My distant cousin done got himself
hitched on my birthday.
(Yeah, he did).
You may know the fella. Sometimes he
calls himself Harry Wales. Sometimes Harry Windsor. Sometimes Harry
Mountbatten-Windsor. Sometimes simply Prince Harry. And he’s got enough names
which precede his surname, (whatever it happens to be) to share them with a few
other folks; and have plenty left over.
According to the news media Harry and
Meghan, his new bride, “went on the cheap.” They only managed to soak the
British public for about 50 million bucks. (William and Kate took them for a
110 million dollar ride).
I’m happy to report that in spite of
the severe cutback in expenditures the wedding didn’t suffer for finery and
formalities. No, not one whit. This shindig was ‘put on’ at St. George’s
Chapel, Windsor Castle, Windsor, England. It’s a grand old place.
To be sure they invited the cream of
the crop. Oprah was there. And so was George Clooney, David Beckham, and Serena
Williams. Not to mention Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip and their
respectable (and the lack thereof) brood of princes and princesses.
Speaking of guests, there hasn’t been
so much color in the place since they installed the stained glass windows. Of
course, Meghan Markle is bi-racial and her mother added a dose of nobility to
the special guest loft. And who will ever forget the black choir and cellist?
But the stand out of the day was a
fella by the name of The Most Reverend Michael Curry; an African-American, and
the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in the United States.
Pt. 2
In a joint press interview featuring
Rev. Curry, and the Arch Bishop of Canterbury, Curry provided a bit of
spontaneous flavor; which gives some evidence of the wit and demeanor of the
man.
“Speaking of the church of which I am
a bishop, the Church of England is our Mother Church. I’m over here now, and I
know well enough not to misbehave in mama’s house.”
(Which I can tell you elicited a
hearty laugh all around).
In spite of the good preacher’s
assurances, you couldn’t have proven it by all of those high and mighty
personages at my cousin’s wedding. He simply didn’t operate like the priests
who had graced the pulpit at St. George’s in times gone by.
Rev. Curry spoke without notes. He was
passionate. He knew his topic inside out. He displayed emotion. He delivered
the undiluted Gospel message.
Prince Charles’ girlfriend, (I mean
wife) must have worn that humongous hat (which the Facebookers are laughing
about) to hide her indignation with the whole sorry mess. And the Queen?
Throughout Reverend Curry’s homily her shoulders were moving up and down like a
kangaroo on a pogo stick. And I saw a photo of the sweet old thing staring
Meghan down like she was a creature from the dark lagoon; with the emphasis on ‘dark.’
It hasn’t been that long ago since
Queen Elizabeth and her cohorts ostracized her Uncle Edward when he stepped
down from the throne and married the American divorcee Wallis Simpson. He
remained a persona non-grata for the remainder of his life.
Odd, when the thing hit a wee bit closer
to home, and Prince Charles got mixed up with the homely divorcee Camilla, and
put away my beautiful cousin Princess Diana, the Queen made ‘special allowances.’
Looks like she’s making special
allowances again; against her better judgement. Meghan Markle is not only an
American, and a divorcee, but the offspring of a white man and black woman.
I can tell you, there was a wee bit of
discomfort, some assorted half smiles, and, yes, even a few snickers at my cousin’s
wedding.
And glory be, there was plenty of
color. (And I, for one, am just fine with it).
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 82. Copyright pending
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