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On Marriage

 My husband is mourning the Queen; he sends me poems from the p.o.v. of a corgi, snapshots of a "regal" rainbow, "letters" from Paddington to Elizabeth.


He has read extensively about the strange bus protocols that heads of government have swallowed (not by choice), in preparation for the funeral. My husband has read also about Anne, and how her role may grow, and he wonders aloud if primogeniture is still "a thing."

He asks if we can pose for a selfie in front of an improvised "tribute" to Elizabeth; the tribute is in South Orange, and it's roses climbing up a streetlight. After the photo, Marc discovers the roses are *not* a tribute. They're just roses. The tribute part was a narrative that Marc had constructed in his head.

"Of course," says Marc, "there isn't room in the funeral for *former* heads of government. If you're going to be invited, you have to control your country right now. The head of Turkey declined, because he couldn't tolerate the thought of the bus. Barack and Michelle have received special invitations--but, famously, Barack Obama had an extraordinary bond with the Queen."

At night, I offer to watch a re-run of "The Crown," as an emotional gesture. Marc shakes his head. "It's too much," he says. "It's too raw, right now. Do you know that the extant members of the family will need to do extra work in the months ahead? Think how small the family has become. We're shedding Philip, we're shedding Liz. We've lost Harry, we've lost Meghan....And Andrew, with his Jeffrey Epstein connection....This is why we're all turning to Anne....Truly, she is one of the hardest workers in England...."

"OK, then," I whisper. "Maybe you would like to do some journaling about all of this.....?"

No one tells you that marriage will involve this kind of scene.

P.S. On Saturday, I wrote that Broadway's "Chicago" seems to be doing all right. Actually, according to the Times, the production is on shaky financial ground (or close-to-shaky). Stay tuned.
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