I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
July 20, 2006
>Do you have a king and queen in your neighborhood? A couple that tries to rule over everything, whether it’s the homeowners’ association meetings, the annual block party, or the brush pile in your back yard?
I wrote about these middle class monarchs in this week’s Nashville Scene. It turns out I know a dirty little secret about a local Queen that could knock the crown right off her head if she doesn’t play her cards right. Read the full column below…
Middle Class Monarchy
So I’m standing in the frozen foods aisle, asking myself, Should I get Hot Pockets or Lean Pockets? Or what about Croissant Pockets? Wait a second. Sub Pockets? How did I not know about these?, when suddenly, I’m startled out of my reverie by the sound of horns and the whoosh of a red carpet unrolling down the aisle.
“Presenting the Queen of Riverlake Pond Subdivision,” a voice behind me proclaims as I whirl around in confusion.
Stepping grandly down the carpet between two trumpeting men in tights is Margie Jamison. I sigh loudly and drop all of the Hot Pockets in my cart as the other shoppers around me sink into curtsies and deep bows.
“Hi, Margie,” I say tiredly as she sweeps past me in a leopard-print pantsuit. Her Brighton bag bumps me in response. “How’s little Amelia Jane?”
“Loving private school,” she replies haughtily without so much as a glance in my direction on her way to the frozen pizzas.
“All hail Queen Margie!” a mom beside me squawks nervously. I give her a withering look. “Well, she is the best Bunco player in West Nashville,” she whispers.
I shake my head and wheel my cart around, trying to maneuver over the carpet. “Damned suburban royalty,” I mutter to myself.
Whoever says we live in a democracy doesn’t know much about American subdivisions. Along with the lawn nazis, the stay-at-home mommies and the power walkers, there is almost always a royal couple who, by divine right of social standing and square footage, make it their business to keep the rest of the homeowners in line. Margie and Steve Jamison are no different from scores of royal families strewn across the suburbs of Middle Tennessee.
As a rule, the pedigrees of suburban royalty hold more Hatfields and McCoys than Windsors and Wessexes, but they cover up their lack of breeding with a long list of ‘achievements.’
“Steve is Second Vice President of Robuck Construction and a member of the Titans Club,” Margie recited to me once back in the days when she still deemed it safe to be seen talking to my kind. “He’s gotten three major raises in three years.”
“Hmm,” I replied vaguely.
“Amelia Jane was first runner up to Miss Pretty, Pretty Princess this year,” she continued. “And her dance team took first place in the Li’l Peppy Jazz Fingers competition in Birmingham. Hunterson is on the all-star t-ball team and he’s quarterback for the Mini Cougars.” She paused, eyes glinting like a newly polished shotgun. “What are your girls doing?”
“They uh,” I paused. What the hell. “Well, our oldest is working on a vaccination that would prevent the transmission of bird flu. She just had a major breakthrough last week, in fact. A bunch of Vanderbilt researchers have like, totally taken over our basement. You wouldn’t believe how many peanut butter sandwiches I’ve had to make.”
Margie’s lip-lined smile wavered.
“Our 11-year-old will try again next month to circle the globe on a bicycle hanging from a bunch of mylar balloons. You might remember she made it all the way to Nepal last time before the wind currents got the best of her. And our baby is collaborating with Bono on a song for…”
But Margie had turned on her Ferragamo heels and vanished back into the crowd of PTA members.
Not long after our conversation, Steve became president of the Riverlake Pond Homeowner’s Association. Immediately, he launched a successful campaign to outlaw longhaired cats (He was, after all, allergic). Soon afterward, he got another major raise at Robuck. By the time the private school stickers were affixed to the back of the family Escalade, the Jamisons’ once-tenuous rule over Riverlake Pond was cemented.
Although I still run into Margie and her royal entourage a few times a month, my stepdaughters’ public school status has wiped our entire family off the Jamisons’ List of Peons to Acknowledge in Public Places. But I’ve contented myself with the knowledge that Margie’s sovereignty is hanging by a designer thread. Because soon after Amelia Jane left my stepdaughters’ school, I overheard a very interesting conversation during one of their sleepovers.
“Remember when we were all at Amelia Jane’s house?” one of the girls laughed, “And Amelia Jane took us to her parents’ bedroom while they were gone and showed us that pink pickle-shaped thing in her mom’s nightstand? And she dared us to touch it, but no one would?!” The girls erupted in fits of giggles as around the corner, I rubbed my hands in grim delight. This information was worth its weight in homeowner association fees.
