Mr. Uxory

People ask all the time what’s in a name, well I can tell you.

Last week, first thing I in morning, my phone’s ringing and then I can hear my seven year old girl: “Telephone call for Kowalski-Smith!” Man but she loves being loud in formal ways. But the thing is I’m pretty tired cause I had a big day the day before, not quite dead-to-the-world tired or anything like that – my mind’s just fine. Really I’m just sort of body tired, so I lie there telling myself it’s just gonna be some sorta doctor appointment thing I can just ignore – that is until I hear: “Better get that Dear, it’s probably dispatch wanting you to work tonight and we could use all the money you can get for this weekend!” And that, that’s my wife.

She mostly calls me ‘Dear’, so you might say that’s my real name, but it’s not the name I want to tell you about. Actually my real name used to be just ‘Smith’ – I know, I know, boring right? But don’t worry, I don’t take offense, I really was kind of boring ’til I met my wife. But she told me long before we got married she didn’t want to change her name. No, she didn’t have a special career or an especially feminist philosophy or anything like that, she just really felt her name was part of who she was and that marriage would be a pretty poor thing if she had to become someone else to do it. After a while I figured she had a point so I suggested we could do the new hyphen thing as a compromise, but she didn’t think a guy’s guy like me would really do it. So I proved her wrong – I even put Kowalski first to show how much I love her and how much she means to me. And so now Kowalski-Smith is married to Kowalski and both me and my name get to be exciting.

Funny, eh? Yeah, I know. Buuuut it’s not Kowalski or Smith I want to tell you about either, though I’ll tell you, the guys at work love calling me by my last name as if it’s a big deal. But I say let’s face it, last names are really for everyone else to know you by. And you know it might be great for everyone else out there to know I love my wife, but I really don’t think it matters to them a single bit one way or the other.

Anyway, now I get the phone and she’s right of course, it is dispatch, and I realize I have no idea what her plans for the weekend are, and I can’t even remember if she just never told me or worse if she told me and I just plain forgot, which is something I might’ve done mind you ’cause like I said I’m pretty tired. The thing is I drive a cab, just part time for the extra cash ’cause my wife’s really the breadwinner and I’m more like Mr. Mom.

Mr. Mom, yeah I know, more names right? Aaannd the story of how I got here and how she got there is an interesting story, but it just isn’t the story of what’s in a name. Actually I don’t think ‘Breadwinner’ and ‘Mom’ are names, they’re are more like titles, things that come before your name, or after your name if you’re lucky enough to be born that way, though I sure wasn’t. I’ve spent four years of part time nights behind a wheel just so I could get promoted to three more years of part time mornings or afternoons behind a dispatch desk – and still pick up some evenings behind the wheel. Which is actually my point, last week they were busy and I’d already done days and nights two days running. I was already tired and behind on the house chores and stuff I’d already put off the past two days – and I’d still had my regular afternoon desk shift.

So I’m standing there with the phone in my hand, knowing I could just say I’m just too tired to do this today. And I really could too and I knew my wife would understand because though she wants the money for something, she doesn’t want it if I’m dead. But I start thinking about how happy whatever it is she’s got up her sleeve is going to make her. You know, there are people who really enjoy living life, and she’s one of them. And I love her for it. And love it about her. So of course there’s really no contest. I take the shift, I hang up.

And then my wife tells me she’s going to be home late and miss me because there’s some important potential client in town but that on the upside it means I wouldn’t have to worry about dinner at all because girl one is going to scouts and girl two’s having dinner at a friend’s house. So I’m glad about dinner and I don’t think much more about it.

It’s only later when I get this fare that reminds me how long life has been this way. You get all types in a taxi and this was the talkative, inquisitive type, and they’re not so bad, the worst is the talkative self involved type. But this guy wants to know why I stick with such a crappy job. And I could tell him it’s not really so bad ’cause I like driving and I like people, but I know the real reason why it’s never been so bad for me too. So I tell him about that moment I had on the phone this morning when I realized that because I love her more than anything in the world that yeah, I’ll pick up an extra crappy shift at a crappy job, and that that’s the very least thing I’ll do.

And then he has the guts to ask me if I love her more than the kids, but I get him square on that because pointed out parenting is what Old Detroit Automakers used to call ‘Planned Obsolescence’, if you work hard and do a good job you get rewarded by not being a parent anymore. Not that it’s anything less than ‘the toughest job you’ll ever love’ – but your gig’s over when they fly the coop, and they will fly the coop cause that’s the whole point. But for me loving my wife is more like what they call a ‘vocation’, when the job’s never quit cause the job’s the point of you, and you know it still will be after the kid’s are gone. So no, I don’t love her more or less than the kids, just different.

Anyway, when I get home late that night she surprises me ’cause she’s still up, usually she’s in bed already. And she’s got this huge Cheshire Cat smile on her face the one she gets when she’s really happy about something, so I ask her what’s up. And she tells me this story about how her important client had the most interesting taxi ride downtown — and I say no freaking way. She says yes, and the guy was so impressed that he took note of my name and then he goes on to use me as an example of the kind of service he wanted from the firm saying, “this guy’s name was ‘Kowalski-smith’ but I’m going to call him Mr. Uxory’ ” because apparently uxory is the name you get when you love your wife enough that you’re willing to let her call the shots so she’s happy and you’re willing to do whatever you need to in order to help make her happy.

So when my wife pointed out that this driver he had was actually her husband, the client totally commits to the deal on the spot and demands she head the project. And then on top of this, after the meeting, because of how thrilled this new client is they finally give her the promotion she should’ve had last year but that because of the economy we finally just gave up believing she’d ever get.

So now my wife says to me, “Now, Mr. Uxory, you can quit your crappy job, in fact I want you to.” And at first I’m like hey, this is great – but then I get to wondering what I’m going to do with all the free time. And she must’ve seen the look on my face and says, “But what?” So I tell her what and then she gets that smile back on and says, “Mr. Uxory, you can do anything you want, but as your full time partner, lover, wife and now employer, you’d better just run it by me first.”

And that, my friends, that is what’s in a name.