Where You Look Will Meet Your Destiny

Why is it that every time I attend a wedding, my eyes follow the photographer? Could it be because I spent 35 years of my non-journalism life as a wedding photographer? Comparatively speaking, these photographers have it all over me. While I worked alone, they travel in pairs or threes. One covers the front, another the back, and a third watches the other two and plants himself somewhere in between. It’s like a three-ring circus out there, which ultimately draws your attention away from the center of interest: the bride and groom. I remember a hardball priest from my community who laid down the law to prevent such a calamity in his church. Upon reviewing some pre-nuptial etiquette, he showed me my assigned place. The back of the church was preferred unless I wanted to take pictures from the choir loft above. That would negate a good wedding package, unless you wanted to admire the backs of people. That way, he said, the photographer would not be so conspicuous, taking interest away from the wedding couple. “It’s their day, not yours,” he said, cracking a whip. “Get them leaving the church all you want. We’ll even stage the ring exchange and get any desired shot after it’s over.” A weak compromise but nonetheless, a bone. It’s his church and he has housekeeping rules. I respected that. Other photographers? I’m not so sure. In church on Sunday, my eyes are usually fixed upon my priest until someone arrives with their children. Suddenly, all eyes turn toward the youngsters and the baby. “Oh, how cute,” they ogle. “Look at that outfit.” A stranger arrives and people at prayer suddenly look up and wonder who the mysterious guest is. He’s not one of us. Where did he come from? Maybe we should welcome him at coffee hour with one hand and ask for a donation with the other. I usually take my place at the back of the sanctuary. That way, if I must leave early, it will be unobtrusive. A front row pew would be a dead giveaway. They’ll all watch you pass through their gauntlet, wondering why the early exit. Then you’ll have some explaining to do with the curious-minded. “I saw you leave church early last Sunday? Was there a problem?” “No problem, really. My grandson had a basketball game and I wanted to see him play.” “Before the sermon?” “Well, I have no control over when the game starts. That’s the schedule’s fault.” “So what comes first, church or sports?” “If I wasn’t noticed, we wouldn’t be having this discussion now,” I muttered to myself. At the doctor’s office, I peruse the waiting room. Wonder what book that woman is reading? That man over there, I know him from somewhere. My goodness, there’s an acquaintance. Hope he doesn’t recognize me. We’ll talk for an hour. Inside an elevator, where do you look? I turn to my left, then my right, and see who’s with me. If the lift ever got stuck, I would like to know who my fellow passengers happen to be. The guy with the beard and dark glasses. A terrorist, maybe? When I’m inside an airplane, I look out for suspicious people. Okay, so I’m a little paranoid about all this. My worst nightmare is sitting beside an undesirable person the length of my journey. I’m an introvert and I hate to be disturbed.

Where You Look Will Meet Your Destiny

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Tom Vartabedian

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This story is FREE for you...

Tom Vartabedian

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