On Christmas eve in the morning



December 24, 2001. It was my first Christmas with the local newspaper; I drew the Christmas eve beat. My only assignment was to scout around for a Christmas shot. With the city lit up and festooned the way it was, I knew that wouldn’t be impossible. The biggest challenge would probably be choosing which house, draped with twinkling icicles and studded with store-bought cheer, to shoot.

It was a challenge I wouldn’t have to face. As I was driving by St. Andrew late that morning, I spotted a family visiting the nativity scene. I pulled into the lot and started to walk across the lawn… and to my disappointment, the family was starting to leave. There is a proscription in journalism against setting up a shot, so all I could do is watch helplessly as the moment dissolved. The toddler, however, seemed to be lingering at the crèche…fascinated, no doubt, by his sacred counterpart, asleep in the hay. I introduced myself to the parents, but they didn’t speak English. I gestured that I would like to take a photo of the nativity scene (and hoping the child wouldn’t move) They smiled their assent. That’s when the child turned around.



Comments

  1. Serendipity...? I don't think so.

    ReplyDelete
  2. December 24, 2001. It was my first Christmas with the local newspaper; I drew the Christmas eve beat. My only assignment was to scout around for a Christmas shot. With the city lit up and festooned the way it was, I knew that wouldn’t be impossible. The biggest challenge would probably be choosing which house, draped with twinkling icicles and studded with store-bought cheer, to shoot.

    It was a challenge I wouldn’t have to face. As I was driving by St. Andrew late that morning, I spotted a family visiting the nativity scene. I pulled into the lot and started to walk across the lawn… and to my disappointment, the family was starting to leave. There is a proscription in journalism against setting up a shot, so all I could do is watch helplessly as the moment dissolved. The toddler, however, seemed to be lingering at the crèche…fascinated, no doubt, by his sacred counterpart, asleep in the hay. I introduced myself to the parents, but they didn’t speak English. I gestured that I would like to take a photo of the nativity scene (and hoping the child wouldn’t move) They smiled their assent. That’s when the child turned around.

    My work was done.

    ReplyDelete
  3. PS, I'm REALLY glad you gave the story behind it.

    ReplyDelete

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