Page 75 of Grown-Up Second Chance

I’d spent an hour wandering and indulged in an espresso with biscotti before I finally succumbed and went into the camera shop. There were modern cameras as well as a display of antique models, including one with two lenses that I vaguely remembered my mother using occasionally.

Maybe my interest in photography was genetic.

She used to fuss at us for a long time before taking a picture. Film was expensive, and she was not a wasteful woman. Preferring black and white film, her images were sharp, with deep shadows providing contrast and drawing the eye to what she wanted the viewer to see.

As I stood there, I was stunned to realize Mom must have been a gifted, if untrained, photographer. Somewhere in my early teens, though, the camera had found its way onto the shelf and stayed there. I hadn’t thought to ask why.

“Can I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked. Her coarse black hair, held back with a rainbow headband, was streaked with gray, and her face bore the lines of someone who spent a lot of time in the sun.

I liked her immediately.

“I’m thinking about getting a camera,” I said. “I don’t know anything about them, or how to use anything more than my phone, but … I don’t know … I want to do more, whatever that means.” I pointed to the old camera. “My mom had one of those.”

“What kind of phone have you been using?”

I pulled my phone from my pocket and tried to ignore all the smudges on the surface.

“Got it,” she said. “What kind of camera were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

“What do you want to be able to do with it? Take some tourist pictures? Family? Action scenes? Animals and birds?”

The door opened.

“Let me take care of this customer, and I’ll be right back with you. In the meantime, take a look at those photographs on the wall and let me know which one appeals to you.”

I scanned the photos. The styles were quite different, from sharp abstract black and white photos of rock formations, to undulating grasses tickling the knees of a new-born elk calf. There was a traditional photo of Yellowstone Falls, and the wonder of a child as she watched an ant struggle to drag a bread crumb off to its lair.

It was the unusual shots that appealed to me, not the grandiose, recognizable photos, as wonderful as they were. Flowers, a bird resting on a branch, or a bubble in a mud pot right after it burst.

The woman came over to where I was standing as soon as the customer walked out the door.

“I’m Jane,” she said.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Diane.”

“So, Diane, what’s the verdict?”

I pointed out what I liked and why.

She nodded.

“You’re going to need a camera you can control,” she said. “And you’re going to need to learn a lot about basics and how the camera you get works. It will be an investment of time and money. What I would advise is to do some research on the internet to learn about the different kinds of cameras.”

“I’ve been doing that and all I do is go down rabbit holes where things don’t make sense.”

Jane smiled. “I get that. I’m going to give you some sites to use that I think are best for understanding the differences. I’ll also put down some brands and models that will give you what you’re looking for, depending on how much you want to spend.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“Just remember,” she said when she gave me the list. “It takes 10,000 hours to have a new skill become part of who you are. Be patient with yourself. Make mistakes and forgive yourself for them.” She laughed. “At least we have digital now. It’s not nearly so expensive to take bad pictures.”

“Thanks,” I said again.

When I left the store, I was exhilarated with possibilities.

I could do this. I knew I could.

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