How is it that millions of people can ignore three unwinnable wars, the bankruptcy of both states and countries, and the devastation of the tsunami in Japan to watch the extravagant details surrounding the royal wedding?

 

Perhaps we are already saturated with sadness, and the splendor of an elegant couple in a carriage made a century ago, with six hundred dukes and duchesses draws us in. There is a hunger in the human soul for fairy tales, where hope rules supreme and true love wins. 

Does watching the glamor of someone across the Atlantic whom I will never meet trump the ordinary chatter across the table with the person I married? Ironically, one photographer I listened to said he was putting all his effort into getting a shot of plain humanity.... a look between the bride and groom that all of us can connect to.

 

There is a book Surrendering to Motherhood: Losing Your Mind, Finding Your Soul by Iris Krasnow in which she describes her struggle to let go of a chic job interviewing glittering people. She has four boys in as many years, kids who fly into her lap when she walks in the door after a business trip in Paris. They throw their eight smeared arms across her designer suit, and thrust play dough pots in her face for praise. She wants to tell them where she has been, eating truffles at the Embassy, but they have no time for that. They want to wrestle. Now. 

 

She realizes that clinking crystal with celebrities is an adrenaline rush. But as soon as the door closes behind her the pretty people cannot even recall her name, much less her favorite flavor of ice cream. These sons press their noses to the window when she drives away calling promises of the gifts she will bring home an eternity of hours from now.