Wedding Observations

Unless you have been in the next galaxy over for the past few weeks, you will know that this morning at O’Dark Thirty US time, Katherine Elizabeth Middleton wed Prince William With Four Middle Names.

I am a bit of an Anglophile but my passion is more for the Britain of the past…say… anything pre 20th century, so this really was nothing to me and in a way rather offensive since the royal family did not pay for the bulk of this extravaganza, the English tax payer did, taxpayers who can ill afford such expenditures right now. But hey, who am I to snub a bazillion years of tradition?

I don’t know much, if anything, about either of these people, Kate or William, so this was all very new and foreign to me.

During Kate’s car ride to Westminster Abby She looked confident and mature, and of course a little scared. We get the first glimpse of her dress as she is escorted from the car. It is simple, elegant and dignified, a far cry from the frothy mess worn by Diana decades earlier. And yes, Diana must be mentioned, for her presence was acutely felt throughout, from the media comparisons to the striking likeness in both face and expression of her son, to a gentle spiritual feeling that she was there for her boy this day. Of course Prince Charles attended with the controversial Camilla at his side.

The Queen arrived dressed in shocking yellow head to toe, with her ever present dignity in tow, the regal walk in place, belying her advanced age (she is 85 but her mother was over 100 when she died so Charles may have quite a wait before ascending to the throne).

The ceremony was Anglican, very formal and somber. Kate and Harry, where their input was allowed, had made it more personal, with less formal wedding party attire and a prayer written by the both of them. This bodes well for England I think, which has had so many scandals and high disapproval ratings since Diana and Charles were married (thanks to Kate and William, the monarchy disapproval rating is now down to 11% among Brits). Conspicuously missing from the ceremony were the placing of a ring on William’s finger, and “the kiss”. The talking heads quickly informed us that wearing a ring is a choice for the man more over there than it is here, and the kiss comes on the balcony later, there is no kiss in the Anglican ceremony.

The wedding ceremony and everything accompanying it went very smoothly. William looked relaxed and Kate looked nervous but only a little. One comes away with the feeling she will be able to handle this position, grandmother-in-law from hell and all.

But what surprised me was how personal the whole thing felt. I don’t think you could have a more serious, ceremonial, important event happen in England, an event for the people, for the whole world in this age of instant media. Yet these two somehow made the ceremony theirs alone. William beamed when Kate said her vows and she was equally moved when he said his to her. Several times William, head down, eyes sparkling, suppressed a grin and you could see his mother in him in those moments. They stole glances and their eyes communicated inside jokes several times, yet all well within the royal countenance. At one point the priest (what are they called in the Anglican church?) said to them “you have both made your decisions today to marry “and they both looked at each other like they had a huge secret and I got the distinct feeling there might be a whoopee cushion in Elizabeth’s future. It was almost like they were two public figures who went through this wedding in their own little bubble.

The press reported that they will have their own wedding at a later time, with different clothing, more intimate friends, cake cutting and boogie on down dancing. They are going to have their own wedding, which again seems to reflect their relationship. They both obviously understand and are willing to meet their royal obligations, but they do seem determined to have their own lives, their own marriage and stay true to themselves and what they are building between them.

You just cannot help but compare this day to the day William’s parents married, that “fairytale” day that turned out to be a nightmare for everyone in the end. That day was more formal. Diana looked like a shy, insecure child who was happy as hell yet scared to death. And Charles looked like he was marching down the aisle to his death (which he was in a way, marrying a girl while deeply in love with another woman, Camilla) and giving no emotional support to the girl at his side that day. It reeked of an arranged wedding, of a girl foisted into a life she was much too young to handle, given away in a wedding cake of a dress to a man who didn’t love her, to a family who saw her as a Royal only, to a world where her subjects loved her more than her new family did.

Today was different. Today was not a fairytale, it was a wedding, between two people who supported each other even through the ceremony. Today made me and probably a lot of other women realize that the fairytale is not what we want, not really. What we want is what we saw today. Love, support and hope.

I am sure William had his mother on his mind today, and I hope he felt her smiling down on him, mother and son sharing the familiar shy smile.

Brandy, You're A Fine Girl

Seven years ago Hilda and I rescued the cutest beagle puppy we had ever seen from an irresponsible breeder who obviously had mistreated her. She was a gift from me to Tommy. Every man needs a dog.

She was very sick and it quickly became obvious to Tom and me that she had been abused, even at that young age. I had taken Hilda with me to help make sure I chose a healthy dog since I am the kind that will melt and bring home the sickest, saddest one of the bunch. Little did I know she was as tender-hearted as I was and so we took her home, the last puppy, but the sickest and saddest nonetheless.

Brandy never was your typical beagle. Yes she was a food hound, and yes, she had those eyes that made you want to give her the world, but she was afraid of guns and storms and hated the car and most anything else most beagles usually love. But we didn’t care. After she outgrew her chewing stage (when she ate a sofa, a chair and a wall) she became part of the family.

Tom and I have been separated for 4 months now and I have only seen brandy a couple of times during those months away. It always astounded me how she seemed to know who I was, even after all that time had passed, and that she seemed to forgive me for leaving her, only wanting to love me and show me how happy she was that I was “home”. I never could say goodbye to her properly when I left again, I could not stand to see her look at me with those questioning eyes, wondering when I would be home again and me not knowing if I ever would.

Brandy started having health problems a couple of months ago and, skipping all the medical stuff, had to be put down today, the cancer having taken over her emaciated shivering body.

She was very sick and in a lot of pain. She could not eat and so it was the only real choice. Tom and Hilda where with her at the vet and me? Well in Typical Diana form, I was not there when someone needed me.

It’s funny how religious we become in times of crisis. No atheists in foxholes, right? I am trying to take comfort thinking that she is with other dogs in a better place, eating nothing but chicken and chasing squirrels…two of her favorite things to do. Oh, and sneaking up on the sofa when she thinks no one is looking.

Brandy, we loved you. I hope you know that. We may have not been the best owners you could have had, but we loved you and cared for you the best we could and I hope wherever you are, you know that. I also hope you know that if it were at all possible I would have been there for you. As for me, I am going to remember you not as I last saw you, but how you were when you were happiest; half way up that tree at our house at the lake, trying once again to catch that darn squirrel.