All of the events I am about to describe are true. I say this because they don’t sound true. They sound exaggerated for effect, embellished for the sake of humor. They sound that way even to me, I think because there’s a part of my brain that wants to believe in my own ability to learn from my mistakes. Nobody, I tell myself, could be that stupid that many times while attempting to accomplish the same simple task. “Oh yes someone could,” another part answers defiantly.
The simple task I’m referring to is the act of videotaping an event. I’m not sure it’s even called that anymore. Tape is pretty much gone, replaced by digital. But we don’t own a digital video camera, because I gave up long ago trying to record anything. I voluntarily resigned as part of an agreement among all interested parties: I would stop trying to record things and they would never again mention my earlier attempts. I have kept my end of the bargain.
It began in the early 1990s. We owned a camcorder at the time. Now I believe the term camcorder is still in use and may bring to mind a tiny, sleek, handheld electronic marvel. That’s not what this was. Our camcorder weighed a hundred and eighty-two pounds. It held a VHS videotape, which had to be loaded into a compartment that opened to the side like one of those RVs with a slide-out living room. If you wanted to tape something, you had to press RECORD three or four seconds ahead of time, because the signal had to travel from the button to the other end, where the tape was. I believe our camera was the same model used for the McCarthy hearings in 1954.
Okay. You get it. Our camcorder was old. And big. If we were taking it on an airplane today, it would probably not be allowed as a carry-on item. We might even get arrested. We still have the camera, despite my best efforts over the decades to sell, donate, and throw it away. (I was going to launch into a short discussion on hoarding right here, however I am prohibited from doing so by another one of those agreements. The inclusion of the photo above is all I am legally permitted to do.)
But I’ve stalled long enough.
The year is 1999. We buy a new video camera, a Hitachi Hi-8. It’s a good enough camera that I’m thinking about trying my hand at some professional video. The tape itself is just a little larger than an audiocassette; the entire unit is smaller than a football.
The following June, our son graduates from kindergarten. We’d done some casual taping during the previous months: Christmas morning, a big snowstorm, a trip to the beach. But the graduation is the first real event we’d be recording for future viewing, the initial installment in our family library of memories. The ceremony takes place in the main room of the school. The students are assembled at the front, with all of the parents on chairs facing them. My wife and I are seated in the middle of the crowd. It’s a packed house and we’ve gotten there early so we could get a good spot. About two minutes in, I realize that I’ve left the video camera in the other room. It’s awkward having to get up and disturb half the audience, but I know it’s either a minute of embarrassment or years of regret, so I leave to get the camera. When I return to my seat, I turn the camera on and begin recording. As significant events take place, I turn the camera on and off to capture each precious moment. Then, about ten minutes before the end of the graduation, a thought enters my mind, the kind of thought that you turn away from at first, refusing to even consider the possibility. But when I turn back, it’s still there, bigger and more ominous. I can still recall the feeling, a dark hollowness in my stomach combined with a loud thumping in my chest, followed immediately by a silent wish for a quick and painless death. I had forgotten to put a tape into the camera.
There’s no need to go into any detail about what followed the kindergarten incident. I probably did most of the talking anyway, babbling away about what an idiot I was, but also trying to look at it realistically: How many vacations have gone unrecorded because someone forgot to put film in their camera? A lot. And really, how many people have video of their own kindergarten graduation? Almost nobody. In the scheme of things, this was no big deal.
Months later. We’re at home, an old farmhouse surrounded by an acre of land. I look out the window and there’s a flock of doves on the lawn. Twelve doves, walking around together in the grass. I run for the camera, making darn sure there’s a tape inside, rewound and ready to go. I press RECORD and point the camera toward the birds. They appear to be circling the house, so I run from room to room, following them, describing the scene, doing the play-by-play. When I get around to the kitchen, I sneak outside, hoping to get a closer shot. The doves take off. But okay, I still have the footage of the parade around the house. I rewind the tape, plug the camera into the television, call everyone in, and announce what I have captured. They sit, eager to see. I press PLAY. The screen remains black. Then I hear my voice, hushed for added drama: “Today is September second. It’s eleven-thirty in the morning… and doves, a dozen of them… are marching around our house… I’ve never seen these birds here before… and now there are twelve of them… like some kind of migration…” The audio continues to play, but without any video. I hold out my hands, bewildered. Then I look at the camera. The lens cap had been on the whole time. I mentally add this to the list of things I need to remember when using the video camera. Everyone gets up and leaves quietly.
