I didn’t give a crap, that was the bottom line. I don’t dislike royalty, or at least, not British royalty. They work their asses off for charity; they seem like good, clever people. And they’re not bad to look at.
Hmmm, maybe that’s why I want to dislike them- because they’re better, smarter, and far more attractive than me. Oh, and richer; just a tad. But no, that’s not it. Well, maybe that’s part of it; the part of me that always wants to smirk at royalty, wants to be all Sex Pistols about it, wants to keep remembering that cool one woman play I saw, “Squeezebox,” where the writer/actor started and finished the act by singing, “I’d rather be the least of them, For Him to bless and own, Than wear a royal diadem, and sit upon a throne.” It’s an old hymn (apparently). I just love that first line, “I’d rather be the least of them…” I think about that, and how I come from ghetto stock.
But I think about other things too, or I try to; like the fact that it’s not about me anymore, it’s about my girls, who are (incidentally) British. And girls. And love princesses.
And it would be petty, oh so petty, and self-centered, and lazy, to deprive these young, very girly, Brits/Yanks of their right to claim they remember a wedding they’re really too young to remember, and thus be a part of history.
And at the end of the day, I loved the wedding; I did. I love Wills and Katherine; I think they’re lovely. And it was a fun (albeit early) family morning for us, and I should thank them for that.
Thanks, K and W. I hope you stay happy and healthy and beautiful. And I’m glad you shared your big day with us.