More for the Morgue

My “old” water-damaged camera arrived home today in a body bag via Federal Express. If it were alive, it would ask me why I didn’t think it was worth repairing for $200 less than the cost of a replacement. I would tell it that no one would take its place, that it was my first digital camera and therefore I would never forget it. Although it is no longer alive, and its lens cannot see me anymore, I tell it anyway.
I will never be able to throw it away. That would be too sad. It would actually make me cry, if you must know the so-called “god’s honest truth”. Anthropomorphism is alive and well.
This is why I still have every portable CD player I’ve ever bought, no matter how cracked or broken or hopelessly damaged. This is why I have an entire family of Asics GEL running shoes — the 2060s, which were phased out to make way for the 2070s, which were killed off for the 2080s, which are now lying dormant thanks to the 2090s.
I never buy anything new just to have the latest model. I am not a trendoid. I do not have to be the first on my block to have whatever is “in”. In fact, I don’t even have a DVD player. If something I have wears out, as in the case of the running shoes, well, yes, I will upgrade to the latest and greatest model, but only if it serves me well or suits me.
So that’s the way I consider my new camera. Although it’s an upgrade from the old one, it’s not the absolute latest of its type. It is 4.1 megapixels as compared to the 5.0 model that came out around the same time. And believe me, the new camera is already nervously looking over its shoulder, biting its fingers, and steering clear of any and all water bottles.
But I assure it that it needn’t worry. It’s not going anywhere. Except everywhere, with me.