“New Old Favorite

February 2026

My Canon Rebel T1i, a hand-me-down from my son after he moved onto higher skilled cameras, steadied my life and hand from the moment I first looked through its aperture into a world I could control. Its presence provided protection from social situations I dreaded. My Rebel and I marched together at protests, hung out at tense in-law gatherings, and joyfully recorded life around me. My parents didn’t own cameras. Growing up, we had an occasional snap shot from the instamatics or polarize one-shot cameras that faded faster than my memories. The stilted school photographs marked each year like the line some families etch into a hidden doorway. The first camera we purchased as a couple, a used Pentax K 1000, passed between us with an ease married people share over the years. It wasn’t my camera. My Rebel was mine alone. 

Last summer, my old friend began hesitating on shots. The first time I noticed it,  we sweltered in the zoo’s butterfly house. I convinced myself that nothing could perform in that high heat and humidity. The problem occurred so infrequently that I lulled myself into believing that nothing was wrong with it. When my son took it out and about for a few minutes, it performed perfectly. However, he logged it into his heart that I may have to retire my best friend and gently suggested that I start looking for another camera. My resistance, quick and stubborn, snapped at him. I couldn’t bare another loss. This last year of grief (friends, family, pets) made me reject another change.  I wouldn’t let go of my Rebel, a secure and predictable weight around my neck.

In February, a box arrived with my name on the label. Having ordered nothing, I puzzled over its contents as my son urged scissors into my hands to open it up. Knowing I’d never seek to replace my old camera, he decided he’d gift me another Canon, just as he had so many years ago. For the first time ever, I own a brand new camera! With shaking hands, I set aside bubble wrap and plucked out the box of my new best friend, a Rebel T7.

April 2026

May 2026

June 2026

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

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IOUNIO's "Freedom"

“Brain Challenges!”

In October, I began using the mini-Mac my son gifted me when Windows 10 no longer had support. Over the years, I’ve used Mac hardware and software, but each time I shift back, my brain stubbornly sticks to the other computer. 

A few days ago, I couldn’t find the Dictionary and Thesaurus for Pages although I’d used it a couple of weeks before. The shift to Tahoe had rippled down into my having to go into this-n-that and do a restart to access both of those with a highlight and click again. I’d also saved a template to Pages that vanished with the update. I grumble to myself, “I obviously did this before. . .” 

This morning, I decided to capture a few photographs of the remaining ice outside. When using my iPhone, pictures transfer to my new computer effortlessly. Select. Airdrop. Location (usually Downloads for me). Then comes the challenge of editing each picture, which I struggle with every single time. Using my Canon requires me to attach a cable between it and the computer hub. I’m not Tony Stark. This simple mating takes me at least four tries. The camera gives me its usual “BUSY” message, but I drew a blank on how to select and import the newest pictures. I’m not even trying to run them through anything like Photoshop. That’s for a different day. 

I tell myself every time I type a piece or load a picture that adjusting to all of this new stuff is really good for me. I have to do Google searches and view YouTube instructional videos to do something that used to be done on autopilot. I need to view these brain challenges an additional part of my daily exercise routine.

Cardboard left for squirrels!

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

"Changing Leaves"

          Running around the past few days on Christmas shopping errands, awe stopped me in my tracks. Our Red Oak and our neighbor’s Arizona Ash decided to don bright, contrasting reds and yellows. My husband’s iPhone and my old trusty Canon captured this brilliant moment.

            Enjoy!

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman    

"The Fall"

 

            

              The day begins with me alone on a front porch swing, taking the time to savor the morning stillness before anyone else awakens.

            Yesterday right after dawn, I donned my tennis shoes, hung the Canon around my neck, and made a short hike down the road to a gate that guarded river access. I spied a trellis heavy with grapevines; its fruit long lost to birds. Moving cautiously downward, I found a clearing where water shallowly pooled. Snapping pictures, I captured sunlight and water—rocks hidden under a rising mist.

            I tiptoed across a natural bridge of stepping stones, attending to each one to make certain my feet found purchase as I made my way across the moss slickened steps. Trying to gather morning’s essence, I hunkered down on a ledge to change angles, finding beauty from east to west.

            

            I dangled my camera around my neck, its heavy weight bumping against my chest, and its weight reminded me to take care. But a loose and slippery rock foiled my sensible shoes and snail pace, catapulting me into a cartwheel. Instinct snapped into place, and I caught the camera before it plopped into the water. Who cares about a bruised hip, battered shoulder or bumped head? My hands cradled my camera as my head bounced a second time. Like a mother who’s swept in to pull her child away from catastrophe, I checked my “baby” for damage as I swiped at the lens and casing with a dry corner of my shirt. Reassured that water hadn’t seeped beyond its hardened shell, I powered it down and began to laugh.

