Life as a Polaroid Camera

In 1967, Santa Claus left a Brownie Instamatic Camera underneath our Christmas tree for me. It was about five inches tall and even had a flashbulb that sat on top of the square, shiny metal body. As most kids do, I changed my mind hundreds of times as to what I wanted to be when I grew up—on that day it was definitely a professional photographer.

I had an early attraction to photography. My uncle worked for Eastman Kodak in Kingsport, Tennessee. One time when I visited, Uncle Bill took me on a tour of the plant. His office had a display of photos he had taken. Then he took me on a behind-the-scenes tour to show me the mystery of how the film became photos in the darkroom.

I’m sure he had a talk with Santa and suggested this gift because in those days nine year old kids didn’t have their own camera. Show-and-tell day in third grade was typically standing in front of the class and holding up your toy. I demonstrated my Christmas present by taking a picture of the class. I only took three photos because film was expensive. Two were blurry and the other was creative before creative was cool—I tilted it at a 45-degree angle. Three weeks later when I brought in the photographs, most of my classmates had lost interest in it.

A few years later when I received my first Polaroid camera, I knew it would be an instant hit with my classmates. I loaded the rectangular box of film into the camera. I took the photo and waited 60 seconds. Then as I peeled apart the positive from the negative—voila! Just like magic, a photograph appeared. Everyone wanted to have their  picture taken. Even my sixth grade teacher suggested that all 40 students line up outside so that we could get a class picture.

I was thinking today of how the Polaroid worked. In later versions, a green tinged photo would eject from the bottom of the camera. We would watch it develop before our eyes. If only it was this easy to observe people change as they go through the trials and tribulations of life. We would know when they need support. Usually we have to rely on our intuition.

Today’s gift was to make a suggestion to the minister of my church. I told him about someone who is struggling and how important it would be for my friend to get a call and feel connected. Even though I won’t be able to watch them develop like a Polaroid, I’ll know that my friend will change in a good way too.

In Giving,

Robin