Saluting the Cop Wives

It's time to step out of the story one more time. Bear with me; I promise you we'll get there. But I just wanted to take a moment and salute all my fellow Cop Wives: You guys have jumped on my little bandwagon, and I really appreciate the following, the comments...but most of all, the camaraderie.

Being a Cop Wife is sometimes very isolating. Your friends and family don't always understand the things we go through: the worry, the juggling of our schedules, the fierce determination to protect what little time we have to spend together. It's tough out there Ladies, and I truly appreciate the support I've received thus far.

SO...I figure it's only appropriate to share a little Cop Wife Tale. It kind of fits in after yesterday's post...and either way, you may just find yourself laughing out loud.

We were at the point where Roc had joined the part-time Police in our county. To give you an idea of where we're at: we live right outside of NYC in a tony little suburb, sometimes deemed the 6th Borough. He was serving with this force, and he was enjoying it, and making friends along the way. There was a guy named Ric he was buddied up with a lot, and I became friendly with his wife, Ashley.

Ashley was a little younger than me, but a super-nice girl, who kind of reminded me of me at the same age. We hit it off, found out we had a lot in common. At the time, Ric was working as a Corrections Officer and Roc was still working in the family business. They were both serving part-time with the Force, and Ric really wanted to go into full-time police work. He had his eyes set on the biggest city in our county, but not the NYPD. He eventually got the job and still serves there today. He's a great guy and I hear he's a great cop.

In the meantime, Roc gets on with the NYPD.

And Ashley invites me to a Crap Party.

What's a Crap Party? Oh, come on, you know. You've been harassed into going to one, perhaps had your arm twisted to host one. (You get a free gift!) You've went, you've eaten the food, you've bought some crap, and then you generally go home and tell yourself you had "fun."

You didn't.

Let's be real: it's generally a bunch of women getting together to buy crap, eat pepperoni and provolone, and bitch about their husbands.

But I digress.

So I went to the Crap Party. Ashley was busy hosting and buying pocketbooks. I sidled up to a young woman balancing a paper plate on her lap and perusing the various kitchen items on display. She smiled. I smiled. Polite conversation ensued.

"I heard you talking to Ash about Rocco. Do you ever get scared being home alone at night?"

I took her in. She looked a little young to be a Cop Wife, but I welcomed the conversation, as I didn't know any other Cop Wives besides Ash. Where had Ashley been hiding her?

"Well, between the guns and the alarm system...not so much." I chuckled. "Plus I have my dog. She's a beast."

I have a twelve-pound dog whose only interest is food.

"Oh." She smiled nervously at me, trying to take me in discreetly. She wasn't very good at being discreet.

"Where does your husband work?" I was curious about her too.

"Town of Stedford."

"Oh." Now I'm forcing a half-hearted grin. Oh, for God's sake! The Town of Privilege? Is that what she was talking about?! Surely you jest! Stedford was a very exclusive town in the 6th Borough, home to celebrities and Wall Street Tycoons. I don't think there was one house in the whole town that sold for under five million dollars. How scared could she be? What's the worst thing that could happen? A person getting pulled over could threaten with the "Do You Know Who I AM " speech...and then wield a mighty pen and offer out autographs as currency.

MY husband was assigned to run around the South Bronx. If you know anything about the South Bronx, you know it's a crime-ridden, fallen-down neighborhood. And then you should assume it's even worse than what you've imagined.

But she wasn't through.

"I just get nervous with him being out all night, you know...I hate being alone, and...sometimes he works from midnight until eight in the morning...and I worry about him being out there, especially in a really bad storm."

Storms? I mean, I guess I worry about storms, but I certainly worry more about the guy with the gun.

I took a deep breath and decided to try and be nice.

"I hear ya." I nodded my head. "Well, how long has he been on the force?" I figured I'd offer a few words of encouragement to this obvious newbie.

"Force? Oh, no...my husband is Town of Stedford road crew. He drives the snow plow." She said this as if I should congratulate her.

HE DRIVES THE SNOW PLOW?!?!??!?!!

Are you serious?! Here I thought I was kvetching with another Cop Wife, and she's worried about her husband being out all night in a SNOW PLOW?! I daresay if he's on the road he's the safest guy out there! He's the guy with the...PLOW, for God's Sake.

It took every ounce of decorum in my body to polite excuse myself from this inane conversation and move along. What I really wanted to do was upend the buffet table all over this dumb broad and then buy some serious Crap. I wanted to scream at her: "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Do you have any idea what I go through on a daily basis? Do you understand that I don't have enough time to worry about being home alone at night because I am worried about my husband coming home at all?

She didn't get it. I bought a spatula that's about as big as my pinkie finger. And I've avoided Crap Parties ever since.