The Parent Flap

Some news shooters polish their weapons on the perimeter as they plot their every move. Me, I just stumble into the breech. Take today for instance, when I bum-rushed a school awards ceremony like a deranged janitor. Technically, the Principal knew I was there - and even why. But to most of the parents packed into that cafegymnatorium, I was just one more Dad with face full of plastic glass. How else to explain the panting man in the cargo shorts, the one high-stepping over third graders and Room Moms alike. Yes, I was halfway to the podium when their collective stares weighed me down and I looked up to a room full of suspended eyebrows. It was then I realized they took me for a (GASP!) hobbyist. One glance at my hand and I understood why...

It's that damn new camera.

Plasti-Glass 5000, Fancy Cam Jr, Fisher-Price Vision: I still haven't decided what I'm calling my diminished lens. Fact is, I haven't so much as cradled it before today. Instead I've let it ride shotgun on auto-ignore as I squired around the old Sony I wished was my owny. It ain't - and until I get in the habit of buying TV cameras, I'd better get used to wading into the battle with a far weaker weapon. What's that you say? My new long-arm is less intrusive and newer, low on the hernia scale and of quite higher definition. Yeah, it's got some theoretical pluses, but for a fellow who's worn a groove in his shoulder with a certain caliber of camera, it doesn't always add up. But hey, match was never my strong suit, so I've vowed to shut-up and shoot - for any camcorder that acts as advertised should be all I need to enact some cinema, right?

Right?

Theoretically, yes. But having now used my pea-shooter in a real-world shoot-out, I find my self pining for the hefty embrace of my Sony XD. Today the topography of that fine device was much on my mind as I jabbed at my new rig and found most of he buttons missing. Thrice I tried to record a shot - only to white balance in three different shades of orangey-blue. If that weren't enough I conducted half a scintillating interview before ever realizing I'd yet to roll. Imagine a certain third-grader's chagrin when I asked to him to repeat most everything he'd said. Yes, that and the indignant glares of so many parents almost shook my confidence and for once I was glad my miniature lens at least had room for a trimmed up El Ocho logo. Otherwise, I'd be cast to the back of the the room with the rest of the amateurs...

And I'm not sure I could live with that.