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I don’t know about you, but for me, “When it rains, it pours.” I’m not talking about gentle April showers, but I’ve swam through some of those, too. I’ll never forget the first April I had my then all-together (4 hubcaps, muffler, in-tact mirrors) mini-van. I was carpooling via Abercorn Street and thinking how nice it was to be driving a vehicle capable of swimming through Abercorn’s infamous swimming holes. That’s when my car lost its water wings and refused to budge another inch. No one stopped to help me that day, and I soon found myself pushing a stubborn automule down Abercorn Expressway, knee-deep in April showers. If that wasn’t humiliating enough, imagine my embarrassment as I grimaced through the local evening news. Peeking through closed eyes, I watched some April fool pushing a mini-van (just like main) down Abercorn Expressway. She was even wearing the same outdated London Fog I had on that afternoon. That was one of those days when I was at the “end of a roll.” I experience them often. Yet, it wasn’t until I got out of the car and began sloshing down the water-logged expressway that I finally got help. I made a tangible effort to do something about my dilemma, and someone responded. Last month I’d taken all of the photographs needed for the March issue, except for one of Tino Ballesteros. I needed one to accompany his “Savannah Parent” Advisory Board profile. Tino has wonderful, natural rapport with children. I wanted a photograph of him with some of the pre-schoolers at The Wilmington Island Presbyterian Church. Tino and I arranged to meet at the kindergarten the day before my deadline. I arrived fifteen minutes early with a fresh roll of film. Since it was so close to my deadline, I decided to use my vintage Polaroid, the one I used when photographer of my high school newspaper way-back-when. I knew I could depend on it. I wouldn’t have to worry about a developer’s machinery breaking down or a processor running out of developing paper, problems I’d encountered during previous months. The first child arriving that morning was an adorable little tow-head named Matthew. I immediately recruited him for the picture. He was obliging and, at the count of “three,” he grinned wincingly. But the picture refused to come out of the camera. Finally, I had to open the camera to remove it. A group of children soon gathered, and Tino was surrounded by an angelic-looking host of pre-schoolers. Each sported a big “Say cheese, please” smile, and Tino’s smiles was the biggest one of all. The children were told that they were going to be in the newspaper with Tino. They were excited. Holding my breath, remembering earlier photograph disasters, I counted: “One, two, three.” I went through this process three times; yet, pictures two, three, and four came out blank. Smiles waned. I heard a squeaky voice pleading, from my dry lips, “Just one more time...” However, after the third “just one more time,” and three more blank photographs, I lost my credibility with the children--and they lost their patience and interest. I even sensed Tino’s discouragement, but not Matthew’s. He’d been the first child on the scene, and he showed no signed of leaving until his image was captured. He’d been told that he was going to be in the newspaper with Tino, and that’s exactly where he intended to end up. “Please,” I said once more. “I’m at the end of the roll now. Let me shoot you one more time. There’s still one shot left. Maybe...” Before Tino or Matthew could answer or run away, I shot once more--and I got them! The big smiles were gone, and the photograph was fuzzy. Yet, it was salvageable, even after I dropped it into the sand during the developing process. Most importantly, it was a lesson for me, and I hope for Matthew, in perseverance. He was the first child on the scene, and he was the last. Matthew intended for his picture to appear in the newspaper with Tino’s, no matter what. And, by cracky, it did! Matthew preserved. Hopefully, it was worth the effort. He was the only child whose picture appeared in the next issue of “Savannah Parent.” I’m not sure if I’m a tenacious individual or just stubborn. I do know that when I commit myself to an undertaking, a belief, or an individual, I try my best to stick with my commitment, regardless of the frustrations involved. The eventual outcome is usually worth my efforts. The result might not always be what I hope for, but sometimes it’s a lot more. The twelfth hour is here again--”Savannah Parent” deadline time, and here I am in the midst of another roll. Oh, there were no problems this month with photography. In fact, it’s the only month I haven’t experienced photography woes since my involvement with “Savannah Parent>“ What I want to know is what does an editor shoot when her refrigerator, clothes dryer, dishwasher, and typewriter all break down within twenty-four hours of deadline even--when she doesn’t have time to break down? Oh well, I’m at the end of another roll and only
have one hour left. But that means I’ve got one last shot. I’ll take it!
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