Couple’s smiles during vows turn hard hearts into mush

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 30/04/2011 (5439 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Is there anyone over the age of six who still believes in fairy tales?

We’ve been conditioned not to indulge in that sort of fancy, haven’t we? Our world is cleaved with an enveloping cynicism. We’ve witnessed a lifetime of soaring divorce rates salted with the very public affairs of the rich and loathsome.

Life has become a giant reality show and we wouldn’t let most of the players into our homes.

The last great fairy tale wedding belonged to Charles and Diana. She was a young, lovely woman. He was a still-dashing prince. That fairy tale ended in heartbreak and tragedy. It’s now difficult to look at the wedding picture of Charles kissing his bride’s hand without curling a lip.

And yet there we were very early Friday morning, my daughter and I curled up on the couch, cups of Earl Grey tea in hand and fresh scones buttered. It was the middle of the night, a time generally reserved for the deepest sleep of the middle-aged.

She was wearing her dollar store tiara. I had a strand of plastic pearls. We were bleary-eyed, having gone to bed after watching hours of the Thursday night pre-game festivities, trying to determine who had the most inane coverage.

(TLC by a long shot, although Peter Mansbridge was getting pretty punchy by the end).

We’re not monarchists, not really. We just love a good party and, like so much of the world, are drawn to a spectacle ripe with tradition and hope.

I didn’t care what Kate wore. She’s young and slender and radiant. She could have sported the proverbial burlap sack and started a trend.

William was dashing and prince-like and still capable of a blush when he kissed his wife, bless his heart.

We were watching, as I imagine many were, out of frank curiosity, prurient interest and a measure of affection for the Royal Firm. When you’re Canadian, that family is part of the soundtrack of our lives. People talk about where they were when Diana was married and when she was buried. They share opinions of Camilla as though she worked in the next office. You might think the monarchy is a colossal waste of money but the Queen still sparks an affectionate smile. As she was driven to the ceremony, blue lap blanket in place, it was like seeing one’s own sweet granny on her way to church.

The Royal Family is more enduring than any movie star, any politician or musical sensation. The events of the past decades have humbled them, to be sure, and humanized them to a humiliating degree. Charles and Diana were followed by Andrew and Sarah, another marital disaster followed by shameful disclosures.

This wedding was cynically seen as a last gasp for the royals, a chance to insert fresh blood and win over a new batch of citizens. It certainly drew the numbers, with an estimated two billion watching around the globe and close to a million lining London’s streets.

But I have to believe there’s more to it than that. The people didn’t celebrate when Charles finally married Camilla, getting it right the second time around. They didn’t gather thousands deep to cheer the spectacle.

Friday’s royal wedding seemed fresh and convincing. It began, not in a palace, but at a university. It was a long courtship. Their odds of success are no better or worse than anyone else’s but a look at them smiling over their vows could turn hard hearts to mush.

When he struggled slightly to fit the band over her finger, I wasn’t the only woman remembering her own wedding. Those were nerves. They don’t come by pre-arrangement.

I was up early because I wanted to share the excitement with my daughter, a young woman who hasn’t entirely let go of her princess ways. It was fun and we laughed and my scone recipe may become legendary.

We care because we want to believe in something long-standing, in the continuation of tradition and the faint hope we’ll be proved wrong in our cynicism. We care because the alternative is just too gloomy.

lindor.reynolds@freepress.mb.ca