December, two years later. Our son’s third grade Christmas concert at school. My wife and I are seated in the back of the room, against the wall. There are a lot of people in front of us. For some reason that I cannot fathom, she has the video camera and she insists on taping the whole thing. Then, just as our son’s class comes onto the stage and gets ready to sing, the guy sitting in front of my wife stands up to take pictures. He remains standing. (It’s Vanessa’s father. I’m not at all surprised.) My wife’s view is completely blocked. I’m to her right and she hands the camera to me. I take the camera and aim it at the stage. I get a good ten minutes of footage. I also tape the class that comes on next, and the concert ends. Now what happened there? I know you missed it, because I missed it the first time, too. Let’s rewind the tape, so to speak, and play it again in slow motion. My wife has the camera. She’s taping away, when suddenly the man in front of her stands. She lowers the camera and hands it off to me, but as she does, she presses STOP. See that? But here’s the key point: she presses STOP and doesn’t tell me. The camera’s power is still on. I hear a whirring sound. I just take the hand-off and resume taping. But I don’t press RECORD, because really, why would I even think to do that? My wife has been recording the whole time. So we get home and watch the video and the last thing we see is Vanessa’s father standing up. It’s the previous class singing something, then the back of a giant head, then fuzz. Gray, hissing fuzz.
No real harm done, I rationalize. Those school concerts are painful enough the first time. How many people actually go home and watch them again?
Eight months later. Our son’s birthday party. Same old farmhouse, and inexplicably, I have the video camera in my hand. But instead of twelve doves, I’m chasing around a dozen little boys, outside, all over the yard, back inside, up and down the stairs. Each time I see something worth preserving I say, “Hold on, guys, I want to record this.” I should mention that all of the buttons on the camera are pretty much in the same place and I have somehow fallen into the unwise habit of pressing them without looking. As my videographer mind recognizes a valuable scene, I simply shift my thumb over and press RECORD. Then, when the action subsides, I press STOP. Now there’s probably no need to tell you this part, but something has gone wrong right from the beginning. I accidentally pressed RECORD before there was anything going on that was worth recording. From that moment on, each time I think I’m starting to record, I’m actually stopping. And each time I think I’m stopping, I’m recording. See the mix-up? So when the boys do a dance or play soccer or say something funny, there is no recording taking place. But when I follow them up the stairs, I get great shots of my knee and the wall flying by. You can also hear me saying things I should not have been saying at a birthday party, usually followed by, “Okay, guys, I’m going to start recording now.” Then the gray, hissing fuzz again.
And that’s why we don’t have a digital video camera.
Betty Londergan
July 20, 2010
this is absolutely HILARIOUS! and i have to tell you — i, too, should have been banned from taping anything, not because there is no resulting film, but because I am constitutionally incapable of not giving relentless, unstoppable, unnecessary commentary which makes everything I’ve filmed absolutely unwatchable — even for me, and I LOVE the sound of my own voice. I feel your pain — but I just couldn’t stop laughing!
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bronxboy55
July 20, 2010
But at least you can turn down the sound and probably still have something to watch. Your use of the word “filmed” reminded me of those old movie cameras with the blinding lights. That was fun, too.
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Julia Harris
July 20, 2010
I laughed until tears spouted out of my eyes. Each one of your attempts is so different from the other and yet each one has the same tragic result. Ah, Charles, how awesome this post is. I only laugh because, of course, I’ve been there. Not to mention the annoying commentary that I provide while filming, because I think I’m so clever. Great shots of your knee and the wall flying by! Save those. Someday they probably still won’t mean anything, but they’ll be funny. You’re awesome.
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bronxboy55
July 20, 2010
Thank you, Julia. I’m glad you can relate. And I’m glad to hear that maybe I’m not completely alone in my struggles with the simpler things.
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cooperstownersincanada
July 20, 2010
This is hilarious. Thanks for sharing this. I had similar problems in Journalism school. I was traditionally the on camera reporter for fear of screwing up the taping.
Another excellent article!
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bronxboy55
July 20, 2010
Well, I guess I’m not the only one. Thanks, Kevin!
