Posted by Keith | Posted in Advice, Family, Uncle Carl | Posted on 25-04-2012
I write this post with great heartache and pain, I can feel the emotions running through my veins, into my fingers and on to my iPad keyboard; today is a sad sad day for our nation. I sit here in mourning as I imagine all of you are as well. We have lost an international entity, someone who has touched the hearts and souls of countless people during their short time on this earth. An iconic figure has fallen today, a person of great stature and accomplishment is no longer with us and my heart goes out to those that knew this individual personally. In case you haven’t tuned into the news today or read the headlines of your daily paper, I am of course talking about untimely death of “Jetson”, my moniker. Today, I lay my nickname to rest, and say goodbye to an alter ego part of me that has served me well for many years.
With the death of Jetson, I am finally able to bring an end to a thirteen month stint of “riding dirty”. For those of you not familiar with that term, it means that I was basically driving around with expired tags. Yes, it may sound stupid to some of you, to ride around in constant fear of every patrol car that passes you by. To constantly worry about parking at a meter for fear of being discovered and fined for having no registration. But to me, these risks were totally acceptable, because the alternative was giving up my JET$ON license plate. My plate was truly all I had left of my former self; Jetson was a part of my life before Fefe and the kids came into it, and for some reason, I felt that I needed to hold on to it or risk losing who I truly was. So after moving here, I kept my North Carolina plates and just crossed my fingers.
I know some of you may be thinking, “it’s just a name, why the hell would you go to such extremes?”. In order to understand the motivation behind holding onto the name Jetson for dear life, you must first become Jetson. Folks, I think it’s time for a trip down memory lane. Strap on your seatbelts because it’s going to be a bumpy ride. As Jetson, I was a wild boy and I’m not so sure every can stomach the juicy glorious details of the exploits associated with such a character, so enter at your own risk.
I donned the name “Jetson” somewhere around 2002, back then I was literally like the gadget master, a new cell phone every 6 months to ensure I had the latest and greatest technology, several different ways to get in touch with me at any given moment, TVs in my car before TVs became the thing to do! Uncle Carl and I even pioneered the entire FaceTime movement, like 10 years ago. We were the first two people to own video phones for landlines! It was the dumbest $400 that I’ve ever spent. The fact that neither of us were ever home, combined with the fact that the technology just wasn’t that great means that we didn’t utilize our futuristic technology very often. Which means we were a far cry away from living the life of the actual Jetsons.
That didn’t stop me though; at one point, I was rocking a batman-esque utility belt featuring not one, but two cell phones, a Timeport 2way pager and a pocket camcorder. So one day while waiting to punch in at my totally awesome job as a cart-boy at Wegmans grocery store, one of my co-workers (are they even called co-workers in the grocery store industry?) saw my utility belt and made a comment that changed my life: “Dude, who do you think you are? George Jetson or something? I’m gonna start calling you Jetson, because you keep all the newest gadgets”. From that moment on, I stuck with the Jetson nickname.
I even went as far as accessorizing the name and making it into an earring. This was when Jetson went into overdrive, and really let his talents ring out. The earring was phenomenal; because of its large size and pure gaudiness, I often used it as bait for unsuspecting women who I viewed purely as prey. Okay this is starting to sound a bit stalkerish & I’m starting to creep myself out. But out of sense of duty to my readers, I must continue. Many times, the Jetson earring would catch the eye of a naïve girl at the bar and she would ask a harmless question: “what does your earring say?” and just like that, I had a bite and would begin reeling her in with lines similar to “It says Jetson baby, that’s what they call me because I’m so futuristic, why don’t you let me show you what the future is going to look like”. WOW, actually writing it out like that makes me realize that my previous assertion of my self image as a monumental playboy was totally off base, I honestly can’t believe that line worked for me, smh.
The funny thing about being Jetson is that unlike most nicknames that are utilized by family and close friends, my nickname was used primarily by those that did not know me that well. Which makes it strange that I wanted to hold onto it for so long. I guess it was the fact that the time period of my life that I lived as Jetson was a time that I looked at myself as the muthafreakin man! And now I’m just a Dad and Husband who tries to keep up with the latest and greatest gadgets but falls short on nearly all accounts due to my continually growing amount of responsibilities. But as I sit here and write this post, I realize that being Jetson, in no way, shape, or form can compare to the man that I have become since becoming a husband and father. That realization only allows me to let go and be completely happy being “Keith”