MISBEHAVIN' IN MAMA'S HOUSE a.k.a. Prince Harry Gets Married

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. Copyright pending