I thought it was time to expand my skill set, learn something new. So I signed up for a digital photography class through our local community center. “Maybe I can finally get out of auto mode,” I said to myself as I clicked to register. After learning camera basics for a few weeks, our instructor scheduled a night shoot. We all met downtown at the train station just before dusk.
We are all amateurs —an elderly chap whose wife is a former Broadway actress, the second grade school teacher and her best friend, the nice guy who sat next to me in class, and me. But standing together, each holding our cameras mounted on tripods, we looked important. And we attracted attention.
This group of young guys—looked like teens, maybe early 20s—called out to us to take their pictures.
“Look at me.”
“Take my photo!” “Take mine!”
They wanted to be noticed.
To feel important to someone.
While his friends posed and vamped like wangstas, he was cool, thoughtful, and reflective. Stylish too, in his bright red polo and a smart plaid cap.
I saw him.
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