Pictures

Maybe I'm just a bad photographer. I don't think so, really, but pictures never tell the whole story. Maybe they come close, if you're a really first-rate photographer. Today, relaxing at Woodsea Place on Peaks Island, Maine, I finally had the chance to look back through the 1200 or so photos I took over the past month, and some of the hour or so of video that I shot. It was really good to see them. I'll take out the out-of-focus ones, rotate the sideways ones, correct the red-eye in some, and crop others. I'll organize them with tags that will allow me to sort them for various purposes. I'll put some in slideshows for church or family viewings. Others I'll post on Facebook. (Yes, I have a Facebook. I used to be the oldest guy on it, but I am definitely not any longer. If you have one and I don't know about it, please invite me to be your friend!)



Last year when George and I went to Europe for ten days, I also took lots of pictures. I had about 400 on my camera after we had been to Prague, Krakow, Auschwitz, and Berlin. On our first morning in Amsterdam, I was sitting on the bed scrolling through them (gotta love those digital cameras) while George showered, and thinking I was rotating a picture, I had actually pressed a button for formatting the entire disk. I realized it immediately, but it was too late. My entire disk had been wiped clean. All of our pictures lost. (I hate digital cameras!) I was sick -- almost physically nauseous. I couldn't believe how stupid I had been! I was afraid to tell George, but when he came out of the shower he could see that something was wrong. I told him, and immediately started beating up on myself for my stupidity.



George came to my rescue. With wisdom beyond his then 19 years, he said, "Dad, forget about it. This is not about the pictures. It's about the experience." I always thought it was supposed to be the dad saying smart stuff like that. He was right, of course. And we decided not even to bother with pictures for the rest of the trip. (What happened in Amsterdam stayed in Amsterdam!) Turned out it was good that we didn't even try, because a data recovery expert was able to get the pictures back once we got home, but if we had gone ahead and used the camera to take more pictures after the disk had been erased, we probably would not have been able to recover them. Thank you, Jesus, and thank you, George.



I do love to look back at pictures of my experiences. While they never totally capture the experience, they do help me to relive at least parts of experiences that might otherwise be lost to my alleged memory.



But back to my pictures of Africa. What I most love about those I saw today are the pictures of children. You can't go to Africa without noticing the children. There are children everywhere, which, I'm told, is the result of the very high birthrate in most African countries. (That was a joke, okay?) I went to Africa to see children -- in schools particularly. But even if I hadn't, children would definitely have been a theme. I especially noticed today the pictures of children in the schools of Korogocho, one of Nairobi's largest slums. I can't believe the smiles I see on their faces. They obviously don't know any better yet. I'm also aware that some of the children I saw and hope I never forget, I do not have pictures of -- children like Nicholas, the little boy we met on the roundabout in the center of Nairobi who was trying to raise money for his school uniform. There were also days when my camera had not sufficiently recharged overnight (usually because the electricity had gone out) and I didn't get photos at certain times and places.

So, my memory will be distorted in some ways by the pictures. I'll try not to be dependent on them for what I have seen and heard and learned. George was right, it's not about the pictures. It's about the experience.