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<UID>
0102030167
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<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
010204
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, February 04, 2001
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
COM; CHOICES
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1E
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<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 2001, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
FORGET CAMERAS; ENJOY THE MOMENT
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
This Tuesday, "Good Morning America" will offer you something different with
your coffee. You can watch a baby being born.

The ABC morning show will have camera crews live at three hospitals -- in
Dallas, Houston and Boston -- in hopes of capturing the most amazing human
event of all.

The prospective parents will have signed release forms. Doctors, too. As far
as we know, no labor will be induced so that the baby arrives before a
commercial break.

Then again, it is TV.

"We are hoping to capture the miracle of childbirth," the show's producer told
me last week.

Critics suggest childbirth is only truly miraculous during sweeps months like
February.

But never mind that. And never mind that the gooey, graphic sight of babies
coming from the womb may not go well with eating your Cheerios.

What concerns me is the big picture. And that it keeps getting bigger and
bigger.



A history of photography

Aren't there cameras everywhere? Once upon a time, only the most special
occasions were captured on film. People planned, dressed and posed for a
portrait. The flash went off, and they relaxed. It was a process. Not real.
Not candid. Not ordinary.

Nowadays, we photocopy our rear ends on the copy machine. We film everything.
We film birthdays. We film blowing out candles. We film opening presents. We
film opening the present of the new movie camera.

How often do you see people pointing video recorders at each another and the
conversation goes like this?

"Say something."

"What should I say?"

"I don't know. Say, 'Hi.' "

"OK. Hi."

"Hi."

"Turn it off, OK?"

"Why?"

Not exactly a Kodak moment, is it? But we still don't turn it off. We have
cameras everywhere. Most of the time, we'll never watch the film. But we keep
on rolling. The surge in reality TV should tell you something: What's real
about life in front of a camera?

Nothing. Yet we call it reality. And the more we keep filming ourselves --
filming our funniest videos, filming when animals attack us, filming ourselves
making love, filming couples on a tropical island trying to seduce one another
-- the more the lens becomes reality, the more the real world becomes a dress
rehearsal.



Stealing life's joys

Now, I do some work in television. I try to act natural in front of the
cameras. But I am always aware when they are on and off.

And in my private life, I don't like being filmed. I don't enjoy when a
special moment happens -- a party, a toast, a ceremony -- and I look around
and see my friends' and loved ones' faces covered with video cameras.

Sure, I love looking at photos years later, but there's something lost for
every moment snapped. It's the ability to be in the present. To absorb the
experience. To commit to the greatest camera of all: the memory. Not just the
picture. The feeling.

There were tribes not so long ago who threatened violence if you took their
picture. They felt you were stealing a piece of their soul.

I can understand the sentiment. So I am less astounded by ABC's desire to use
childbirth for its morning programming than I am by the about-to-be parents
allowing these cameras in.

Why isn't their reaction: "Sorry, but this is the most special and private
moment my husband and I can share. We don't want to have to duck around a
cameraman."

Why isn't their reaction: "If it's so important to you, why don't you film
your own and put it on TV?"

Instead, there are many couples willing to go live. Why? Is it because, in our
fascination with ourselves, we have become that weather girl Nicole Kidman
played in the film "To Die For," who cooed, "What's the point of doing
anything if it's not on TV?"

How sad. In storming the delivery rooms Tuesday, ABC is trying to do what
Kodak and others have been selling for years: capture the moment. But that's
an advertising slogan.

The truth is, you can never capture a moment. But if you're not careful, you
can give it away.



Contact MITCH ALBOM at 313-223-4581 or  albom@freepress.com. Catch "Albom in
the Afternoon" 3-6 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760) and simulcast on MSNBC 3-5
p.m.
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THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
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COLUMN
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