I have this morning ritual that plays out like finest of Swiss clockwork. Each night I set two alarms on my phone for the next morning, one for the buttcrack of morning and a second for fifteen minutes past the buttcrack of morning in case I just can’t drag my old and tired ass out of bed. Inevitably I wake up ten minutes before the first alarm, open the clock app and toggle both alarms off. I finagle myself to the edge of the bed, taking care not to make any sudden or reaching movements that might send me into a fit of back spasms and then I perch myself on the edge of the mattress. After some grumbling under my breath that would make any sufferer of Tourette’s proud, I force myself to shuffle out of the dark room, grab some clothes from my dresser and head into the bathroom like any self-respecting 40-something. Still groggy I sit on the toilet, unlock my phone, and do the e-mail/social media rounds to catch myself up on the previous day/night. The last thing I check is Facebook and there are only two reasons I still have an account at that hellhole. One is to keep up with a longtime friend who pretty much only uses that app to stay in contact, and the other is to scroll through my feed until I find the latest in a very long line of daily dad jokes from another friend, Jason Gross. Without fail I end up rolling my eyes while chuckling and groaning, but no matter how groan-inducing, I come back each and every day for Jason’s latest dad joke.
I wish I could remember the first time I met Jason, but truth be told it seems like I’ve always known him. As long as I’ve been in the game of writing online and podcasting, Jason seems to have always been there as cohort, trading comments on pieces we each wrote for our sites, or when he’d invite me on one of his many nostalgic podcast endeavors. Over the last decade and a half, he’s been a constant fixture in the nostalgia community, whether it’s contributing to the League of Extraordinary Bloggers assignments, popping up at the annual RetroCon in Oaks, PA, or co-founding his own network of retro-themed podcasters and writers with The Retro Network. You might have known him as Jason, @RD80s or @SockofFleagulls on Twitter, or as M.A.S.K. character Retro in that toy community. But sadly, I have no memory of when we first crossed paths, which is weird, because Jason had a huge impact on me as a person and as writer/storyteller.
Here’s the thing, Jason dreamed big, and he put in the work when it came to running a website and writing about nostalgia. And by putting in the work, I mean the constant grind of writing that is the only path to becoming a decent writer and storyteller. His consistent output of articles on Rediscover the 80s from 2011 until present is commendable with what seems like thousands of pieces. On top of this he had a whole slew of different YouTube series he did for both his personal site and TRN, not to mention the plethora of podcasts he produced and charismatically hosted. This dedication to his craft, his unending enthusiasm for sharing his memories, and his kind and upbeat attitude drove me to be a better writer, a better podcaster, a better storyteller. The fact that he did this while being a husband and a father to three kids, a deacon in his church and working full time is inspiring.
But here’s the thing about Jason, his dreams and his goals weren’t just centered on himself. Jason was nothing of not generous and giving and I say this because for someone who carved such a prominent place in the nostalgic/retro community, he always seemed to use that voice and platform to help lift others up. I can’t count how many times he devised a project that used the audience he built to point to other writers, other podcasters, and YouTubers. Whether it was the various newsletters he devised that always boosted other voices, inviting writers on to his shows who had never thought to podcast themselves, or with the formation of The Retro Network, building the framework that others could use to launch their own shows or have a place to share their writing. For me personally, when I decided to end my long-running project Branded in the 80s, Jason and his co-founder Mickey immediately reached out to offer free hosting to archive the site and/or my sporadic podcast, just so that it wouldn’t disappear from the web. Jason was invested in the community and all its voices.
And it kills me that I never told him any of this, and now I can’t. We lost Jason a few days ago, and it doesn’t feel like that statement makes any sense. I know our time on this planet is short (all too well), but I’ll never be prepared to say goodbye to a friend. I count myself lucky because I got to meet Jason in person on a few occasions at RetroCon. I got a chance to walk the floor for a bit with him one year and just talk about our glorious memories of being kids. He also lent some advice and support as I was expecting my first child during one of our meet ups, another way that he inspired, as a father.
We later decided to form a band called “Dad Jeans”. (I think Jason would have appreciated that joke…)
I’ve always feared the day when someone in our community that I was close to would pass because I know that there is a double edge sword waiting to cut deep in the aftermath. You see, because Jason was so prolific and shared his voice in so many ways, we have a huge wealth of material that he leaves behind with which we can revisit and celebrate him. Podcasts, articles, and videos of him sharing what he loved. He even self-published a short memoir titled Biking to Buzzard’s that you can pick up at Amazon for the Kindle. This is an amazing gift he left us in his wake. While this is great, it’s also going to hurt because I know that he’s gone and there aren’t going to be anymore dad jokes waiting for me to start my day. No more RetroCon meet ups.
As a husband and father, I grieve for his wife and three wonderful children, whose loss I can’t comprehend. But I hope at some point they can appreciate how far his impact reached, how many people he reached. And I thank them for graciously sharing him with all of us. Jason was a shining example of the best of us, and I hope that somewhere he can see that he was truly loved.
If you knew Jason and want to help his wife and three amazing kids during this struggle, there is a GoFundMe set up to ease the burden of Jason’s sudden passing.
I’d like to leave you with the last picture Jason uploaded to Facebook…
