The Best Video Camera
The Best Video Camera
Everywhere I go I see people with video cameras in hand, aiming at their surroundings in an attempt, I suppose, to capture the moment or at least the surrounding people and places.
For the record, I will admit I do not own such a camera. It's not that I have anything against modern technology, rather, it is because I believe I already possess the best video camera, my brain. After all, that is usually the only "camera" around when those very special moments spontaneously take place.
Sure, you can have a video camera around for those planned moments. But it's our eyes we have to depend on as the lens of the camera when most of those incredibly wonderful, delightful and memorable moments occur.
That look of new discovery of self and of joy on your child's face when dancing spontaneously and rhythmically to music in the room. Or maybe it is that last look and embrace with a loved one that brought tears to your eyes and a conscious, intense desire to never forget all the vivid details of that moment.
I have, for example, a wonderful "tape" of a very special moment in my life. Eyes open or shut, I see it in color. I need no machine to help me play it back and no special room to view it.
It was to be his last winter in Florida, the place he loved more than almost anywhere else. At eighty-five, my Dad was still strong, erect, proud, and swimming each day. Because he and I had such a special, loving, close relationship, my visit to Fort Lauderdale during the winter hoilidays always brought us considerable joy.
I called him from my wife's family home on the beach as soon as I arrived, and we agreed to meet on the beach. Being two miles apart, I was to jog south toward his home, while he would begin walking north to meet me somewhere in the middle.
As I slowly jogged my way past the multitude of sun worshippers and bathers. I listened to not only the waves and wind but to beatiful, mellow music piped into my ears by a small radio attached to my waist. With the sun beating down its welcome rays of warmth, enjoying the feeling of a gentle jog on the firm beach, and most of all, anticipating our reunion, I was filled with happiness.
And then I saw him, questionalbly at first because of the remaining distance between us, but obviously a few seconds later. His gait, so similar to mine, was unmistakable and assured me that it was he coming towards me that sunny day on the beach in Lauderdale by the sea. And then something wonderful happened.
Unable to run because of his age, he nonetheless stretched out his arms as if to embrace me, and with quicker steps than usual focused himself toward me, all the while smiling that so familiar and reassuring smile of his. I, in like manner, stretched out my arms and while covering the next 50 yards or so, with the wind at my back, the sun in my face, and music in my ears, ran towards him.
Then suddenly we heard them clapping. Other people along the beach, many my father's age, witnessing this delicious moment between father and son, felt as touched as we did and could not restrain their approval. We laughed, and arm in arm walked back to where my mother eagerly awaited our return.
Being trained as a physician, I am perhaps more attuned to my surroundings and aware of the body language of those I interface with. But many of us could turn on our camera at those special moments. We are all capable of using the very best video camera around, our brains. We just need practice and willingness to use it.
That special moment on the beach that sunny winter day with all its vivid details is permanently imbedded in my mind. It can never be erased until I, as my beloved father did that next fall, die.
Thank God I had with me and used at that very special moment the very best video camera.