Always ready for memories
A few weeks back I was reading an article by a photographer who stated he never uses his camera’s lens cap. He always wants to be ready to shoot.
From experience he learned that some moments we can’t prepare for. The moment happens and if we are not prepared we miss it.
The moment doesn’t stop to let you take your camera lens off.
It just happens.
In the twinkle of an eye.
To be candid.
You only get one shot.
A few days after reading that article I was in Costco and noticed a young gentleman carrying a dslr camera on his shoulder.
No case, no cover, no lens cap.
I remembered the article and immediately began walking in his direction.
Tyreik is his name, and he was with his two sons, Nas (named after his favorite rapper), Noah (named after the Biblical figure), and his wife.
“This is my family” (a beautiful thing to see and hear).
I asked Tyreik if there was a reason why he was carrying his camera in this way.
He affirmed my assumption, and added a beautiful story.
He purchased the camera from Costco five years ago when his oldest son Nas was born.
To date, he has 12,000 pictures of his boys.
12,000 memories.
Always ready for memories.
“You just never know”.
As we were speaking Tyreik mentioned his father not being there and I wondered if part of capturing these moments with his family was a way of saying..
“I was there”
“I am here”
Looking at both his sons and grabbing them by the head Tyreik said..
“I have pictures from when they were babies with no hair, all the way to today with their heads full of wooly hair. They don’t understand it now, but when they get older they’ll appreciate it.”
Dad was always there.
Always ready for memories.
Which leads me to wonder, is Tyreik giving the gift or is he receiving the gift?
I can’t tell.
What Giving is Like.
P.S. If you look closely at the picture above, you will see over my father’s left shoulder a Nikon camera strap. Dad was always there.
Always ready for memories.
And if you are ready to join in memories with other givers, you can do so here.