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heidit
July 20, 2010
I have to say, this was ridiculously funny. I’m sorry that you’ve had such horrendous experiences with video cameras, but I’ll share a story so you don’t feel so bad. It’s not about me, but it may help you feel better.
It was high school graduation. My best friend’s father decides to bring the video camera to record the ceremony. He decides, (for reasons that will be debated until the end of time) to record the ENTIRE ceremony, which included some long-winded ridiculous speeches about alcoholism and drug abuse. At one point on the recording you can hear him and his wife arguing about the value of taping this and her telling him he’s wasting the battery on stupid speeches.
You see where this is going? Literally as my best friend is in the wings–she is the very next person to walk onto the stage to accept her diploma–the battery dies. All you see is her first step on the stage.
My problem with video cameras is this: I know many people who were so caught up in trying to record the moments for posterity that they didn’t take the time to enjoy the moment as it happened. Yeah, it’s nice to see things recorded every so often, but my family has tons of tapes we’ve only watched once. That’s it. Sometimes, it’s just better to take in the moment around you and commit it to memory, rather than missing the moment while you try to record it.
Having said that, I’m glad you shared your story with us. It made me laugh and I needed a good laugh.
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bronxboy55
July 20, 2010
I love that you can hear them arguing on the graduation video. You know, Heidi, I really do feel better after reading these comments. And I agree with you that trying to record an experience can cause you to miss it entirely — even if the recording works perfectly. I never take any video equipment on trips. Not that I would be allowed to.
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Amiable Amiable
July 26, 2010
OH MY GOD! I just scared the cat from laughing so hard! Actually, I can’t see what I’m typing right now because I’ve laughed so hard I’m crying! Personally, I can’t show you any of the cute things my boys did when they were little, but I can show you the color of every carpet in every room of our house thanks to our videos. Thanks for the great laugh! And your photo and caption are hysterical!!!!
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bronxboy55
July 26, 2010
Your mention of the carpet reminded me of all those weird photos I’ve gotten back after having film developed. There was always one of a foot, or the floor, or something completely unrecognizable. At least we don’t have to deal with that anymore.
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Amiable Amiable
July 27, 2010
Honestly, now just reading the post’s title makes me crack up! When describing photos taken by my husband, I usually say something like, “To the right of the giant finger is Aunt Suzy, Uncle Bob is behind it.” Then we have my mother who would hold the camera backwards and blind herself with the flash. And I want my son to bring a camera with him on his trip? Maybe not!
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bronxboy55
July 27, 2010
The great thing about digital, though, is you can erase the unwanted pictures right away, before anyone else sees them. And you can keep trying until you get it right. I really hope your son takes a camera. He’ll never regret having those pictures, no matter how bad they are.
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Jac
November 10, 2010
This is so funny because our first trip to PEI was right after we bought our handy little camcorder.
Do you remember when we were leaving, how Chris stormed off because he didn’t want to leave Allison and Meaghan? He was trying to talk us into letting him stay and then flying home. He was 14 at the time. Anyway, we got his angry little self into the van and drove off. I was in front, videotaping the lovely scenic drive from your house out to the main road. I was doing a little commentary, too, and discovered something very interesting when we watched it about a year or so ago. What you couldn’t really hear on the recording must have been Chris grumbling and most likely, cursing his teenage head off. All of a sudden, right in the middle of my lovely commentary, with beautiful scenes passing by, you can hear me yell “SHUT UP, CHRISTOPHER!!!!” (Keep in mind that I was pregnant with my 7th. child at the time…) We laughed so hard that we kept rewinding and playing that few seconds over, and over, and over again.
I think I have since recorded over this evidence of my verbal abuse against Chris because the boys were in a skate contest and at the last minute, I realized I didn’t have a tape or time to go buy one.
Or I was destroying the evidence. Whatever.
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bronxboy55
November 11, 2010
I remember the incident before you left, but obviously didn’t know what went on in the van later. But this is exactly the kind of thing that makes me wonder how people capture such unbelievable and unexpected scenes on their cameras — they’re all over TV and YouTube. It takes me three tries to record a building, and it isn’t even moving. (Before you ask, I don’t know when I’ve ever tried to record a building. I was just making a point by exaggerating. I’m sure I could record a building if I had to. Almost sure.)
