Naked Misunderstanding

The author checks out a strip of negatives. (Photo by Jennifer Anders)

1979

My mother and two of her friends were sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet. Dozens of pictures were strewn on the floor.

At five years old, I was sitting on the floor near them. It was fun to watch the effect the pictures had on the three young women as they laughed and told stories.

One of the women, Kathy, kept doing something strange. One at a time, she would hold up some long, dark rectangular strips and peer at them. The strips were thin and had holes down the sides. They must have been delicate, because she gripped them gently by the edges. She kept holding the dark things up toward the window and putting her face close to them, squinting her eyes. 

I was mystified. From where I sat, I couldn’t see a thing on the dark strips. For a long time, I didn’t say anything. I was a quiet kid, so I just watched and listened and tried to figure it out.

“This is Christmas two years ago,” Kathy would say in triumph after staring at one of the things. Or, “I think this is the trip to Six Flags.”

Finally, curiosity won.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing to the black strips.

“Oh, these are negatives,” Kathy said. She motioned me over. “Do you want to see?”

My stomach lurched and I firmly shook my head no.

Kathy looked surprised, then shrugged and turned her attention back to the picture project.

Years later, I laughed when I realized my mistake. I had thought Kathy said the strips were “naked-ives.” In my mind, the mysterious black things were tiny pictures of naked people.

Fifteen years down the road, I would grow up and become a photographer. I started out shooting black and white film, which I developed in a darkroom and made my very own naked-ives.

-Melanie Patterson

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