Imaginary Friends

Yesterday, when I spoke with my mother, she told me that she had been watching a TV program in which a man told of visiting another country where the folks couldn’t pronounce his name. Thus, they called him “Geek-Geek.” What captivated my mother about the story is that she remembered that when I was a small kid—about two or three years old, she thought—I had a couple of imaginary friends who I named “Geek-Geek” and “Chip-Chip.”

Of course, I remember Chip-Chip and“Geek-Geek! One seldom forgets one’s closest friends, even if they only existed in one’s mind. I cannot remember the games I played with my imaginary playmates. I cannot remember what they look like. In my sixty-one-year-old mind—perhaps because of the cartoon character’s Chip and Dale and one of my playmates being named Chip-Chip—I picture them as chip monks. Of course they weren’t chip-monks or any other animals. Not even my totems. I am certain they were projections of my young self.

I now have no imaginary friends. That’s good. I have read that it is normal for children to create imaginary friends; it is abnormal for sixty-one-year-olds to invent imaginary friends. Not that I desire to be normal. However, I would much prefer for folks to consider me eccentric than abnormal.

So today, with my mother’s reminder, I remember and salute my imaginary friends, Chip-Chip and Geek-Geek, wherever they may be.