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Margaret Reyes Dempsey
February 26, 2011
I used to feel incredibly guilty that I wasn’t taping and photographing as much as the other parents. But I always felt like I wasn’t in the moment when I was focusing on taking footage and that bothered me more. I decided that a quick snippet and a few photographs of any occasion is more than enough. It jump starts the memory and allows the imagination to fill in the missing pieces. That’s how I prefer it.
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bronxboy55
March 1, 2011
I agree, Margaret. I can’t remember the last time I even tried to record something. It’s always intriguing to see people with a video camera recording a sign, a statue, or some other stationary object for minutes at a time. I usually think ahead a few weeks to the poor souls who will have to watch that, and I’m suddenly glad all over again that my video career is over.
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claywatkins
July 11, 2012
I have a camcorder and bought it about the same time you did…. I am in the same boat… recently switched to a Flip camera which is out of business as well… what will I do with all of this stuff? I try to pick moments that are worhtwhile, but worthwhile in one moment is….
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bronxboy55
July 11, 2012
I’ve retired from video recording, Clay. I guess banned would be more accurate. I don’t even know what a Flip camera is.
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susielindau
July 11, 2012
Oh my god this is so funny. It brought back so many memories! The lens cap got us many times. Even with my digital, I record when I think it has stopped and vice versa. User error is the one constant even though the camera has changed!
Great post and thanks for sharing it at the party! Ooops! There’s the doorbell!
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bronxboy55
July 12, 2012
Thanks for inviting me, Susie. I hope you’ll do it again.
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susielindau
July 12, 2012
Next month!
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susielindau
July 12, 2012
Next month! So glad you came with a link!
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Julia
July 11, 2012
This is so funny. Oh man have we been there. Of course, the time we remembered to turn on the camera was the day our son, 5 and on training wheels, had a bloody crash. Recorded for all time.
Love this story. Thank you to Susie for the link
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bronxboy55
July 12, 2012
I wonder how many times your son has watched that video.
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The Blissful Adventurer
July 11, 2012
This is good stuff. I think if you have a succession of these kinds of stories they would make a great book. Reminds me of David Sedaris without the overarching cynicism.
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bronxboy55
July 12, 2012
I tried overarching cynicism once, Michael, but I ended up hurting my back. Also, I do have a book of selected blog posts — Who Knew? — which I published in November 2011:
Thank you for the kind words.
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The Blissful Adventurer
July 12, 2012
I must check out your book. We should talk Italy/Sicily at some point. It is my other home
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marydpierce
July 11, 2012
I loved this. It made me laugh, because it’s well written and funny. But, partly because of the recognition factor. No one in my family even lets me hold a video camera anymore!
So glad Susie threw her party and I got to meet you.
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bronxboy55
July 12, 2012
Thanks, Mary. I feel the same. And about the video camera: It’s about time we let someone else mess up for a change.
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mcolmo
July 11, 2012
I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees owning a video camera as something completely useless… (by the way, Susie sent me)
🙂
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bronxboy55
July 12, 2012
You may not be the only one, but judging by the number of videos on YouTube and all of the television shows featuring amateur footage, you and I may be part of a tiny minority. Thanks for the comment, Marielba.
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Lily Paradis
July 12, 2012
This post is hilarious! I may not be old enough to remember the first one you talked about, but I do remember dropping my father’s camcorder in a drain at Sea World when I was four. This is because it was probably bigger than I was at the time, and needless to say, our vacation memories never recovered because the tiny little VHS tape wasn’t waterproof. So now he shares your sentiments, and I don’t think I’ve seen a video of myself at a family event since!
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bronxboy55
July 12, 2012
Some part of me thinks I’ve let too many events go unrecorded. Our ability to document every moment of life can be overdone, but it can still be a valuable tool. We just need to avoid becoming obsessive. And we need to know how to use the camera.
You probably have no memory of that trip to Sea World, do you?
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newsy1
July 12, 2012
I had that same huge relic that you had. My husband carried it all over Mexico and got mad when I told him he looked worse than a tourist. God I hated that huge bulky thing. Do we even watch those tapes ever? Of course not. My digital camera is now my friend, one click and the bad photos are gone. Love your blog, I hopped over from Susie’s party.
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bronxboy55
July 14, 2012
Your husband must have been in great shape. And I feel the same way about digital cameras. With film, I couldn’t take a decent picture to save my life.
I’ve met some really nice people from Susie’s post, including you. I hope we’ll keep in touch.
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