Girlchild by Tupelo Hassman Page A
Authors: Tupelo Hassman
Tags: Contemporary, Young Adult
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Mrs. Hendrix had telephoned the worker on an office holiday to report that her house had caught on fire the night before and when the police came to the home to investigate the fire, they discovered marijuana in the home and arrested Mrs. Hendrix for possession of narcotics. The worker was as sympathetic as possible about Mrs. Hendrix’s arrest but both the worker and Mrs. Hendrix had talked about the use of marijuana on earlier occasions and Mrs. Hendrix was on notice that this was illegal. She was quite distressed in her telephone call of 10-13 and the worker did pay a home visit on 10-14. The damage of the fire itself was not so substantial that the house could not be lived in.
Mrs. Hendrix described the event of her arrest, and apparently one policeman accompanied the fire trucks to the scene of the fire, and while all of the children were out in the street and the blaze had been extinguished, the policeman found some marijuana and a cigarette roller in the living room. Mrs. Hendrix resisted his attempt to arrest her and she herself states that she used some very bad language in resisting the arrest. He eventually forced her into a patrol car and she was booked the night of 10-11-69 at the Santa Cruz City Jail. In her possession at the time of the arrest were several marijuana cigarettes found in her purse, which she stated
had been given to her by a hitchhiker who used this gift as a payment for the ride.
Telling stories is an important Calle skill and Mama gets the star. I know this even without V. White making it clear as the black and white on the patrol car that took Mama downtown after her house caught fire and her temper with it. But I also know that whether those stories are true or not doesn’t matter once Johnny Law’s car is headed to the precinct with you in the back. Right or wrong, once that door is slammed shut, it’s hard to open it back up. The Officer made short shrift of the Constitution, and ignoring the devastation on the faces of four little boys standing on a smoky sidewalk, he took their mama away. And she never quite made it back. Despite her creation of a phantom hitchhiker, despite her curses, and despite the promises of the Fourth Amendment, Mama never did escape the damage done to her reputation after taking that ride downtown. Despite the promises of equal opportunity and protection under the law , so rich in the air in 1969, that night her arrest record got all shuffled up with her social-services record, and soon the childcare she got so she could go to college was canceled, and with it her courses, and Mama went back to the school of hard knocks.
birds in flight
B etween her blackout nights and Alka-Seltzer mornings, life with Mama is a tricky one. Winston Dean’s the oldest, which means he holds the record for putting up with it the longest. I was only barely rolling over when Winston turned fifteen, folded Gene Jr., Ronnie, and Bobby under his wing, and set out to find the delinquent fisherman and cast their lines alongside him. Before I was old enough to say don’t go, my big brothers had already gotten in their Dodge and gotten out.
The Hendrix Four had their bad daddy, and now they have each other. For them, Mama was a force to be survived, a storm to be weathered, and now she’s a post-office box. But ten is too young to pull off fifteen, especially without the benefit of facial hair, and anyway, I don’t have any father to run to, delinquent or not. I’m not just passing through here. Mama’s all I’ve got.
tent city
T he last weekend of July is Revival Time on the Calle, courtesy of the Lions Club or the Elks or the Kiwanis, or whoever adopts animal names and funny hats most of the year but for one weekend turns their attention to the lost sheep on the wrong side of the tracks. For three nights the Calle’s drunks and gamblers, its freaks and creeps, move their sideshow from the Truck Stop and Hobee’s to a giant tent set up in the dirt at
Mrs. Hendrix had telephoned the worker on an office holiday to report that her house had caught on fire the night before and when the police came to the home to investigate the fire, they discovered marijuana in the home and arrested Mrs. Hendrix for possession of narcotics. The worker was as sympathetic as possible about Mrs. Hendrix’s arrest but both the worker and Mrs. Hendrix had talked about the use of marijuana on earlier occasions and Mrs. Hendrix was on notice that this was illegal. She was quite distressed in her telephone call of 10-13 and the worker did pay a home visit on 10-14. The damage of the fire itself was not so substantial that the house could not be lived in.
Mrs. Hendrix described the event of her arrest, and apparently one policeman accompanied the fire trucks to the scene of the fire, and while all of the children were out in the street and the blaze had been extinguished, the policeman found some marijuana and a cigarette roller in the living room. Mrs. Hendrix resisted his attempt to arrest her and she herself states that she used some very bad language in resisting the arrest. He eventually forced her into a patrol car and she was booked the night of 10-11-69 at the Santa Cruz City Jail. In her possession at the time of the arrest were several marijuana cigarettes found in her purse, which she stated
had been given to her by a hitchhiker who used this gift as a payment for the ride.
Telling stories is an important Calle skill and Mama gets the star. I know this even without V. White making it clear as the black and white on the patrol car that took Mama downtown after her house caught fire and her temper with it. But I also know that whether those stories are true or not doesn’t matter once Johnny Law’s car is headed to the precinct with you in the back. Right or wrong, once that door is slammed shut, it’s hard to open it back up. The Officer made short shrift of the Constitution, and ignoring the devastation on the faces of four little boys standing on a smoky sidewalk, he took their mama away. And she never quite made it back. Despite her creation of a phantom hitchhiker, despite her curses, and despite the promises of the Fourth Amendment, Mama never did escape the damage done to her reputation after taking that ride downtown. Despite the promises of equal opportunity and protection under the law , so rich in the air in 1969, that night her arrest record got all shuffled up with her social-services record, and soon the childcare she got so she could go to college was canceled, and with it her courses, and Mama went back to the school of hard knocks.
birds in flight
B etween her blackout nights and Alka-Seltzer mornings, life with Mama is a tricky one. Winston Dean’s the oldest, which means he holds the record for putting up with it the longest. I was only barely rolling over when Winston turned fifteen, folded Gene Jr., Ronnie, and Bobby under his wing, and set out to find the delinquent fisherman and cast their lines alongside him. Before I was old enough to say don’t go, my big brothers had already gotten in their Dodge and gotten out.
The Hendrix Four had their bad daddy, and now they have each other. For them, Mama was a force to be survived, a storm to be weathered, and now she’s a post-office box. But ten is too young to pull off fifteen, especially without the benefit of facial hair, and anyway, I don’t have any father to run to, delinquent or not. I’m not just passing through here. Mama’s all I’ve got.
tent city
T he last weekend of July is Revival Time on the Calle, courtesy of the Lions Club or the Elks or the Kiwanis, or whoever adopts animal names and funny hats most of the year but for one weekend turns their attention to the lost sheep on the wrong side of the tracks. For three nights the Calle’s drunks and gamblers, its freaks and creeps, move their sideshow from the Truck Stop and Hobee’s to a giant tent set up in the dirt at
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