            Water trickled down the right side of my body and my right shoe squished as I made my way further up the bank, pulling away from the river’s edge. For a second, my blurred vision worried me. Had I hit my head that hard? And then I realized that my glasses lay somewhere behind me. Half-blind and half-drenched, I searched my way back down the path—hoping my glasses had tumbled onto the ground when I took off my light jacket—fearing that they lay under water.

            I backtracked onto the spit of rocks, avoiding the one that spilled me into the water; and began to patty cake the cool surface, squinting in an attempt to sharpen my vision. My fingers found my frames before my eyes, and I plucked them gratefully from their hiding place under a large leaf.

            My mishap meant I meandered around the water’s edge with wet pants and a soggy shoe as I preserved wild flowers blooming one last time before the coming of Fall.

 

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman              

“Spring Time in Texas”

            If I could, I’d pause this time of year and let it linger for month after month. The cooler nights mean I slide my windows open and slumber with scents of honeysuckle and rose. My air conditioner stands silent and still as soft breezes waft into each room. Outside, a polarized filter refines leaves, deepens the sky to cerulean, and cuts daylight and shadow into razor-sharp relief. A trip down any road takes me to fields of wildflowers, a photographer’s paradise. Point and shoot. Perfect moments stretch out eternally.

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Throw Back Thursdays”

Abrams Family 1960s

            My parents didn’t take many pictures of us, and I suspect their limited budget kept them from snapping away. They had a couple of inexpensive cameras, but film and developing turned out to be a luxury. At one point, my father purchased an instamatic Polaroid that spat out a picture from its slatted mouth. I remember all of us gathering around in anticipation as the brownish square developed into a picture. These photographs didn’t stand the pressures of time, and most never made it to the nondescript brown box on the floor of my mother’s closet. You know the box I mean—the one where all pictures get tossed with the idea that “someday” they will be organized into photo-albums with neatly printed dates and labels. When my parents finally did arrange their few pictures, they couldn’t remember specific dates or names of various friends. They gave up the idea of a chronological order and instead created a binder for each of us kids and a hodge-podge file of their own lives “pre-children”

            I swore to myself that I’d stay on top of my own camerawork, so when David and I purchased a use Pentax K1000, I picked up an album along with the first roll of film. Whenever it looked like we neared the last pages of a folder, I’d buy a new one. Both of us love playing with the camera, and we coupled our picture taking with bike treks. For a couple with limited funds, taking our bikes down a back road and stopping for wildflower photo-opts filled endless weekend hours.

        

    Eventually, we designated the upper shelves of a closet for these massive volumes of memories. After Paul’s birth, we added more shelves. And although we had computers in our home long before many of our friends and family members because of David’s freelance business, we dragged our feet at converting to digital cameras. Our old trusty Pentax still took lovely pictures, and over the years we’d added lenses and filters. Technology eventually won out, and we bought a small pocket sized Canon that we used until we “inherited” our Canon  Rebel T1i from my son, who switched over to a Nikon D5100. I have to admit, I love grabbing my Rebel and snapping shots of budding Mountain Laurel, the dogs sleeping in bed, or a view from the Irish shore. I can simply plug my camera into my laptop, create folders, and organize to my heart’s content. Sharing my photography takes a simple click or two.

 

            I decided about five years ago that we needed digital back-ups for all of those thousands of pictures lining the shelves of that lone closet. So I began my scanning project. I started with my parents’ meager collection, figuring I’d keep a disc, give my sister a disc, and give my brother the originals. I managed to accomplish that task and had started on some of my own photographs when my mother’s care needs kicked into overdrive. My ambitious project fell into the background, forgotten.

            Until Throw Back Thursdays! The sharing of old pictures on Facebook nudged me into picking up my old project. At first, I thought I’d organize everything in my computer chronologically, but I soon realized that system would require us to remember which year something had occurred if we wanted a picture of a person or event. I decided to organize by category: Paul’s Firsts, Vacations/Day Trips, Christmas, Abrams Outings, Chapman Gatherings, etc. This method suits us best because we have more than thirty years of photographs to arrange. I’ve also made many executive decisions on which memories we need to scan, since we probably have more than 6, 000 pictures! I finally resolved that “one” of each would provide a good starting point. Completing this project will take time since David’s also taking the time to restore some photos to their original color and vibrancy. In the meantime, we’ll continue to share with our family and friends snippets of our lives together.

 

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman