They give us the greens of summers..
Makes you think all the world's a sunny day, Oh yeah..
I got a Nikon camera I love to take a photograph,
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away...
Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away
Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away
Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away...
My mama would never do that. She's nicer than your mom. I'M KIDDING, RELAX! (But she WAS very nice!)
I'm here to tellya the normal crud an old fogie (or, "OG" as my son calls me) usually complains about...
The dadburn weather... My arthritis, bursitis, gastritis... And, the Government.. the Gol' durn Government.
We've been on this Earth since the Korean War, before man walked on the moon, heck, Babe Ruth even held the record for homers back when we were in cloth diapers. Bottomline, we've been here hella.
Picture this...
I miss pictures. Oh, I know, we pass around the damn camera.. gotta figure out if we scroll left/right, or right/left, or down/up, or up/down, and by the time we get all that figured out - the phone has been through it's allotted delay and we gotta asked the owner of the Iphone, Android, Samsung, Apple, OnePlus, LG, "howinthehell do we get it back so we can see the pictures?"
I am somewhere in-between the granny you see using whiteout on the computer screen, and the cranky old fart who gripes for 7 months any time there is an IT 'enhancement.'...OK, I chopped down the Cherry Tree, and that's me, the guy that gripes for 7 months.
I miss pictures.
Our children's children's children? How can we know, electronically, all these pictures will still be here when their children have children? What if.. what if.. them basta's from Russia..or the Ukraine.. or..wherever, HACK into our lives, cameras, phones, laptops, yada, and we will never again see a pic of Granny.. or, Skip, the hound dog.. or Court Street back in 1959?
You think I'm kiddin? The basta's, said lovingly, in Russia,have viewed this blog 3,060 times, the Ukraine 1,635, and 'Unknown Region' 790 times. Убери свои чертовы руки от моих фото AND Зберігайте свої руїни з моїх фотографій (That's "Keep your damn hands off my pics" in Russian and Ukrainian. I have no idea what to do about those "Unknown Region" basta's.)
Gimme REAL PICS that I can hold in my hands. You know, the kind you usedta take, the little flash cube thing on top had rotated for the 4th time, rendering it useless, so you burned your damn hand taking it off, BUT.. BUT... you gotta run the film thingy down to Fotomat and in a few days.... PRESTO.. REAL PICS..
I'm talking ALBUMS... Blowin' 'em up, HANGING PICS ON THE WALL... Back from the day when 'rabbit ears' was vogue, and photo-bomb was unheard of.
Hell, you could go to Dolgins, hop in the photo booth, make stupid pick-your-nose, stick-your-tongue-out, thumbs-in-ears-fingers-out-wigglin' pics for FITTY CENTS, and PRESTO, by the time you got back out and closed the curtain, there they were, sliding down into a tray where you could take them home, pass them around.. PUT THEM IN ALBUMS.. to keep.. FOREVER.
I no trusty, electronics. Color me old. (I miss the black and whites too.. remember, the little sticky things you put on every corner of the pic so it didn't shrivel up when you accidentally left it on the dash in Grandpa's car?)
And... as a kid.. you gotta packet of pics at school. There was a huge one for mom and dad. A ton of small ones for all the snotnoses in your class to trade with. And then some medium sized ones. You'd give one to Granny.. Maybe a couple Aunts.. And there was one leftover you'd hand out (kinda like that BIGGEST Valentine in your box) to the one in 3rd grade you eventually thought you'd run off, get married to.. You'd hand it to her and say "Swear to goodness I wasn't lookin' that day you wore the dress on the jungle gym, but I think you're really perty... maybe someday we could get merried?" (or something like that.)
I have boxes. Lots of boxes. Within those boxes are albums. Lots of albums. Lots of pics. Add em all up, that's a lotta pics. Any time I can, wanna.. I can dig thru, turn the pages, and see - right then and there, pics from the Fitties, 60's, 70's, yada.
Then, I have a 3 inch, by 5 and 1/2 inch phone, a quarter inch thick... the battry (that's how we old folks talk 'battery') runs out in a few hours. I think I'm on my 12th phone since the bag phone days. There are MAYBE as many pics in my little phone as there are in all those wonderful boxes fulla albums. You tell me, do I trust the dusty ole' boxes will be there, or, that goshdarn electronic thing the Russians may screw up, or, that I might drop it in the toilet, leave it on toppa the car one day when I go visit fellow old codgers at the Piggly Wiggly? Uh huh, what I thought.
I no trusty electronics.
Besides. The lady at Fotomat was kinda hot. 'Course, she's prolly 87 now, but that matters none.
Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away (or Ruskies, Ukrainians either)
By Henry "Say Cheese" Gibson,
Love, Victurd
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