Sayonara, Summer
‘Tis true that summer doesn’t end for almost two weeks, but this evening we bid summer an official adieu after our final afternoon at the pool. By we, I’m referring to Emma, Kate and I, who spent our last moments on the diving board, the water slide and the three-foot steps before we again broach the crystal depths in May ’07.
So what should the feeling be as we move our minds into fall? Should there even be a feeling or should we just do the next thing that comes up? I’m not sure I want to create a photo album of the summer, or pitch a marker to officially celebrate Kate’s graduation to the big pool from the kiddie pool, or the throwing off of Emma’s training wheels. We’re not really photo or video people here, and I don’t know if it means we’re unsentimental or not. Our failure to take full advantage of image capture technology is long-lasting: we went on our honeymoon in August and didn’t finish the roll of film in the camera until Christmas.
In Annie Dillard’s essay, “Seeing,” which I had not read until it was required of me this summer, she wrote of the dispensability of the camera, its tendency to distort experience into something it’s not. I’ve always shared that sentiment in some way. I’ve never felt, “Oh, the girls look so cute today, all dressed up for the beach. I need to take a picture to show Grandma.” In fact, I’ve thought just the opposite, no offense to Grandma. I have felt, “This moment is a very nice moment to behold, and I’d like to store it myself for what it is, and I won’t take a picture to try to resuscitate what I’m feeling right now.”
But maybe that’s just my generation, or even just my crowd. It can’t really be my generation, because of the number of parents who have the digital camera or video camera as fixtures around their necks at first days of school, soccer games and brises. And if webshots and photobucket and such didn’t belong to the other generation, then I’m sure lots of parents would post those pictures all over the place so that everyone could share the joy in their moments. Perhaps I’m just selfish.
If anyone asks you what freewriting is, tell them this is. I meant to write about the pool and the ends of eras, and I ended up where I ended up. Go figure.
‘Tis true that summer doesn’t end for almost two weeks, but this evening we bid summer an official adieu after our final afternoon at the pool. By we, I’m referring to Emma, Kate and I, who spent our last moments on the diving board, the water slide and the three-foot steps before we again broach the crystal depths in May ’07.
So what should the feeling be as we move our minds into fall? Should there even be a feeling or should we just do the next thing that comes up? I’m not sure I want to create a photo album of the summer, or pitch a marker to officially celebrate Kate’s graduation to the big pool from the kiddie pool, or the throwing off of Emma’s training wheels. We’re not really photo or video people here, and I don’t know if it means we’re unsentimental or not. Our failure to take full advantage of image capture technology is long-lasting: we went on our honeymoon in August and didn’t finish the roll of film in the camera until Christmas.
In Annie Dillard’s essay, “Seeing,” which I had not read until it was required of me this summer, she wrote of the dispensability of the camera, its tendency to distort experience into something it’s not. I’ve always shared that sentiment in some way. I’ve never felt, “Oh, the girls look so cute today, all dressed up for the beach. I need to take a picture to show Grandma.” In fact, I’ve thought just the opposite, no offense to Grandma. I have felt, “This moment is a very nice moment to behold, and I’d like to store it myself for what it is, and I won’t take a picture to try to resuscitate what I’m feeling right now.”
But maybe that’s just my generation, or even just my crowd. It can’t really be my generation, because of the number of parents who have the digital camera or video camera as fixtures around their necks at first days of school, soccer games and brises. And if webshots and photobucket and such didn’t belong to the other generation, then I’m sure lots of parents would post those pictures all over the place so that everyone could share the joy in their moments. Perhaps I’m just selfish.
If anyone asks you what freewriting is, tell them this is. I meant to write about the pool and the ends of eras, and I ended up where I ended up. Go figure.
posted by Mike McAteer @ 8:58 PM
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