Meet the New Camera

Flap, flap, flap.

The rotor blades above my head spun faster and faster as I strapped myself into the back seat of my employer’s helicopter. With the flick of a toggle switch, a panel of electronic news gathering equipment came to life in front of me. A monitor on top of the panel glowed with an image of the belly of the bird from the camera outside. Somewhere, there was a crime scene waiting for us to fly over and record tape for the evening news.

Before I put on my headset, I heard my cell ringing from the clip on my belt. Thinking that this was a fine time for someone to call, I reached down and pulled the black box lose from the clip. As I raised the ringing box to my ear, I dug my thumb into its side flipping it open.

“This is Ken.”

“Hey Ken its Father Dan.”

I could barely hear his voice over the beat of the rotor blades but I could tell he was excited.

“Hey you know that table where we keep all of the church bulletins and the prayer books?”

In my minds eye I immediately saw a little table stacked with small leather bound books with a gold cross stamped on each cover standing by the front door of the church.

“That table is now covered with boxes with ‘Sony’ printed all over them.”

The new camera had arrived.



I wanted to jump out of the helicopter and run over to check out the new equipment but that would have to wait until Sunday. For now I had a date with the yellow crime scene tape and flashing blue lights.

Buying a camera for this mission trip proved to be a harder task than I had anticipated. I thought the entry level prosumer camera like a Canon GL2 or a Sony VX2100 would be more than enough camera to document the work done by the mission crew. After a little research I discovered that these cameras may have good enough image quality for what we wanted, but they didn’t have some of the bells and whistles that I have grown accustomed to with the professional grade camera I use every day.


To me, sound is just as important as images in a video. I knew I wanted a camera that would accommodate a good quality shot microphone so I could capture clean crisp sound of all of those African hymns they sing in church. With the cameras I listed above, controlling sound quality became an issue. Sure, there are enough products out there to slap onto these cameras to make them do what you want but why not buy something that already has these features built in. You can spend just as much money buying the add-ons as you would buy the next camera up the ladder. I focused in on cameras like the Canon XL 2, Sony PD-170, and the Panasonic DVX100B.

Price became the next issue. These cameras had the features I wanted but I felt they were too expensive for the church’s mission trip budget. So I started my search for the right camera by looking at used cameras. I used a Sony PD-150 a few years ago in Iraq and knew that it was more than enough camera for the job. Since Sony only sells the PD-170, I knew I could find a used 150 at a good price. Father Dan wasn’t so sure he wanted to spend the church’s money on used equipment but I think he went along with me because he trusted my judgment.

While combing all of the different web sites that sell new and used equipment, I stumbled onto a site selling a brand new PD-170 for less than used PD-150s. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I sent the address to Fr. Dan since he was the one with the key to the church vault. We both knew that something wasn’t quite right with the deal but we needed to investigate. If we could get a new camera in our price range, everyone would feel more comfortable about the purchase.

Sure enough there was a major catch with the cheap price. The 170’s on this site came from Europe. They were the camera only. No microphone, batteries or AC power source. No lens hood, owners manual, and most importantly, no warranty. If we bought all of that stuff to go with the cheap camera, we would have spent just as much money as if we bought the camera new in a store here in town. Deal or no deal? We said no deal.

Fr. Dan found other sites selling the cameras for a little more than the site I found but these sites were still much less than the professional camera houses I was familiar with through my job. Why not check them out as well. He found another shady deal that folks not as knowledgeable as us might fall for. These sites wanted to sell us cameras straight from Japan. They had all the support gear but still no U.S. warranty and no owner’s manual. Now I know I could get the manual off of the internet. But I wasn’t buying the camera. The congregation of the church put up the money for this piece of high tech equipment so Fr. Dan and I felt a one year warranty was worth the extra money.

Finally, Fr. Dan found a site that was selling U.S. cameras for a price that was not much more than the used cameras I found at the professional camera retailers. We ordered the fine camera you see here in these pictures. I didn’t know this but the PD-170 comes with a wide angle lens attachment. The used 150s did not have this piece. If we would have bought a used camera then bought a wide angle lens, the used camera would have cost just as much as the new one we ended up with. I think God was watching over us as we went through this difficult task.

I pursued the Sony over the Canon and Panasonic for several reasons. In my job as a photojournalist, I have used several different brands of video cameras. Sony has always held the title of being the industry leader in professional grade cameras. But I didn’t let a reputation be the only deciding factor. Back in 2003, I took a little trip to a country called Iraq. My employer handed me a new PD-150 to use while chasing the Army across a sandy desert. The camera performed up to expectations even after I dropped it off a tripod onto an asphalt roadway. It took a lick’n and kept on tick’n. I knew the Sony would stand up to the harsh environment I will experience in Africa. I’ve seen the Networks use these cameras in many different situations like war zones and hurricanes. It its good enough for them, then it should be wonderful for our little mission trip.

