Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Camera in Crisis

     The word Holland should trigger thoughts of Rembrandt, cheese and chocolate, at the very least. The higher minded might add state-of-the-art flood control, diamonds and legalized weed. But thanks to a mildly dysfunctional family trip to Amsterdam, Holland makes me think of oozing cameras.
     It's a comical memory, although tragi-comedy might be a more accurate description. And my family was so prone to tragi-comedy. My mother's heels were always getting caught in sidewalk grates and she frequently burned holes in her clothes with falling cigarette ashes in the car where the effect was even more dramatic.
     The atmosphere on family trips was always a bit bizaare. For example, in London, my mother said "I'm going to take a nap." My sister said "but I thought we were going toWestminster Abbey." My mother said "why would you want to go there?" (Actually, my mother's favorite expressions were why would you want to do that? And why would you want to go there?)
     So. We are at some building on some plaza with some monument and a fountain in Amsterdam. And my father is taking a picture of his family with this Polaroid camera. I'm not sure why he preferred the Polaroid experience over a "regular" camera with film, but he did. (How wonderful is the digital camera of today!)
     I picture us posing there. Daddy takes the picture, waits the required time, a minute or two, and instead of removing a perfectly developed photograph on that thick layered padded plastic-paper, the camera seems to be melting and that picture with the rest of the film oozes out of the Polaroid in a black stream of sludge all over my father's hands. Then we see our picture dripping onto the Amsterdam square. 
     That's humorous, right? It's classic comedy. Unfortunately, my family did not have a very refined sense of humor. Or was it too refined? These frequent comedies of error were always viewed as tragedies in their eyes. And that's sad.
     After the oozing, the family flurry ensued. We ran around looking for a trash can, looking for a washroom while my mother intones her mantra - why does this always happen to us? My sister and I endure this stoically and there's narry a chuckle in what actually was an hysterical moment. That's sad. Very sad.
     
     

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