By Carol Harrison
I try so hard to live in the moment -- I don't think ahead very much.
~Sarah McLachlan
We planned a bus tour of historic Halifax as the culmination of a ten-day Maritime holiday. Already we had seen so many things, taken rolls and rolls of film and made memories to last a lifetime. The day before, en route to our historic hotel, we discovered that navigating old Halifax, with its labyrinth of streets whose names occasionally changed without a change in direction, could prove difficult. That fear of getting lost again, coupled with the excitement of the day ahead, motivated us to finish breakfast early and head to the Halifax Wharf to catch our tour bus. After an uneventful drive we arrived with more than an hour to wait.
I try so hard to live in the moment -- I don't think ahead very much.
~Sarah McLachlan
We planned a bus tour of historic Halifax as the culmination of a ten-day Maritime holiday. Already we had seen so many things, taken rolls and rolls of film and made memories to last a lifetime. The day before, en route to our historic hotel, we discovered that navigating old Halifax, with its labyrinth of streets whose names occasionally changed without a change in direction, could prove difficult. That fear of getting lost again, coupled with the excitement of the day ahead, motivated us to finish breakfast early and head to the Halifax Wharf to catch our tour bus. After an uneventful drive we arrived with more than an hour to wait.
The sun shone in a cloudless sky, hinting at the warmth of the late summer day to come. My daughter and I wandered along an almost empty wharf while my husband went in search of a cup of coffee. With so few people enjoying this early Sunday morning hour, no one minded how often I stopped to take photos of the many types of boats anchored along the way. Nothing at home on the prairies could compare to the sights and sounds of the wharf.
Tall-masted ships, fun tour boats and older ships belonging to the Maritime Museum bobbed side by side in the relatively calm water. Then we spied a full-size version of Theodore Tugboat, the main character in a children's TV series that my grandchildren loved to watch. I snapped a few photos before we continued our walk.
As we continued exploring, a group of photographers captured my attention. These gentlemen carried expensive cameras, tripods and light meters. Once in a while they passed close enough to allow me to hear snippets of their conversation. My curiosity was piqued when I heard words like "lighting," "angles" and comments on scenes they planned to shoot. I wondered what they planned to film and when. Would we be able to watch a movie shoot? That would be a fantastic finish to a wonderful holiday.
I pushed these daydreams away as we walked back for a couple more photos of Theodore Tugboat. I positioned my daughter as close to the boat as possible. Just before I snapped the picture, one of the men spoke to me.
"Why don't you let me take a picture of you and your daughter? I'm sure you'd like that." As I turned to hand him my camera, he added a few words that caused me to hesitate. "I do have a condition. Well rather a two-part condition. First are you mother and daughter like we assume you are?" he asked, pointing to the other men carrying all the fancy camera equipment. "Secondly would you be willing to be in a video we are shooting?"
My thoughts rushed. How much time until the bus left? I glanced up and down the wharf hoping to see my husband rush toward us. Us in a video shoot? Now? Really? My face must have betrayed the confusion I felt.
He quickly added further explanation. "We're shooting a documentary about the life and times of Canadian and Maritime singer/songwriter Sarah McLachlan. Right now we're doing some background shots using ordinary people instead of actors. This particular shot requires a mother and young adult daughter to walk along the wharf and across the little bridge just beyond the tugboat. This would portray Sarah meeting her birth mother at this spot."
Before I could reply he added, "You do know who Sarah McLachlan is, don't you?"
"Yes I've heard of her," I replied.
Another quick glance at my watch revealed lots of time until the tour left, and since my husband had not returned from coffee, I thought, "How hard could it be to continue our walk hand in hand before crossing that little wooden bridge at the end of the wharf for their video?"
My daughter remained sceptical but I finally convinced her it wouldn't take too long. We should be finished well in time to make it to our tour. Besides, how hard could it be? I gave our consent to be filmed.
