Deadly Furniture

This morning, my cat woke me up at seven o’clock in the morning. As I stared at him with more than a little disdain, my sleep-starved mind reminded me that the British were having a Royal Wedding today. Because my romantic and idealist side is hidden but not gone, I didn’t roll over and go back to sleep but instead picked up my cat and turned on the television in time to see William and Catherine walk out of the back chapel of Westminster Abbey. And then, because I am my mother’s daughter, I sat through the entire carriage ride back, the endless Today Show coverage of people pretending to say important things, the “Countdown to the Kiss(es)“ and, this one being the more embarrassing one, I even sat through the discussion with Phillipa Gregory (a historical fiction writer whose bibliography includes only horrible retellings of the lives of early English queens) about how the Duchess of Cambridge’s life would now change (I mean--Phillipa Gregory people. Really. Were Oxford and Cambridge out of historians?)

But I watched it all. And then, at two o’clock pm, I turned on the rerun and watched the entire wedding from its beginning. Who cares that I’d seen all the really relevant points in flashback montages? I watched as men and their hat dates all filed into Westminster, as everyone strained for a first look at Catherine’s dress, and I will gladly admit my eyes got a little misty as everyone sang “Jerusalem.” This is all very strange, as is the fact that millions of other Americans did the exact same thing as I did. She isn’t my princess and he’ll never be my king. America left all the pageantry and monarchy behind when a bunch of old white guys got together, sang some songs, and signed a document in 1776. But, there was something simple and delightful about watching two people, with two billion eyes on them, make some big and somewhat scary promises.

Everyone is going on and on about how this is a sign of hope, a celebration of the potential of the next years, a way for the Church of England to attract some people back into the fold, or a chance for the monarchy to make amends to its people for its past mistakes. A tall order for two young people who just want to get married. And, for all the pageantry, for all the songs, for all the tears, I am less than sure that the wedding accomplished any of these things completely and I doubt that the new princess or her husband set out with those goals in mind. I think they just wanted to get married. However, what the wedding did do was, for two hours, unite two billion people around an event that wasn’t a war, a riot, or a natural disaster. Instead, it was an act of sweet love and a moment of true happiness. As a global community, we haven’t gotten one of those lately. I’d kinda forgotten what they looked like. Who knew happiness came with so many hats?