I was picking the chopper-wash out of my teeth the other day when I got the uneasy feeling I was being watched. Looking up, I spotted them. Two middle school kids, pointing their A/V club's handycam not at the the sleek helicopter that had just landed in front of their school, but at the aging lenslinger licking his wounds underneath a shade tree. For a moment I was transported back to the Summer of '78, when a visiting hippie photog held my attention throughout the better part of four termite league baseball innings. Not wanting to leave the same kind of impression on these innocent lasses that that dude did on me, I shot them a most indifferent look before languidly snapping their picture. I'd like to think I did the right thing...
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