by Lorin Michel Friday, December 1, 2017 6:14 PM

Most days, I awaken feeling that we’re royally screwed as a country. By the time, I go to bed, nothing has happened to change that feeling other than to sometimes intensify it. It’s an awful way to live but I know there are a lot of us that do. We wake up and immediately check the news feed to see what awful thing has happened while we had the audacity to try to sleep. We rage on Twitter (though not me – I don’t have a twitter account). We rant on Facebook. We exchange furious emails. More than screwed, we are feeling powerless, frightened, and desperate for something, anything that even sounds happy and good. 

Enter the Royals. That’s something I never thought I’d type or even say. I am not a Royals watcher. I don’t care much about the queen. I was not one of those people who got up in the middle of the night to watch when Diana and Charles got married. We did watch Diana’s funeral. That just seemed terribly tragic, given her age and how she died. It affected both Kevin and I much more than either of us expected. Maybe it was because she was my age and her companion was Kevin’s. 

Over the years, I would see the occasional headline about the young princes. I never read the stories. When William got married a few years ago, I saw the photos online. Everybody looked pretty. I was surprised at how much William looked like his mother, except for the hair. 

I have been mildly amused by some of Harry’s antics; some not so much. I liked his red hair. 

It was interesting then, to find myself actually following this week’s announcement of the young prince’s engagement. Yes, we have watched Suits on occasion; yes, we knew who Meghan Markle was, though I wouldn’t call us fans. But I have to admit to finding a perverse kind of pleasure in one of Diana’s sons marrying an American, and a bi-racial one from Los Angeles at that. It seems so modern. And they seem so much more interesting that William and Kate, who are attractive but utterly uninteresting with their 2.5 kids and overwhelming sense of duty. I admire that. I like that they’ve done things differently than the Royals of the past but I’ve never thought about them one way or another. 

But the engagement of Harry and Meghan makes me smile. I’ve found myself looking at photos and watching the video of their engagement. I even read a story or two. It makes me feel hopeful, somehow. Maybe it’s because I’ve always had that soft spot for Harry. He has always seemed less uptight, less formal. I love that he’s marrying a woman who’s older than he is, a divorcee, an actress. I love that they’re going to live in Nottingham Cottage, a two-bedroom house in Kensington Palace, where his mother lived. And I love that the Royals all seem genuinely happy about it all.

I’m under no delusion that if he was first in line for the throne, there would be hell to pay. But he’s not, so he’s free.

It makes me happy. Evidently I’m not the only one. Today, I was reading Andrew Sullivan’s weekly column in New York Magazine. He’s British, also married to an American, and has now become an American citizen, just as Meghan Markle will become a British citizen. After his usual tirade and Trump-disgusted prose, he wrote this about Harry: “…the looming marriage of Prince Harry to a biracial divorced American is actually important… In an unglued world, it is a form of fixative. Its complete reinvention through simple human lives actually deepens national stability and cohesion. In the era of Trump, it appears like a kind of constitutional miracle.”


Painting by DJ Rogers



live out loud

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