Long-lost invisible friend called
Guest Column
Melissa Harman
Issue date: 3/2/07 Section: Opinion
- Page 1 of 1
If I'm like most people, and I think I am at least one-fourth of the time, I had an invisible friend back in the day. It was a boy. His name was Olga. Yes, that's a boy's name.
OK, wait, no it's not. I just checked Babynames.com. Damn.
Anyways, Olga lived in this large tree in my backyard. Then we had to cut the tree down, so he moved under my bed. And then one day he was gone. Just like that.
Believe me, I looked everywhere. I even hung up "MISSING PERSON" signs. Apparently, no one's seen him.
And so now I wonder, I wah-wah-wah-wah-wonder. Why? Ah-why-why-why-why-why … he ran away. And I wonder … where he will staaayeeeaayyy.
My little Olga. Or maybe he was big Olga. I'm really not too sure.
Was it something I said? Was it the whole cutting down his home thing? Was it him having to live under my bed next to my junk collection?
Maybe it was me giving him what I now know to be a girl's name.
But come on, I was a young tyke. And Babynames.com didn't exist back then.
Maybe something happens when we get older. It was much easier when we were younger to say, "DON'T SIT THERE! You almost sat on my invisible friend!" Now we just let them get squished.
These days, choosing to defend your invisible friend would result in two things: 1) Your visible friends would diminish at an exponential rate. 2) Online solitaire would become your forte.
So … has anyone kept in touch with their invisible friends? I asked my roommate, Bertha*, and she said that her invisible friend moved to Alaska when she moved to L.A. They apparently were pen pals for a while, but then lost touch. Why did they lose touch?
"It's hard to get mail in Alaska."
Right.
So where are they now? Where do our invisible friends go when we stop caring about them?
I imagine this magical place where all the invisible friends across the country come together and do fun invisible things like swinging on invisible swings and playing invisible croquet … probably somewhere in Idaho.
I end this with a simple plea: Olga … if you're reading this … I'd like to be reunited for a number of reasons: 1) It'd feel so good, 2) I miss our games of hide-and-seek, and 3) There's this tree by my apartment that I think you would really enjoy.
Find me … 'cause I can't find you.
* Name changed for reputation maintenance purposes.
OK, wait, no it's not. I just checked Babynames.com. Damn.
Anyways, Olga lived in this large tree in my backyard. Then we had to cut the tree down, so he moved under my bed. And then one day he was gone. Just like that.
Believe me, I looked everywhere. I even hung up "MISSING PERSON" signs. Apparently, no one's seen him.
And so now I wonder, I wah-wah-wah-wah-wonder. Why? Ah-why-why-why-why-why … he ran away. And I wonder … where he will staaayeeeaayyy.
My little Olga. Or maybe he was big Olga. I'm really not too sure.
Was it something I said? Was it the whole cutting down his home thing? Was it him having to live under my bed next to my junk collection?
Maybe it was me giving him what I now know to be a girl's name.
But come on, I was a young tyke. And Babynames.com didn't exist back then.
Maybe something happens when we get older. It was much easier when we were younger to say, "DON'T SIT THERE! You almost sat on my invisible friend!" Now we just let them get squished.
These days, choosing to defend your invisible friend would result in two things: 1) Your visible friends would diminish at an exponential rate. 2) Online solitaire would become your forte.
So … has anyone kept in touch with their invisible friends? I asked my roommate, Bertha*, and she said that her invisible friend moved to Alaska when she moved to L.A. They apparently were pen pals for a while, but then lost touch. Why did they lose touch?
"It's hard to get mail in Alaska."
Right.
So where are they now? Where do our invisible friends go when we stop caring about them?
I imagine this magical place where all the invisible friends across the country come together and do fun invisible things like swinging on invisible swings and playing invisible croquet … probably somewhere in Idaho.
I end this with a simple plea: Olga … if you're reading this … I'd like to be reunited for a number of reasons: 1) It'd feel so good, 2) I miss our games of hide-and-seek, and 3) There's this tree by my apartment that I think you would really enjoy.
Find me … 'cause I can't find you.
* Name changed for reputation maintenance purposes.
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