Of cameras and peanut butter

I came across my Papa's old Olympus OM-4 SLR camera this afternoon while I was idly going through some old stuff in the cabinets. It was in a dusty leather bag with the flash and lens in their own velvet pouches and the camera itself secured in a leather case.

The camera was black, which was the only color in which Olympus released it back in 1983. The knobs and levers were unfamiliar to me. It felt hefty in my hand although it has a compact design. Despite the long disuse, it looked functional only in need of a good cleaning. The unattached Zuiko lens and the removable flash unit were also heavy.

There was a sense of nostalgia as I uncovered and handled each item. This camera was off limits when my siblings and I were very young. I was probably a toddler when my Papa acquired it. He had another camera at that time, a sleeker Pentax which was more handy. When I was an older kid, I was allowed to even use this. But the SLR, he only handled himself.

When he came home from years of overseas work, I remember Papa always tinkering with mechanical and electronic objects when we were growing up. Sometimes, he didn't even bother putting them back together again - which was always a source of exasperation for my mother. We always had disemboweled remote controls, spark igniters (the ones used for old stoves), TV antennas, and betamax players (it WAS the 80's). Of course, he tinkered with his cameras, too, but those always ended up securely replaced in their respective containers.

He is generally a quiet man, my father. Even then, he would be content on sitting by himself in the head of the dining table - reading the newspapers, drinking coffee, answering the crossword puzzles, reading chess books, and yes - tinkering with gadgets. He also took pictures of us. Lots and lots of pictures of us.

We have stacks and stacks of photographs when we were kids. Most of them candid shots. When we were playing, watching tv, or eating. He must've taken good measure not to be noticed when he took these shots since we weren't aware of him taking pictures.

My sister and I have a picture sitting side by side with jars of peanut butter on our laps. I remember we ate spoonfuls of it in the afternoons after school. And another one when we all went to the fishpond in our jogging attires with binoculars dangling over our necks.

Papa has grown much older, especially this past year. Complications of his diabetes have made his constitution far weaker than it used to be. His eyesight is failing and he finds it difficult to move around. He is still the quiet man I've always known him to be. Over dinner this evening, I ask him about his camera. I told him I was planning to bring it to the service center to have it checked. He says I didn't have to since it was not broken, to start with. I just needed to have the batteries replaced.

I mumbled that I still have yet to open the battery and film compartments. You still don't know how, so figure it out, he said.

And I felt like I was a toddler again. Getting told off for eating spoonfuls of peanut butter.