A Eulogy for Rosey Jetson

Rosey died

When they recalled

Her battery pack

And a replacement wasn’t manufactured

Due to newer models

Utilizing more eco-friendly

Energy sources

She was our maid

And she was a good one

Though on the surface

She may have appeared to be

Nothing more

Than a vacuum cleaner on wheels

She was more than that

She was a part of our family

When my grandfather Elroy passed away

Nearly thirty years ago

He asked us to take Rosey in

Even though, at that time,

Most of her wiring was faulty

And her head would occasionally spin

To the point of falling off

Still, we honored Grandpa Elroy’s dying wish

And asked our Robo-Cleaner to accept Rosey

As something akin to an antique

That it might have to work around

From time to time

Luckily for us, the Robo-Cleaner wasn’t affected

By Rosey at all

However

Rosey seemed to think the Robo-Cleaner

Was somehow related to her

And she became very fond of it

To the point of reading it stories

And polishing it while it squealed and whirred

Truthfully, the XB-500 was never a top-of-the-line model

Even back when Grandpa Elroy’s family first purchased it

But Rosey took great pride in her work

And we found that pride charming

No matter how much consternation
It could bring about

We would often ask Rosey how to spell her name

And depending on the day

She’d say with an ‘I’ or a ‘Y’

But if you brought up the lack of consistency

She would get very cross

And retire to the closet we kept her in

Usually for a day or two at least

The first time this happened

We were relieved to have a break from Rosey

As she was often underfoot

And acting like the dog from Peter Pan

Any suggestion made to her

That she should just behave like a normal

Robot from the past

And restrict herself to cleaning

Was met with mockery

But soon, we grew accustomed

To having such a nagging presence

In our lives

As centuries of mankind

Have turned human beings

Into the formless energy balls

We are today--

It was a nice reminder

That at one point

We were much more tactile

And needed the attention

Of others

Even if those “others”

Happened to be wearing an offensive

Maid costume

Like something out of a

Restoration comedy

When we realized

A lack of power

Would result

In the loss of Rosey

We stood her
In her favorite corner

Of the Quadra-Room

And made the biggest mess

We possibly could

She was thrilled

So excited

Even the Robo-Cleaner

Spit out its chamber

Of refuse

So that Rosey could feel

As needed as she did

All those years ago

When she was the newest model

She cleaned and cleaned

And the whole time

Her motor was running

Like it was straight

Out of the box

Then, slowly

She came to a stop

Her eyes flickered

And went dark

The home-ship had never been cleaner

And as we jettisoned Rosey

Out into the cosmos

As part of our daily trash-packet

We wondered what those pangs were

Reaching up through our chests

And tapping

On the back of our eyes

They might have been tears

But it seemed preposterous

After all, who would cry

Over losing a little help?