Four takes later, having finally slowed my daughter down from a power walk to a leisurely pace, we stopped mid-bridge, right at the mark the crew had placed for us. We gazed around at the buildings on one side, the water and ships on the other while deep in conversation for a brief time. On a prearranged signal from the crew we continued across the rest of the bridge.
"It's a wrap," the camera man said. "We have everything we need for this part of the video. Thanks so much." With those words we were dismissed from service and they continued discussing further scenes.
What an unexpected adventure! What a story to tell about our fun, short-lived acting career on the wharf in Halifax. Our video shoot finished before my husband returned from finding a cup of coffee. In all the excitement of the morning I forgot to ask when the video would air or any other particulars about the photo shoot. I wondered if anyone would even believe my story. I decided right then and there it didn't really matter. I would always have the memory of an unplanned adventure one bright, sunny morning on the Halifax wharf.
Tall-masted ships, fun tour boats and older ships belonging to the Maritime Museum bobbed side by side in the relatively calm water. Then we spied a full-size version of Theodore Tugboat, the main character in a children's TV series that my grandchildren loved to watch. I snapped a few photos before we continued our walk.
As we continued exploring, a group of photographers captured my attention. These gentlemen carried expensive cameras, tripods and light meters. Once in a while they passed close enough to allow me to hear snippets of their conversation. My curiosity was piqued when I heard words like "lighting," "angles" and comments on scenes they planned to shoot. I wondered what they planned to film and when. Would we be able to watch a movie shoot? That would be a fantastic finish to a wonderful holiday.
I pushed these daydreams away as we walked back for a couple more photos of Theodore Tugboat. I positioned my daughter as close to the boat as possible. Just before I snapped the picture, one of the men spoke to me.
"Why don't you let me take a picture of you and your daughter? I'm sure you'd like that." As I turned to hand him my camera, he added a few words that caused me to hesitate. "I do have a condition. Well rather a two-part condition. First are you mother and daughter like we assume you are?" he asked, pointing to the other men carrying all the fancy camera equipment. "Secondly would you be willing to be in a video we are shooting?"
My thoughts rushed. How much time until the bus left? I glanced up and down the wharf hoping to see my husband rush toward us. Us in a video shoot? Now? Really? My face must have betrayed the confusion I felt.
He quickly added further explanation. "We're shooting a documentary about the life and times of Canadian and Maritime singer/songwriter Sarah McLachlan. Right now we're doing some background shots using ordinary people instead of actors. This particular shot requires a mother and young adult daughter to walk along the wharf and across the little bridge just beyond the tugboat. This would portray Sarah meeting her birth mother at this spot."
Before I could reply he added, "You do know who Sarah McLachlan is, don't you?"
"Yes I've heard of her," I replied.
Another quick glance at my watch revealed lots of time until the tour left, and since my husband had not returned from coffee, I thought, "How hard could it be to continue our walk hand in hand before crossing that little wooden bridge at the end of the wharf for their video?"
My daughter remained sceptical but I finally convinced her it wouldn't take too long. We should be finished well in time to make it to our tour. Besides, how hard could it be? I gave our consent to be filmed.
Four takes later, having finally slowed my daughter down from a power walk to a leisurely pace, we stopped mid-bridge, right at the mark the crew had placed for us. We gazed around at the buildings on one side, the water and ships on the other while deep in conversation for a brief time. On a prearranged signal from the crew we continued across the rest of the bridge.
"It's a wrap," the camera man said. "We have everything we need for this part of the video. Thanks so much." With those words we were dismissed from service and they continued discussing further scenes.
What an unexpected adventure! What a story to tell about our fun, short-lived acting career on the wharf in Halifax. Our video shoot finished before my husband returned from finding a cup of coffee. In all the excitement of the morning I forgot to ask when the video would air or any other particulars about the photo shoot. I wondered if anyone would even believe my story. I decided right then and there it didn't really matter. I would always have the memory of an unplanned adventure one bright, sunny morning on the Halifax wharf.
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