Did you watch The Jetson’s and wonder if any of that futuristic fantasy would come true?
Well, airports have moving walkways.
George talked to his watch the way we talk to Siri.
Jane’s daily phone chat with her mother looks like Skype and Facetime. In fact, recently, the Hilarious Sister introduced our Mother to Facetime. A concept difficult to grasp, for an 82-year old amid the fog of dementia.
“Are we live?” “Can she see us?” my Mother asked.
My sister said, “Mom, it’s just like the Jetsons!”
She got it.
The Jetson’s lived in a completely push button world. In fact, Jane’s morning fitness routine concentrated only on exercises to prevent “push button finger.” Of course, she watched the Modern Mother’s Muscle Tone workout on a 3-D flat panel TV.
Lately, from the moment I wake up in the morning until I go to bed at night, I’ve been feeling like I live with the Jetson’s. No, the bed doesn’t fold up into a toaster and eject me like a Pop Tart. Of course not, I rely on my cell phone for that pulse-pounding leap to the floor, with my selection of a “bell tower” as an alarm.
The thing is, I don’t feel so much like Jane with her cute haircut, and button earrings; I feel more like Rosey….the robot. It is not only that technology and gadgets have made life easier; we now do things so mindlessly. Robotically, in fact.
While washing my face with a sonic facial cleanser, I am on auto-pilot. No need to wake up, open my eyes and focus, because a quick “Beep!” and I am prompted to move from my forehead to the rest of the t-zone. The next “Beep!” prompts me to move to my right cheek. Two more “Beeps!” and I am freshly scrubbed.
I forego singing the ABC’s to make sure my teeth are adequately brushed. My sonic toothbrush, which sounds like a mad hornet trapped in my mouth, tells me how long to brush my teeth, signaling when it is time to move from one area of my mouth to the next one.
The morning continues with a background symphony of rings, whistles, and dings, each alerting me to the next task at hand. Text messages sounds like a clown car horn. Email is soft bing.
The old school drip coffee maker, (NOT a K-Cup brewer) fires off five shrill beeps when it is finished brewing. Completely unnecessary because I am standing nearby waiting for my caffeine.
That caffeine is the charge for my robot battery. When I am home all day, I scoot around the house like Rosey. Spinning, pivoting, and changing direction quickly reacting to every alert.
BIZZ! The washer stopped.
BEEP! Oven is hot.
DING! Timer is done.
Beep….Beep…Beep. Microwave is finished.
BUZZ! Clothes in the dryer need to be folded.
CHIRP! Dishwasher is programmed for delayed start…but the door is ajar.
The one thing NOT making a sound at our house? A house phone.
My how times have changed. Things have come full circle. We are now so terribly modern, we don’t have a land line!
Sadly, the Jetson’s fantastic and fascinating Food-A-Rac-A-Cycle, which instantly served a variety of menu items at the push of a button, has never come to fruition.
Maybe that’s a good thing. We don’t need faster food.
We’ve been pushing buttons for a few decades already, and have progressed to touch screens and motion sensing screens. Hanna-Barbera could never have imagined that by 2013 our fingers would be the least of our worries.
How could they have imagined, bellies and fannies would be the real problem areas in Orbit City by 2013?
Then again, maybe they did.
There is something vaguely familiar about Rosey’s figure as she scoots through the house.