Picture This - Part 3

How I became a photographer

Climbing Mt. Olympus??

(Yeah, that looks a little steep, doesn’t it?)

Should I spend $200 to buy my theatre pal Marc’s Olympus OM-1 camera at the end of my sophomore year of college????

Here’s some back story from my childhood to explain why this was such a big decision:

When I was in the third grade, men in suits came to the front door. I thought they were insurance salesmen because back then, those type of guys came a knockin’ to sell policies. But THESE Men in Black took the car away. Oh. NOT insurance guys. I later learned the term Repo Men. As in repossession. Apparently Dad had fallen behind on the payments for our Thunderbird.

We went through a bunch of cars the next few months. Dad had a little red Corvair for a bit…

… not to be confused with a snazzy little red Corvette and no need to cue up Prince’s song.

Then Dad got into an accident where the Corvair was totaled. Great. The guy living next door to us was a mechanic so he loaned us an ancient gray clunker from the 1940s. Eventually we got a green 1951 Hudson that was the color of Dino the Dinosaur (of Sinclair gas stations fame) – and it was about the same size.

At first I was okay with Green Dino, it beat to hell and back driving around in that gray clunker. I showed my aunt (she was just six years older than me) that the back seat was so wide I could lay down across it without having to bend my knees. She rolled her eyes implying the Hudson wasn’t even remotely cool, since this was the mid-60s. Shame washed over me.

About this time of us going through cars left, right and sideways, I became fascinated with Mr. Potato Head. I’m not sure why. I already had some Legos and had started collecting Matchbox cars. Maybe it was the fun of creating a funny face, so I asked my mom if I could have a Mr. Potato Head.

She said no, we couldn’t afford it. Wanna know how much Mr. Potato Head cost in the mid-60s? Ninety-eight cents. I’m not kidding.

I begged and pleaded with my mom until she finally drove us down to Ayr-Way where she bought me one. In hindsight, I’ve often regretted pushing Mom so hard for that toy… but when you’re in early grade school, how else do you stand up for yourself?

I did have a small plastic bank back then (it looked like a vault)…

… where I put my tiny allowance when Mom could afford to give me a nickel or a dime (my job was to take out the trash and dry the dishes). But Dad stole money from the plastic vault one Saturday morning when he thought I was asleep so he could go buy coffee at the corner diner. I ratted him out to Mom and she chastised him big time. I don’t remember him paying me back.

So you can see why I was nervous and my mom was freaked out by me wanting to spend $200 on Marc’s Olympus OM-1 35 mm camera.

How could I even afford it, you ask? Well, I worked summers at Eagle Creek Park in Indianapolis to save up for college, plus I did work-study jobs at the University of Evansville (set building, publicity, box office), and I got grants (BEOG – the Basic Educational Opportunity Grant) and scholarships. No loans, I did NOT want to end up in debt like my dad.

All of that added up to my bank account giving me the green light to buy Marc’s camera. Not to mention my intuition and instincts that were yelling, “GO FOR IT!” So, I bought it. And used it for close to 30 years. A truly fabulous investment.

(It says 28 millimeter but the film that fit inside was called 35 mm)

Now that I had this fancy schmancy camera, what was I going to take pictures of? Surely more than just water droplets on clover and raindrops on roses (as much as I loved Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music)…

Wait, hang on… I was in the Drama Dept. at U of E…

Yes, photo ops there started to call my name…

(An action shot of mine from The Boyfriend, a musical production at the University of Evansville)