July 23, 2014 at 2:10 p.m.
Problem was easily solved (07/02/08)
Back in the Saddle
By By JACK RONALD-
Every once in awhile, it's nice to have a problem that solves itself.
Life is complicated enough. There are more than enough challenges out there. And it's easy to feel overwhelmed.
Even the little things can seem big.
That's the way I felt a couple of days ago when I grabbed my camera out of my briefcase and took it into the office to download some pictures.
The camera is a new one, a gift to myself last February, and I love it. It has far more features than I've been able to figure out, but it has proven to be remarkably versatile.
When I took it into the building, I noticed that the lens cap was dangling from a cord. That happens sometimes. When the camera is turned on, the lens pops out, automatically knocking the lens cap off. The cap hangs from a cord while you take pictures, so you don't lose track of it and can easily pop it back into place to protect the camera.
Pretty simple, right?
But after I downloaded the pictures for the newsroom, I noticed something strange.
The lens cap no longer fit the lens.
Think about that for a second. The lens cap had been attached to the body of the camera the whole time, but it wouldn't fit on the lens it had covered the last time the camera had been turned off.
It was the photographic equivalent of a locked room mystery.
I stared at the camera. Something about the lens didn't look right, but I couldn't - for the life of me - remember what it was supposed to look like back in the good old days, before this new headache, when the lens cap fit on the lens the way it was supposed to.
I turned the camera on again. The lens popped out. I turned the camera off. The lens retracted. But the lens cap still didn't fit.
Hoping for some sort of technological breakthrough, I repeated this procedure something like a dozen times, each time with the same results.
I studied the lens cap. It's such a simple device that it yielded no evidence.
I studied the lens again and came up with a theory: The lens was not retracing all the way back into the camera.
Rats. I suddenly had visions of sending the camera back to Canon for repairs and immediately felt some pangs of withdrawal. After all, this is the camera I planned to use to take pictures of the Jay County Marching Patriots for our annual band supplement. This is the camera I planned to use to take pictures of the Fourth of July parade. This is the camera I needed that very afternoon.
Who needs a lens cap, I thought momentarily. You do, was the immediate answer.
Lens caps exist for a reason. They protect the lens. And if you love your camera, you use your lens cap.
I let the problem sit on my desk for a couple of days. As usual, that method didn't work.
Finally, on Saturday, when my wife had to pick something up at Ball State's Bracken Library, I had time to take the lens-cap-addled camera back to Jack's Camera in Muncie, the place where I had purchased it.
Sherrie was behind the counter when I came in and greeted me with a smile. "How are you doing today?" I asked her.
She saw the camera in my hand, lens cap dangling instead of being where it was supposed to be. "I was great. Now I'm not sure," she said, gesturing to the camera.
In about 15 words I described the situation.
Sherrie furrowed her brow briefly and studied the camera in my hand.
Then she delivered the solution: "There's a part missing."
"A part missing?"
"A part on the lens. It's missing. That's what the lens cap attaches to. It's a removable ring so you can put additional lenses on."
I felt like an idiot, of course. But roughly 10 seconds later, I had walked back to my car, opened my briefcase, spotted the missing ring, put it back in place, and put the stupid lens cap where it belonged.
Ten seconds later and I was back inside the store to thank Sherrie again.
"I hope every problem you face today is that simple," I told her as I left.
But I doubted that would happen.
Only the rare ones find their solutions that easily.[[In-content Ad]]
Life is complicated enough. There are more than enough challenges out there. And it's easy to feel overwhelmed.
Even the little things can seem big.
That's the way I felt a couple of days ago when I grabbed my camera out of my briefcase and took it into the office to download some pictures.
The camera is a new one, a gift to myself last February, and I love it. It has far more features than I've been able to figure out, but it has proven to be remarkably versatile.
When I took it into the building, I noticed that the lens cap was dangling from a cord. That happens sometimes. When the camera is turned on, the lens pops out, automatically knocking the lens cap off. The cap hangs from a cord while you take pictures, so you don't lose track of it and can easily pop it back into place to protect the camera.
Pretty simple, right?
But after I downloaded the pictures for the newsroom, I noticed something strange.
The lens cap no longer fit the lens.
Think about that for a second. The lens cap had been attached to the body of the camera the whole time, but it wouldn't fit on the lens it had covered the last time the camera had been turned off.
It was the photographic equivalent of a locked room mystery.
I stared at the camera. Something about the lens didn't look right, but I couldn't - for the life of me - remember what it was supposed to look like back in the good old days, before this new headache, when the lens cap fit on the lens the way it was supposed to.
I turned the camera on again. The lens popped out. I turned the camera off. The lens retracted. But the lens cap still didn't fit.
Hoping for some sort of technological breakthrough, I repeated this procedure something like a dozen times, each time with the same results.
I studied the lens cap. It's such a simple device that it yielded no evidence.
I studied the lens again and came up with a theory: The lens was not retracing all the way back into the camera.
Rats. I suddenly had visions of sending the camera back to Canon for repairs and immediately felt some pangs of withdrawal. After all, this is the camera I planned to use to take pictures of the Jay County Marching Patriots for our annual band supplement. This is the camera I planned to use to take pictures of the Fourth of July parade. This is the camera I needed that very afternoon.
Who needs a lens cap, I thought momentarily. You do, was the immediate answer.
Lens caps exist for a reason. They protect the lens. And if you love your camera, you use your lens cap.
I let the problem sit on my desk for a couple of days. As usual, that method didn't work.
Finally, on Saturday, when my wife had to pick something up at Ball State's Bracken Library, I had time to take the lens-cap-addled camera back to Jack's Camera in Muncie, the place where I had purchased it.
Sherrie was behind the counter when I came in and greeted me with a smile. "How are you doing today?" I asked her.
She saw the camera in my hand, lens cap dangling instead of being where it was supposed to be. "I was great. Now I'm not sure," she said, gesturing to the camera.
In about 15 words I described the situation.
Sherrie furrowed her brow briefly and studied the camera in my hand.
Then she delivered the solution: "There's a part missing."
"A part missing?"
"A part on the lens. It's missing. That's what the lens cap attaches to. It's a removable ring so you can put additional lenses on."
I felt like an idiot, of course. But roughly 10 seconds later, I had walked back to my car, opened my briefcase, spotted the missing ring, put it back in place, and put the stupid lens cap where it belonged.
Ten seconds later and I was back inside the store to thank Sherrie again.
"I hope every problem you face today is that simple," I told her as I left.
But I doubted that would happen.
Only the rare ones find their solutions that easily.[[In-content Ad]]
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