I remember pleading and lamenting, bringing out the big guns as I whined, “I hardly ever ask you for anything.” This was probably hundreds of shots into it, and he was sporting a blister on his index finger. Okay, so the blister is an exaggeration, but you’d have thought he had one the way he protested. I was getting desperate. Every photo looked, shall I say, less than acceptable. One hundred and one weird facial expressions…It seems I could write that book. Back then I had only a week to come up with a decent shot, one I was happy with. Looking back I can’t much blame him. The whole experience was enough to make the most patient person complain. But this time I vow it will be different. I won’t be left scrambling at the end. And if worse comes to worse I’ll use the same photos as on my last novel.
So here’s what we ended up with. The only photo that didn’t show those many wrinkles in time.
What can I say? My daughter made me do it!
Now seriously, the only wrinkles I see in this photo are the wrinkles in my pants and since I’ll only need a head shot… Relax, I’m just kidding.
Hopefully in the months ahead I’ll narrow it down with some decent shots, and while I really don’t like having my photo taken I’m at least going to have a little fun in the process.
Do you have any tips for taking good outdoor photos? I could sure use some help..