A Blessing In My Mailbox

The mail box door stood slightly ajar. Yeah, I bet the box is packed full, I thought as I walked across the narrow asphalt street in front of my humble home. My wife was out of town for the week so the daily ritual of emptying the mail box fell on to my shoulders. Only, I never remember to check the box everyday. Usually I think to look inside the black, elongated metal box standing on the opposite side of the street from my driveway a day or two before Heather returns home. By then, our letter carrier has crammed countless white envelopes into the tube until he can’t get the door all the way shut.

I never think to check the mail box because I never get any mail. My wife handles all the finances of the Corn household so all the bills are addressed to her. She also gets catalogs and various magazines. Heather’s family also sends her, Peter, or Ashley parcels from all over the continental states. All my family lives in one town a couple of hours drive from us so they wait until we are visiting if they have something they want to pass into my hands. I think I get one magazine a month. But Heather always puts it on the kitchen table so I will pick it up and take it to work with me since I don’t have time to read at home. No, I don't have a reason to remember to look inside that box mounted on a pole at the end of the drive.

Only when the family is gone on an adventure and the box is bursting at the seams with mail do I ever empty out the mail box. Even though I know nothing in the enormous stack of thin packages has my name above the address of my little piece of American pie, I never can resist the urge to flip through each envelope. If I never check the mail, why would I carefully read the return addresses to see who sent each of these lovely pieces of correspondence? It must be a habit born in the days when my parents asked me to accompany them across the busy road to see if the mail man left something in the big galvanized steel box perched on top a rusty metal post. When you pulled the pile out of the box you always look through it while you waited for traffic to clear so you could cross the road again.

So I flipped through the stack on my way up the driveway knowing nothing was addressed to me. Then I noticed a letter with my name on it. On closer inspection, I realized my name was written in my own hand writing. Seeing my own name written in the hand writing my father used to say only a code breaker could read caused the circuits in my brain to overload with increased computing activity. What in the heck was this? Then my brain finally recalled the memory of sending out a pile of mission trip letters I sent out a couple of weeks ago. In each letter I had out in a self-addressed envelop in case the recipient wanted to send me a little something special for my trip.

Puzzlement and wonder quickly turned to excitement as I slowly realized I had a donation in my hand. Without knowing it, my feet picked up the pace a few notches on the way back to the house. As soon as I walked through the door to the kitchen, I flung the stack of bills and credit card solicitations down on the kitchen table keeping my self-addressed envelope in my hand. I dug my finger up under the flap on the back and tore the paper down the length of the white rectangle. Out slid a smaller envelope with Church of the Messiah printed across the top. It was one of those tithe and offerings envelopes like the ones I used to take from the back of the church pew and draw on during service when I was a kid. I had included these special envelopes with the self- addressed envelope in the mission letter. The church bookkeeper needs the tithe envelope so the church could send the giver a tax credit form at the end of the year. That’s right, give to my cause and I can you get a tax write off. Not a bad deal I’m telling ya.

“All right,” I said to myself knowing I had just received another donation. A couple of folks I have pitched my cause to have already slid me a buck or two. So the slow process of raising two thousand dollars was in full swing. I figured if I asked a lot of people for a little bit of the family finances I could raise the plane ticket in six months. I have a lot of asking to do.

I looked down at the amount line to see how much closer I had just gotten to my goal. When I saw the three figures written in front of the printed dollar sign on the envelop, the lower half of my jaw dropped to the floor. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Just to make sure it wasn’t a mistake, I held the sealed envelope up to the sun light pouring into the kitchen window. Through the thin sides of the tithe envelope I could clearly see the check inside. The three digits on the check matched the ones printed on the outside of the envelope.

I held one quarter of my plane ticket in my hand. Praise Jesus. A huge weight lifted off my shoulders. If I was over one quarter of the way to my goal this early in the game I was going to be home free. I did a little victory dance around the kitchen sing out “thank you Lord, thank you Lord.”

Seriously, I am honored that one of our friends would trust me with such a large donation. This tells me that I’m following the right path because God is blessing me with the tools I need to go on the trip. It also makes me realize that I have a responsibility to honor those who are contributing to my plane ticket fund by producing the best possible documentaries I have the talent to produce. I’m excited about visiting a place I have never been but I know that it will not be a vacation. I will work hard knowing the equipment I’m using was purchased with offerings from supporters of our mission. I will use my time wisely knowing my presence in Africa was paid for by people who believe in me and my calling. Thank you to all of my supporters who have sent me money for my travel expenses. I will do my best to honor the hard earned dollars that you so graciously entrusted to me. May God bless you all.