“J” is for…Jetsons
f you are a fan of Hanna-Barbera cartoons, then you have watched all the simply drawn, repetitive, and yet charming representatives of a different time. I remember “the Flintstones” and waiting to see what Fred and Wilma named the baby—Pebbles!
|No one ever listened to him.|
|I'll never know what she saw in him.|
Then there was “Yogi Bear” whose incessant needs for pic-a-nic baskets frustrated poor little Boo-Boo. I identified with Boo-Boo; Yogi would have done much better foodwise if he had stuck to the usual bear diet of berries, carrion, and fish.
|Oh, the life of the future family~|
There were others, of course. But the one that I actually enjoyed the most was “The Jetsons” where the future was automated, and oh-so-much-easier than my life on the farm. If they wanted dinner, Rosie the Robot just pushed some buttons and out came a full-on feast; then Rosie did the dishes. Meanwhile, I was peeling potatoes while Mom fried chicken, and making all the other elements of a farm family dinner. The dishes were mountain of work for a family of seven.
The Jetsons had the same problems that faced all of humanity. Work. Transportation. Harsh and unrealistic bosses. Teen-agers angst. What to wear. Remembering important anniversaries and birthdays. The list is the same for the Jetsons as it is for us mere humans who still have to peel potatoes and wash dishes.
But, watching the Jetsons was an escape for this once-teenage girl.