On being a trophy wife

What image do you have when you hear the words “trophy wife”? Young, tall, beautiful, usually blond woman bedecked in diamonds and gold, smiling adoringly at her usually more mature (a/k/a older and graying if not visiting his colorist regularly) husband? The wife, with all of her strengths as a status symbol for the man, is thought of pejoratively. Is that really true?

Well, friends, I have news for you, every one of you, who are married, can be and probably has been (and after reading this will definitely want to be), at one time or another, a trophy wife.

Don’t frown. Don’t protest. Just listen and then maybe readjust your thinking about this. According to Wikipedia, that great on-line source for the most important information of our age, (although this citation admits that the etymological origins may be disputed) on August 28, 1989 Fortune magazine senior editor Julie Connelly brought this term into popular in the publication’s cover story that day. In her description, the trophy wife was intelligent and highly accomplished in her own right.

Since then some have bought themselves alpha females who, like them, bring their own set of accomplishments to a marriage which then strengthens the male mate. Others have taken on trophy wives who bring them access to power or fortunes to seek such power, consider Fred Thompson or even Bill Clinton, for example.

So, as you can see, it’s not always about age or beauty. And so this weekend I decided to play the supporting role of trophy wife. My husband had the honor of being the visiting professor at the University of Oregon. He gave four different lectures, provided two of his own cases for presentation, was presented with four tough (stump the professor) cases by the residents, and then listened to 7 resident research papers as one of three judge!

So when he had to attend the reception in his honor, who do you think he needed on his arm and at his side?

You got it. He needed a power wife who could go nose to nose (for otolaryngologists) with any of them. (For urologists there are other organs that go “head to head” (oops!))

So despite the jet lag, the rather dowdy black pant suit which would not dazzle anyone but travels well when rolled up, and the minimalistic hair/make-up/jewelry look I sport especially when travelling, I think I made a pretty good trophy wife. I showed up, crossing 3000 miles of the USA, getting up at 4:45 in the morning to make my plane. (And as was said by that great (albeit somewhat demented) comedian, Woody Allen, “Eighty percent of success is showing up!”) Additionally, to my credit, and with great restraint (or perhaps just because I was tired), I didn’t insult anyone too badly, or pick any necessary or unnecessary fights.

Being a trophy wife is really not such a bad proposition. I am writing this blog enjoying the spoils of Saul’s trip to Portland. Our hosts, Karen and Steve Skoog, have graciously brought us to their beautiful cabin in the woods, in Bend, Oregon. Relaxing, sharing friendship born from and grown over 20 years of meetings and travel, and enjoying a part of the world I hadn’t yet seen. I don’t think that is so bad, do you? I think I could get used to being a trophy wife.