Jackie The Soc Slayer

The Move

Hank Williams played on the radio in Mom's truck. Mom is a stereotypical "Southern Momma" and yes, she is strict and will whip you with her flyswatter if she has to. I maybe from the south but I'm not "country". I didn't inherit Mom's southern accent. I talk normal. Mom is a fan of country music and I'm not, I'm a fan of The Monkees. I say The Monkees are cool, Mom says it's crap. Well, I think country is crap! I think she's crap sometimes. I disrespect her sometimes but I love her, she's my mom. 

We pulled into the driveway our new home. It was a junky two story place.

"Here it is, babe. Our new home."

"It's a dump."

"You listen here girl! You will grow to like it! We moved here because I grew up here, understand!? Mamaw and Papaw died and left us this house!"

I stayed silent as we got out of the car.

"This place was my childhood, the tire swing is still in the yard, the barn is still standing too."

The house was in the country part of Tulsa not very far from the town.

We walked inside. 

In my new room, I was going to put my posters up with thumbtacks. Harmless, right? To Mom, nope! She walked in on me.

"Get em' off my damn wall!"

I took what I put so far back down. These posters were from those teen magazines with Davy Jones and Bobby Sherman. I always get the ones with Mike, Micky, Peter, and Davy and keep them to hang. 

We everything unpacked. Mom was making dinner, she always makes country food like beans and cornbread. I was turning the radio dial to see what was on. I found The Monkees! Last Train to Clarksville was playing. Mom noticed as she gave me my bowl of beans and a piece of cornbread.

"Turn that crap off!"

Mom switched it to country.

"That's more like it."

She sat down and started eating.

"Monkees, huh, they act like monkeys," Mom mumbled to herself.

"Well, the music you listen to sounds like drunks in a bar."

"Shut up an' eat!"

We ate our dinner.