I’ve always been obsessed with getting good vacation photos.
Prior to digital cameras, and way before cellphones or the word selfie, I used to take several rolls of film and my 35 mm camera on trips.
I often got the photos developed while on a trip to make sure they turned out. I know this baffles young people, who are used to just looking at a screen to see photos right after they take them.
Sometimes I realized my camera settings were all wrong for the beach, for example, so I’d take more pictures.
I have a framed photo of my 26-year-old on his first trip to the beach when he was about 3. He’s running happily out of the ocean, or “the big whimming pool,” as he called it. It’s precious.
After I developed all my pictures on a vacation, I’d buy a photo album while I was there and fill the pages on the way home as my husband drove.
If you think that’s a little obsessive-compulsive, you’re right.
On the recent trip my husband and I went on with our older son and daughter-in-law, I was amazed at how many pictures the “kids” took on their phones. My DIL also has Snapchat, and she would put captions on the photos she took on her phone, or dress up our pictures with things like dog ears.
I took my son’s hand-me-down digital camera. I was determined to get some good photos of all four of us, which meant asking strangers to take our picture.
I ran into this when my husband and I went to New Orleans a couple of years ago. I wanted a photo in front of a special painted piano in the lobby of our hotel. When someone is nice enough to take a photo for you, it’s hard to be too picky. But I am. Over and over, people took pictures of us from 40 yards away. I would wait until that person walked away, and I would ask someone else. My long-suffering husband just kept smiling.
At one point, I asked a woman who had a crossed eye. Now not to make fun of a physical disability, but of all people to ask ….
Hers didn’t turn out so well.
Finally, we did get a perfect picture from a woman from Indiana or somewhere.
In Florida, we took pictures one windy night after dinner when the beach was nearly deserted. A woman in her 60s, I’d say, jumped up and offered to take a picture of our group. As her caftan blew in the breeze, she directed all our poses — and wanted no suggestions.
“Face me, then look down the beach,” she said. We all felt stupid looking longingly down the beach, and we were laughing.
Then she exclaimed that the moon was out, so she crouched down and shot up to get the moon in the frame. Our heads and necks were sort of in the picture, too.
We thanked her, and walked away. It was a weird experience.
When we were out of her line of sight, I asked someone else to take our picture. He was from Alaska, and he did OK, but my DIL was sinking in the sand, so she looked extra short.
The next night, I was still determined to get a better picture. We sneaked around caftan lady, and I asked a nice woman relaxing in a chair next to her husband if she would do us a favor.
She and her husband, who were friendly and funny, were from Grenada, Mississippi. I briefly told them about caftan lady, so the husband stood behind his wife and made jokes about howling at the moon as she took pictures.
A couple of them turned out great, and I’m going to frame them.
As we walked back to our condo, we saw caftan woman’s husband throwing food into the air while she photographed the seagulls. I’m sure she got a great shot, and maybe the moon was in it, too.
Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.