Even with a Nikon D300 digital camera by my side and countless compact discs filled with digital photographic files sitting on a nearby bookcase, I got a lump in my throat Thursday when the news hit that Kodak had filed for bankruptcy.

The AP story I was reading said the iconic company "could become the most storied casualty of a digital age that has whipped up a maelstrom of economic, social and technological change."

The story quotes Toronto's Ryerson University professor Robert Burley as saying, "Kodak played a role in pretty much everyone's life in the 20th century because it was the company we entrusted our most treasured possession to—our memories."

And how true is that?

We all have thousands — if not tens of thousands — of photographs that capture life's moments from our first steps and teeth to milestones like graduations, marriages, the births of our children and their children and even the last days of the lives of loved ones.

Some of us are organized and have our snapshots neatly categorized in file boxes or displayed in scrapbooks. Some of us have them heaped in containers with no sense of organization.

I use both systems, depending on how important the photos are.

When I read the article about Kodak's bankruptcy filing, my mind instantly went back to the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta.

I had the good fortune to attend those games from opening to closing ceremonies, and I had planned the trip for several years.

To capture every moment possible of what I considered the trip of a lifetime, I took three, 35mm cameras and 100 rolls of Kodak film with me.

My gear every day throughout the three weeks included a knapsack that was loaded with at least two of those cameras so I wouldn't have to change a lens in a bustling crowd.

Excited to see pictures before I went home, I found a camera shop that offered quick processing and submitted rolls of film on a daily basis.

Thanks to "double prints," I was able to give away many photos to people I met during the games.

When I returned home, I processed the remaining exposed rolls, carefully went through all of the negatives, painstakingly made a list of those I wanted duplicates of and sent off a reprint order.

After I received the order, I sat down and matched pictures to names and addresses and sent those colorful paper memories to folks all over the world —folks united for a few short weeks at a global party and who would most probably never see each other again—but for whom Kodak provided a brief glimpse and forever memory of those happenstance moments spent together.

In the digital age, of course, that entire process is but its own memory.

With digital cameras, smartphones and laptops, pictures of the Olympic Opening Ceremony—or any event, large or small—are zinging around the world two seconds into the production.

The push of a button puts photos in the hands of hundreds of people all at once—without clumsy rolls of film, chemicals and expense.

Add social media to the mix and a photo of someone's dog opening the refrigerator can go viral in minutes.

I started using company-owned digital cameras in 2000 and bought my own in 2004.

But I couldn't quite bring myself to give up my "real" cameras with their real film and resulting photos—I told myself I could straddle the line and use both technologies.

But digital photography proved too easy and fast and efficient—characteristics vitally important in today's journalism world.

In 2007, I upgraded from my little Minolta point-and-shoot to the Nikon D300, and I have to admit I haven't bought a roll of film in many years.

A trip to the Olympics this year will involve one camera and some 16GB media cards that will fit in a pocket and hold thousands of pictures.

So while I readily admit to being part of Kodak's downfall, I am still saddened by the potential demise of the iconic company that has allowed all of us to capture forever those brief daily and special moments that make up a lifetime.

I'm sorry, Kodak.

As Paul Simon sang of your Kodachrome, thanks for giving us the "nice bright colors" and "the greens of summers."

And thanks for the photographic memories that, because of you, we'll always have.