Although it’s been tempting, I’ve never mentioned my kingdom- crumbling information to Margie. I’ve even changed some of the details of this story to keep her identity anonymous. But if you think you see a little bit of yourself in here, then you might want to be a little nicer to the little people. Or at least put a lock on your nightstand.
Because you never know when you might find yourself in a royal mess.
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>Oooh, the idea of outing Margie fills me with vicarious delight!You just made my evening…
>You mean she just has one??? Dang. I’m an over-achiever. bwah ha haIf we have a neighborhood association, I’m not aware of it. If we did, I think we’d all be assigned the “buddy system”…which young resident would watch out for which old resident and be prepared to call 911 in case of emergency. There are many, many retirees in my neighborhood.
>It’s not that she has one. Is that all the neighborhood kids KNOW about it. Oh, the mortification!
>Wow. I never thought of it. We have power walkers, stay at home mommies, working mommies, a few ‘about to be mommies’ (those are funny, they walk around the neighborhood with blissful expressions on their face, completely oblivious to the horror of 3 a.m. feedings….) but the ones that get me… the dog loving activists… so many dogs… small dogs, big dogs, woofie dogs… No danger of me ever getting to know any of them, I don’t own a dog! And my favorite, the stay at home daddies, those make my husband seethe with envy.OOOH but we do have one mean mom who dared suggest I was…was…. a… a…..renter…. the horrors!(nothing against those that rent, most of us did at one point, it was the assumption I was clearly not of good enough ‘financial stock’ to actually own a home… gah.
>This is why I keep the trunk in my room LOCKED. Nut is too little but my siblings seem to like to snoop when babysitting. LOLAnd again, there is only one that the kids found… tee hee
>Oooh…cackle, cackle. You’ve got something good here. Hehehehe!We have royalty in our ‘burbs too. My friends and I like to call them “the league” as in Jr. League wanna be’s. They were all over the neighborhood in the first few years that we lived here, but now they’ve died back some. Their kids are teenagers now and maybe they’re too busy keeping them out of trouble. We have a few years until they are empty nesters and, you KNOW they’ll be back in full force then. GAH!
>Damn I hope Margie reads that… Hoo-ha! Karma’s a bitch.
>The mortification indeed! I hope she reads it. I am loving your column by the way!
>Ohhh that’s the best!!!LBC
>We have our nosey neighbor down the street who knows EVERYthing that happens here. And it is all because they walk the neighborhood!
>THAT was fantastic! Sounds like Margie could soon get her come uppance
>We ALL know a Margie, dont we?! And I am sooo jealous that hers is pink!!!!
>Best one yet.This makes me want to live on a farm, far away from these people.
>Hahahaha! Now all the neighbors will be wondering who Margie is!Good one!!
>My entire neighborhood is far too shiftless to have a monarchy.We do, however, have several fascist dames who keep yelling at us to keep our trashcans in the garage, instead of alongside the house behind a privet hedge.
>damn girl. You do know how to put it all together, don’t you?! LOVE it!
>Well, with that little pink thingy, Margie doesn’t have to worry about stroking Steve’s ego!Bwahaha-Tee-Hee-Ha-Ha!Was that over the top?
>LMFAO that was awesome!
>I was chuckling until this abomination of a line:As a rule, the pedigrees of suburban royalty hold more Hatfields and McCoys than Windsors and Wessexes, but they cover up their lack of breeding with a long list of “achievements.”*kicks your toe* Lack of breeding? Achievements in quotes? Why I oughta….Oh well. You’re right. 😉
>I need to have your column sent straight to my email! So, so, so very funny!!
>OH how SWEET it is…You gave me a wicked chuckle!
>Love it!
>That my darlin’ girl was a GREATTTTTTT story. I hope Margie read it and is squirming in her too-tight-leopord suit and Lee press on nails. 🙂
>She’s right out a of a movie. pickle lol lol
>Lindsay! LOVED IT! You totally rocked that story.
>Great article, Lindsay!! We don’t have HOA’s here, but we do have a few King and Queens that I’ve bitched about on my blog a couple of times. One of my daughters had to go to a party there last week, and even though she made sure she put me in my place by pretending not to know my daughter’s name (seriously – it was so transparent!) – I could see some major unhappiness seeping out of the pores of both her and her husband when I went to pick up my daughter. Trouble in paradise? I wonder! These are also the kinds of people who sell things at a yard sale for pretty much the same price at the store. $20 for a pair of Abercrombie kids jeans? WTF?