I’ve shed most of my packrat tendencies over the last few years, but most of what didn’t get purged in previous moves ended up in my home office in either boxes or bins, and I just got tired of looking at it. It’s only been about five years.
The room is only about 12’ x 12’… how bad could it be?
With better planning and perhaps more coffee, I could have had it all done in a day or so, but it’s taken… well… longer.
Early on in the process I rediscovered my first “real” camera body. I had always known where it was, but I hadn’t had reason to dig it out. It was the last thing that I scooped out of a large storage bin.
I bought this little brick and its original lens (a 50mm f/1.4 that was stolen years ago) in 1977, and I continued to shoot with it until about 1999, when the shutter-cocking lever decided to refuse to move.
When the shutter jammed, it was cheaper and faster to just buy a used body to take its place than it was to repair it. But I just couldn’t part with it. So I’ve been lugging it along wherever I’ve landed for a good long time now.
The body that I replaced it with was stolen along with the original fast 50 and a couple of other lenses that I really liked a lot, but the 24mm f/2.8 shown here and the really cute little 250mm mirror telephoto weren’t in the bag at the time, so they follow me around, too, unused.
The camera shows its scars proudly. The dent on the top of the pentaprism came from having a tripod leg slip off a rock. The whole rig landed on that point. I was afraid that all of the interior parts would be knocked out of commission, but no… it just kept right on firing.
The camera and I got tromped on by volleyball players and running backs. It fell with me through a false ceiling while on an assignment and was better off after than I was. It shot weddings, family gatherings, storms, flight deck operations, talent contests, Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker and my son.
I think I owe it a repair job!