What's My Name?

By the subject, some may think this essay is about Cassius Marcellus Clay changing his name to Mohammad Ali. It’s not.

But there is a connection to the Ali story because I too changed my name. Well, not formally but the nickname that I use.

My Dad’s name was Edwin Joseph and I was named after him. I assume that to avoid confusion, my parents decided to call me by a variation of my middle name so I was known as Joey. Growing-up, when I’d meet people for the first time, I’d introduce my self as Joey.

So how did I become known as Joe? This transformation happened after Pat and I were married while on the road moving from St Louis, MO (her) and Warner Robins, GA (me) to Redondo Beach, CA. Along the way, I said: Pat, we are going to have a new life, new jobs and new residence -- so I’d rather have a new name and be known to the folks we meet as Joe instead of Joey.

Okay, she said, your name is Joe!

Subsequently, my siblings and many relatives plus all the new folks I met called me Joe.

This background is necessary to put into prospective a conversation with the DW two weeks ago.

It was lawn mowing day and after several hours of hard yard work, I sat on the patio swing to take a break and drink an iced tea.  The SD joined me.

Joe!

What, W?

After you finish the lawn, I think that we should grill dinner outside and not heat up the kitchen on such a hot day.

Pat, what does “we” mean?

You and me, babe!

Ka-rist, W! You sure define “we” differently than I do. When you say "we" it means J-O-E and I still have more yard work to do.

Joe, you can finish the yard tomorrow. Besides, I just bought Salmon -- the way you bake it is delicious. Look for it in the fridge. I’ll help you, by going to Ace Hardware and get the propane tank refilled.

Off to Ace she goes.

OH-MAN, another “honey-do” for me. At this point I switched from Ice Tea to wine to ease my mental pain.

While the SD was gone, I prepared the Salmon. After she returned I grilled it.

Later -- having dinner outside: this is very good, Joe. Thanks, W - you made it possible, Bay-beee.

As we’re eating, and after about 4 glasses of wine. W, remember: one time after taking you to the airport I returned to my apartment to find that you had left a lipstick note on my bathroom mirror? Yeah, Joe, I remember it all like it was yesterday. Those were great times.

Back then you and everyone else called me Joey. However, on our move to Redondo Beach, I said from then on I wanted to be called Joe.

Yes, I recall all that. What’s your point?

W, before then, my hair was dark, I was handsome, had swagger, drove a Vette, and my IQ was 127. But now, since being called Joe, my hair turned grey, I’m ugly as sin, became a wimp, drive a Van and my IQ is 27.

Taking this in -- Devil Woman is staring at me with a deep serious look.

Patricia, I believe that changing my name to Joe caused this bad MoJo. I threw-out the persona of my formative years and in doing so impacted who I truly am. To change this, I’m going back to the essence that defined me -- back to being Joey.

Hummmmmmmmmmmm, I see.

Long silent pregnant pause.

Dwal’n.

Yes?

What’s my name?

Your name is Joey!

SWEETTTTTTTTTTT, thank-ya, Dawl’n! I feel better already.

Joey, I feel better too because it'll be good to again hear you calling me nice names instead of SD, DW and other such names that Joe uses.

Say Wut?! You expect me to sweet-talk you like I did back in the day? Pat, you tricked me!

I didn't, Joey - it was Joe that tricked you!

GAWDDDDDDDDD!!

Short silent pause.

Patricia, my lovely wife!

Yes, Joey?

Baby-Doll: with the Bs having left the nest, you and I now retired; we have a new life, so I'm going to -------