I took my OM System TG-7 for a walk today. I purchased the point-and-shoot compact camera on a whim from KEH. It’s the ruby apple red one that caught my eye almost a year ago. Leave me to my own devices during a bout of depression, and I will drain my bank account to fill in the void.
I planned to take it out on a walk at work this morning. During the summer, there are significantly fewer students lurking about, which makes me feel less creepy snapping pictures around campus. My intended subjects were the cats that linger around the education complex, but work let the morning get away from me. A shame because I also packed my Olympus E-M5 with my 40-150mm lens.
We had a nice rainfall today. It brought the South Texas summer heat down to the upper 70s, a short respite from the triple-digit weather we’ve been having lately. Sadly, the summer rain made the air thick with humidity.
I headed for my usual test areas to see what the TG-7 could do. Walked through my childhood park where I snapped a few photos for the Facebook group, Peeling Paint Appreciation Society. The sheen of rainwater coating the rusted metal of the park’s irrigation system made for interesting photographs.
I tried the camera’s microscope mode to see what I could capture. Not bad for rain on flowers or making the smallest petals fill the screen.
The park’s grass and soil were too wet to step off the sidewalk, so I headed for the church. I cut through the path along the church and its classroom building – this was where I spent my Catholic childhood learning about the Bible while questioning everything being told to me. At the front of the church stands a waterless fountain and a statue of Jesus. I normally test out new cameras and lenses here because objects don’t move or mind the practice. Besides, people aren’t my preferred subjects. I like the lifeless and the feline (and the occasional canine and squirrel).
My path to the Jesus statue caught someone’s eye. My own fault, because I rubber-necked my focus toward one of the open classrooms as I walked by.
I removed an earbud to hear what he was saying to me. A question: “Do you want me to take a picture of you with him?”
I understood his question, but I still turned my head to see if Statue Jesus was the only person nearby.
“No, thank you. I’m just testing out a new camera’s capabilities,” I responded. I wanted to add that I chose the church because it had the most to photograph and the least people milling around. Also, after the rain, it had the driest surface to kneel on.
Because people are usually curious about photographers – amateur or otherwise – I showed him the photos I had taken of the statue and some of the flowers around the church.
He introduced himself as one of the deacons and gave me his name. It was a familiar one.
“Oh, you’re still around,” I said. “I knew your son. In fact, I remember you from when I came to CCD as a child.”
He smiled and apologized for not remembering me after I gave him my name. “It was such a long time ago,” I said, “I was probably this tall—” held my hand about two feet off the ground— “the last time you saw me.”
We spoke a while about faith and how god has a plan for us all. How my “need” to come to church that day was him calling me home. I didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. How the church was just the most convenient location to walk without being encumbered by children on bicycles, other walkers/joggers/runners, and, of course, getting side-eyed by others for having a camera in my hand.
He asked me if I wanted to see inside the church from my childhood, which had been converted into the parish hall. I would love to take a stained-glass window photo.
“There’s a meeting inside, but we can peek inside. The guys will be happy to see me.”
Well, I already agreed.
The building had changed in the years I lapsed in faith. The high ceiling was replaced by a lower tiled one. The renovation included adding a second floor for classes – uncertain if those classes were for young Catholics or the adults. Tables in the center of the floor were arranged in a horseshoe shape with every seat filled in and facing the center. A few looked our way as the deacon spoke to me about their discussion: “They’re planning an all-men retreat (Interesting.) where they will grow their relationship with Jesus (Less interesting.). You’re welcome to join them if you want. It’s a small fee.”
The longer we stood there talking, the more attention we drew to ourselves. The camera hanging from my wrist didn’t help. One of the men approached us and introduced himself to me. He gave me the rundown of what the retreat entails, when and how long it would last. I did my best to smile and remain as polite as possible. A part of me feared I had found myself in a trap and I would be wrangled up and be given a place at one of the tables. But I still have so much distance to cover on my photo walk.
In the end, however, the deacon escorted me back into the humidity outside, and we stood on the steps I recalled looming higher as a child. He covered a few moments in his and his son’s life; information too private to divulge here.
“Well, Guillermo, I’ll ask my son if he remembers you. If you were his friend, I’m sure he will.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his son was one of my high school tormentors, though we had started as friends as children. We parted ways and headed to the third location I use for camera testing – the courthouse.
The camera itself is superb. It’s lightweight and fits into my pocket, a perfect everyday carry. It’s a twelve-megapixel camera, which is less than my fourteen-year-old Nikon CoolPix S6300. Still, it does have features that outmatch that compact camera, though I don’t foresee myself taking it underwater any time soon; I just like having the option.
And while I did not get to test it out in all my usual spots as my conversation with the deacon ate most of the dying daylight I had to begin with, I still think this was a nice purchase. Maybe I’ll find myself wandering the streets of Brownsville in the near future. During my last trip there, I took the CoolPix with me and managed some decent shots of Dodici Pizza + Wine’s courtyard.
My one regret with the deacon yesterday was not asking him if I could take a picture of him in his element. Oh well, he invited me to church.
Cue the Hozier.
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