A Simile and Some Slippers

What our neighbors downstairs wrote (in an e-mail complaining about our noise, entitled, "noise."):

"We do believe that you all may be unaware of how much noise you are making. Since you all don't have carpet, we hear everything! It's especially frustrating when we are trying to sleep and are awakened by furniture being moved across the floors or loud walking..."

What we up here heard (in the e-mail complaining that we live and breathe, entitled, "noise.")

"Um, hello, excuse me-- you walk like elephants."

(thus, these were a must when Katie found the last pair at Target in the dollar section)

Enchanted

I'll admit it, I was into the whole Windsor wedding thing.

I didn't tweet with "royal wedding" hashtags, though, because that felt like a bit much.

I'd invited Claire to get up early and watch with me after a "sleep"over in the living room months ago, but didn't really think she was into the whole plan. Imagine my surprise and delight when she protested my retiring to the bedroom last night. "Where are you going?! Aren't we watching the wedding?"

No need to ask me twice. After very little sleep, I awoke to a really annoying commentary at 5:30 a.m.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation (I don't think it was), but man the folks at TLC were unbearable. So we flipped it on over to BBC, which had a much more natural ring to it.

Speaking of rings... jealous.

(but not really because what if you were actually responsible for Princess Diana's ring?)

I've heard a lot of opinions about the wedding-- from "why do people even care about this" to "OMG WEDDING OF THE CENTURY." I don't really have a defense that will satisfy naysayers and I am with them on the whole "this doesn't actually affect your day to day living" thing. But it's just one of those things where I like that I'll always have the memory of waking up, already hunkered in my position on the couch to watch the future King and Queen of England get married.

If that makes me a sissy, I'm a sissy. I mean, we already knew I was a sucker for all things historical. And in 50 years when a headline spouts off their names, I'll have the image of him helping her into the carriage to go along with it.

I loved their scripture passage choice and that, even if 2 billion people tuned in for the most superficial, shallow, sissy reasons, 2 billion people also heard these words:

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

-Romans 12 1-2; 9-18

I especially like the part about the haughty and the lowly. Will they live it out? I'm not sure. But it sure does remind me of her:

I really wanted to watch this morning mostly because I remember watching Diana's funeral as an enchanted, just-turned-8 year old; eyes glued to screen and the majesty of Westminster Abbey.

I remember the card written to "mummy" that I giggled about, even as I-- maybe for the first serious time-- thought about what my life would be like without my mom.

The minute of silence as my small heart tried to grasp the gravity of the grief of a nation.

The sea of flowers and mourners and "Candle in the Wind."

I remember Luke getting mad because Mother Teresa didn't get near as much recognition; calling Diana's funeral a media scam.

He was the first to beg the question, "why do they even care about this? This doesn't actually affect their day to day living." I'm familiar with the cynicism. And if that's your cup of tea, have at it.

As Claire and I sipped on ours this morning, sitting in newly-risen sunlight, waiting to view the royal kiss, I continued to try and put my finger on why I cared about the wedding.

Something clicked in my head when Diana died that I'm convinced began my road to history major-ship. I can't say why people cared so much about her death. But it profoundly impacted me that they did care. So I began a quest to read every magazine and book, watch every broadcast and special about Princess Diana. Yes, she was a princess and that was awesome. Belle and Ariel never died so how could this one? There was a little growing up in that regard.

But I was most enchanted by the pictures of her in minefields, at hospitals and hanging with her boys.

I loved her pearls and crowns and that big sapphire ring, but her smile is what left an impression. And as enthralled as I was by the pretty pictures and stories, my interest only grew all the more when I really began reading the more complicated information on the "people's princess."

I learned that she looked like she had everything but gave an interview in tears near the end of her life. To an eight year old this communicated that as enchanting as is the ceremony, it can be equally as isolating. Maybe celebration isn't worth seeking.

I learned she still managed to do some great things with the spotlight and stood up for herself gracefully.

I learned you get to choose your attitude, and she chose consideration and compassion by most accounts.

I learned that she was imperfect, but beloved. That when people maybe shouldn't have cared about her (because rationally it doesn't make sense to care about someone you'll never meet), they did. Perhaps because she did that for people first. When she maybe didn't have to care about the "lowly" (because rationally she had more than enough on her own), she did.

I became fascinated by larger than life historical figures and reading on to find out that they, too, are confined to a life filled with human fragility. And since I didn't even know who she was until she died, Diana made me care to learn about the past.

Like it or not, whether they deserve (or want) the attention or not, some people just are famous. And their actions just will make history. Certain events peak the consciousness of the world and create moments of collective memory-- "where were you when" moments that a history person like me thrives off of.

Diana's funeral was the first of those moments in my life. Will's wedding just seems to follow suit-- and I didn't want to miss the opportunity to say I did it.

Plus, there's just something enchanting about the people who manage to deal with fame generously and respectably, in a way that doesn't just make history, it changes it.

In that way, I find the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge quite enchanting, indeed.

Four.

I blinked.
That's all.
And this happened.
This and a lot of papers.
And essay exams.
Oh the essay exams.

Four years.

That's four birthdays.

Four halloweens.

Four Christmases.

Four Easters.

Four rooms.

Four sets of exam weeks.

Four years of sleep.

Four years of activity.

Four years of parties.

Four years of solitude.

Four years of graduation.

Four years, people.

Four years of people.

Four hellos

and four goodbyes.

Well, three goodbyes, with a fourth one eminent and strikingly more permanent than the rest.

Four is my most and least favorite word right now.