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I'm a Gen X family man, recently transplanted to the Sunshine State.

The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pair of boots -- but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.

He would answer to 'Hi!' or to any loud cry,
Such as 'Fry me!' or 'Fritter my wig!'
To 'What-you-may-call-um' or 'What-was-his-name!'
But especially 'Thing-um-a-jig!'

'His form is ungainly -- his intellect small --'
(So the Bellman would often remark)
'But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
Is the thing that one needs with a Snark.'

--Lewis Carroll, from The Hunting of the Snark