They seem like nice kids

When I was 12 years old my mother, an unrepentant anglophile, woke me up at 0-dark-thirty to watch what for years I would think of as “The Royal Wedding.” That marriage, alas, did not live up to its fairy-tale beginning. But having seen it, and having seen the pomp-and-ceremony of the English monarchy at its best, I’ve never been able to shake a grudging respect, maybe even awe, for that prince, and that princess, and all their royal kin.

On April 29, 2011 I slept in. Unlike millions (billions?) of other people, I didn’t see the ceremony firsthand. As I sit here, I still haven’t even seen any clips or highlights, although that’s sure to change.

But I’m still a little in awe. Royal-struck, to coin a term. If the Heir and his bride were standing here, I’d probably curtsy, or whatever it is a commoner is supposed to do. Is that a left-over effect from 1981 pomp-exposure?

Maybe. Or maybe it’s a simple as this: they seem like nice kids. And someday, he’s going to be King.

Argue if you will that the idea of monarchy is out-dated, and a non-productive drain on the UK’s treasury. You might even have a point. I might even agree with you.

But not until tomorrow. Because today belongs to those two nice kids.

About editor, facilitator, decider

Doesn't know much about culture, but knows when it's going to hell in a handbasket.
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