2001-11-01 - 12:53 a.m.

I think it was in fourth or fifth grade when I went on the trip. It was a class field trip to the Mount Desert Oceanarium and Lobster Hatchery. This was an important trip for us because, being from Maine, fishing and such is very important to our state, but we lived in Central Maine, so we weren't exposed to it. And so we were going off to Bar Harbor for the day to be exposed to a part of the state that many others in the state grew up with.

More importantly, it was one of the first major trips I'd be going on without my parents where there would be something worth taking pictures of. So after school the day before I went to the flower shop where my mother worked and asked her if she would buy me a camera. She promptly said no. I don't remember why any more, but I remember she said no. Being a crafty little child, I immediately turned to my carefully thought-out reasoning behind why she should get me a camera: "Pleeeeeeeease? Lots of other kids are going to have them."

Needless to say, that argument was less than effective. So instead I found a valid reason to go to Emerson's Pharmacy, a convenience store just down the street, kind of a smaller version of a Rite-Aid. Remarkably similar, actually, which is probably why it was put out of business by a Rite-Aid a couple of years ago.

Anyway, I came up with a valid reason to go there that had absolutely nothing to do with cameras, and gave my mom that reason, and left. When I came back, I knew the prices for every camera and type of film they had, including the fairly cheap Funtastics fluorescent orange camera they had for about $10 dollars. With my new knowledge, I was ready to convince my mother that buying me this camera was the right way to go, if for no other reason than because it was worth the money for the camera and film to shut me up and not have me upset at her for a while afterwards. And wouldn't you know it, I managed to.

And so, armed with my new cheap camera (with my name and address written on it in black permanent marker), a twenty-four exposure roll of film, and absolutely no experience whatsoever I was off to the Oceanarium. I took all kinds of pictures. Of a giant whale jawbone hanging from the ceiling, of the giant lobster they had in one of the tanks, of the display of salmon eggs, of everything I could think of. I was so excited to show my mother my pictures and tell her all about it.

So I went home and got them developed as soon as possible.

This was the point that my photography skills became the thing of family jokes for years to come. Half the pictures were so poorly lit that they were nothing but gray-brown blurs on black backgrounds. Others had bright flash burns from trying to take straight-on pictures of dark aquariums. Sometimes I just failed completely to actually aim the camera at what I was taking the picture of, and managed to get something next to it. I had failed miserably in my first excursion into the world of photography.

For years after it would go like this. I would occasionally get a roll of film to take on a trip with me, only to come back with some truly awful pictures. They were never quite as bad as the ones before, because each time I was learning about why the last ones were so terrible, but they were still bad. Somewhere in there, though, I started to learn.

You know, when I think about those first pictures, I think about what would have happened if someone told my mother that years later I would be submitting pictures to some photo contests that would be worth thousands of dollars, and honestly believe I might have a chance to win. I think she would have laughed herself unconscious. She tells me she "would have believed that anything is possible." Whatever is the truth, now, years later, after coming a very long way, I'm doing just that. I'm submitting some pictures to a few online photography contests. Originally I was going to put a poll on here to figure out which ones I should submit, but I think I've figured it out already. I'll keep you posted on how things go with the contests.

Wish me luck.

I know I still have a long way to go.