I always dreaded the days early in my career when an editor would say, “Grab the point and shoot,” as I ran out the door to cover breaking news.

I’m a writer, not a photographer.

I don’t know the first thing about cameras - no matter what my college transcript lists as credits.

We had a Kodak instant camera growing up, similar to a Polaroid. The “film” was a heavy cartridge that you loaded into the camera, and a photo would emerge and develop before your eyes.

That Kodak camera captured the important moments - birthday celebrations, holiday gatherings, new cars, remodels, and our dogs fresh from the groomer, because you know they wouldn’t look like that for long.

Those photos of family and friends evoke personal memories.

This idea of taking photos of news events never occurred to me, even though I wanted to see every photo of the “big fire” the night before and similar events when the newspaper arrived on the front steps.

In high school, and even in college, I hadn’t connected that I might have to be the one taking those photos of breaking news.

I was going to be a writer, not a photographer.

And I was blessed with fabulous photographers when I started in the newspaper business. They really captured the harrowing and heartbreaking moments on film, as well as making the mundane visually interesting.

All I had to do is talk to the people who witnessed the crash, fire or other news event, and watch as the events unfolded, standing off to the side.

I painted my pictures with words … the raging orange flames glowed and leapt skyward as a column of thick, black smoke rose from the abandoned storefront while firefighters pulled hose and ladders … you get the idea.

Fires lend themselves to spectacular imagery. More importantly, I told the people’s stories - those who experienced the loss of a home, business or loved one.

And the photographer was with me, capturing their stunned, lost expressions or tears as they talked.

We returned to the newsroom, and I went to work on the story, as they processed the film - yes, film.

Later, I saw their black and white photographs land on the city desk, as editors looked for the best of the images.

I learned the elements that made a good photo, how to crop a photo to make it stronger and best placement on a page.

But I was still a writer, not a photographer.

That was abundantly clear on those first assignments on my own with “the point and shoot” camera. “Just point and shoot,” the editor said.

The editor soon learned I need a little more instruction than that - like how to turn on the camera, take off the lens cap and not put my fingers in front of or anywhere near the lens.

And forget loading and unloading the film - I grew up with that “Kodak instant camera,” after all.

Said editor soon realized the gravity of the situation and had a photographer load the camera with a roll of 36, and then told me to shoot the entire roll.

One of the resulting 36 photos had to work, he reasoned.

One of those first assignments was covering actor Jack Palance, a Lattimer Mines native, speak to film students outside Harrisburg following his Oscar-winning role as Curly in City Slickers and famous one-handed push-ups on stage.

I sat off to the side in the auditorium and shot photos of Palance as he spoke about acting, and then repeated his one-handed push-up performance, showing the world he still had it in true coal-cracking style.

Others took photos that night too, including photographers from The Associated Press. I breathed a little easier at that - because we’d still have photos if none of my 36 panned out.

Surprisingly, my photos appeared on the front page the following day. I asked the editor why he didn’t use the AP photos.

“Yours were better,” he replied.

Encouraged, I thought maybe I am a writer and a photographer.

That is until the next time he sent me out with a loaded camera and told me to shoot the entire roll … and take an extra roll of film, just in case.

But I still don’t know how to load the camera, I said.

“Just shoot what you have. We’ll figure it out,” he said.

And out the door I went. I don’t remember if any of my later photos were good or bad, or just to fill a hole on a page.

I began to dread that darn camera, which after countless attempts, I still couldn’t load. I stopped trying.

But I continued to take photos.

Continued to watch the many photographers who passed through the newsroom over the course of 30 years.

And learned what I could from them - mostly through osmosis.

Those really good photographers, though, have what I believe is an intangible ability to see the magical in the mundane and capture that precise moment in time.

You can’t teach that, but I’ve aspired to the ideal.

After all, I am a writer, not a photographer.