I just realized that we haven't talked anywhere near enough about my childhood imaginary friend Jex; who I secretly sort of believe in...in a very 'neighbor friend who moved when you were 4 and a half and you'll never ever see them again so they might as well not exist' sort of way.
I had a large assortment of return characters in my imaginary friend repoitoire, including Shelley Welley- who was beautiful and angry and stubbon and had long black hair, and Sicky Dickey- who was green and weak and had trouble keeping up. But Jex was my Best Friend.
Jex was never worried about anything. He had a solid escape plan for every situation. If I accidently made my kindergarten teacher yell at me, Jex would swing through the narrow ground level windows on a vine and swoop me up. We'd swing away to the mountains, where he had been stockpiling Oreo cookies for months. Dad and sister arguing about Aerosmith posters? Jex makes the livingroom curtains into a bridge that transports us to California, where we sing and live with The Beach Boys and drink Orange Juilus' all the time.
Jex was taller than me with darker hair that fell in his eyes (we here in the future might refer to them as "Indie Rock Bangs"). He wore jeans with holes in the knees and red t-shirts, and he never had to wear a coat (but he had to wear boots in the snow).
My parents were remarkably accomodating when it came to Jex. He got a place at the table if I asked politely. When we would drive to Coeur D' Alene to go to K-mart or something, I would shout "Mom! You gotta slow down the car! Jex is riding on his bike to catch up and you can't just keep speeding up like that!" And my mom would decelerate and I'd roll down my window and Jex would jump in. Sometimes Shelley Welley would come along on trips, but only because Jex wasn't interested in looking at My Little Ponies, and Shelley was.
Jex was no good at counting to twenty, but he had a better vocabulary than I did. Jex knew all about the magic of plants and could talk to my favorite dogs. He felt bad when I felt bad. Sometimes he felt worse than I did, and..at five years old..I was glad for it. Sometimes we would fight and we would have the worst of things to say to each other, each insult angrier than the last and more biting, more spiteful. But we always apologized, and then went back to discovering everything we hadn't discovered yet.
Posted by Sonya at February 26, 2005 03:01 AMSam moved away when I was 6. We had the same shiny blond bowl hair. I last heard he's a professional surfer. Then there was some girl in Nebraska. We were pen pals. I don't know how it happened but what a surreal thing for a kid. The only thing I know of this person is her handwriting and the frayed edges of her pinkish paper. I want Sam back.
Posted by: dave, sam's friend at February 26, 2005 03:17 PMWhat a beautifully expressive, evocative post. =) Despite my overactive imagination as a child, I never did have an imaginary friend, and, after reading your post, I'm starting to think I really missed out. I did, however, spend a lot of time imagining myself in the position of various other imaginary children, if that counts for anything.
Posted by: yasmine at February 27, 2005 05:34 AMI never had imaginary friends persay but I was absolutely CONVINCED that my stuffed animals had feelings. I had to make room for them in my bed (and sleep on the VERY EDGE myself) and I still feel bad if I see a stuffed animal face down on the floor. Tragedy!
Posted by: Em at February 27, 2005 10:28 AMMy niece had minnie. I can't say her uncles and cousins were too nice to her friend, including me.
Posted by: nathaniel at February 27, 2005 11:17 PMI got bored with email and decided that I wanted you to hear this song as soon as possible:
Sufjan Stevens "Detroit Lift Up Your Weary Head"
In the last hour or two I've described it as the best thing between BadlyDrawnBoy and Stereolab, not to mention the guy you always had an affinity for in high school in spite of his awkward nature. Seven years later you saw him in a bar, in a completely random city, and he had wonderfully come into his own and you were glad you had expected it. You shook hands and shared a drink. You nodded to yourself, feeling good about how you always knew he was solid.
Posted by: don't mind dancing dave at February 27, 2005 11:21 PMlinda was a very small shark who skated instead of walking, but on fins, not skates. she had a yellow hat that was also a crown. she used grommets as toilet holes.
and also, if you haven't seen the piece on imaginary kid friends in the february harpers, i'll send it to you.
Posted by: louella at February 28, 2005 12:29 PM