I have a preschool graduation video in which a woman’s rear plays a prominent role. Camouflage is not a flattering pattern for her.

I have footage from a karate demo that shows more of a mom’s hair than it does of Big Guy’s self-defense moves. She really needed a touch-up on her roots, too.

I have myriad basketball movies with an assortment of passing legs, except in that case I don’t mind because I know I’m the one in the way. I don’t expect people to leap over me during a game and, besides, I can edit them out later.

But it’s impossible to edit out part of a song or poem without losing something. That’s why I went to Boots’ Christmas program this week armed with a tripod taller than my kids. I’ve got ‘em this time, I thought. Fanny woman and stylist-deprived mom won’t foil me. I’ll simply film over them.

Someone else got me instead. Hail Mary Dad stretched his arms over his head and blocked my camera with his iPhone. All the more reason to resent the Mac empire.

Yes, I get that we’re all jockeying for limited space and a small window for preserving memories of our little darlings that we can use to embarrass them with when they start dating. I understand that on a military base few folks have family close enough to scoot over for a school program, so we’re all taking videos to share.

Most people, though, are at least courteous about it. Accidental blocks and pass-bys are going to happen. So will random chatter. One mom used to apologize when she started talking while I was filming soccer. She didn’t need to, because I actually like that. I consider it color commentary.

Still, not everyone is conscious of minding their multimedia manners.

The camera-blocking bloke this week, for example, knew I was behind him because minutes earlier I’d been sitting by him. I got up after I got a look when my tripod tapped his toe. “I’ll just move a row back,” I said cheerfully.

I got up, checked around to make sure I wasn’t blocking anyone, extended the tripod its full 57 inches and started taping.  Shortly into the program, first one arm, then another went up as if Hail Mary Dad were signaling for a touchdown. The edges of his sleeve brushed the edge of my video, but at least Boots was still visible.

The dad must have checked his video and not liked what he saw. I can relate – I had the same reaction when I got home. He zoomed in and stretched his arms higher, higher, higher, until his iPhone was directly in front of my lens. I have lovely footage of his screen. At least it was aimed at Boots.

I’m hoping this guy doesn’t have a second-grader so I can get more kid and less smart phone during Big Guy’s concert Wednesday. On the off chance that he does have another child, I’m going to be ready.

Does anyone know if they sell ladders on post? I’d hate to have to make a trip to Barstow.

Copyright 2010 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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