It’s Good To Be The King

There’s an awful lot happening in our world of musings that I could focus on today.  The spectacle of unbridled cultism that CNN offered up in prime time last night.  Bob Iger’s earnings call where he teed up the possibilities of Hulu being eliminated, moving the company out of Florida and joining the growing ranks of media companies rediscovering a world we used to call syndication.  The foolish and politically motivated decision a certain studio chief reached to TURN DOWN a legitimate series renewal for one of her new company’s most successful and accomplished writer-producers.  If nothing else, yesterday’s news cycle has built up a nice-sized list of topics to carry us through the next few days.

But all of that takes a back seat today,  Because today, much as Donna Martin did on BEVERLY HILLS. 90210, Bradley Allen Graduates!!

As some of you may know, Brad is my beloved nephew, and the closest example to a son I will ever have.  I got to hold him during his bris when bad weather and a full house of hungry relatives accelerated the ceremony.  I was never more nervous, and I never had heard such a loud wail in my life.   Given what was happening to him at the time, I suppose it was justified.

In my feeble attempt to try and calm him, I evoked my faux-squire voice from the classic Bugs Bunny cartoon and cooed “Hark!  The King Speaketh!! ”  All Hail The Mighty King!!”  “The King” was how I continued to refer to him through his childhood.  It became a running gag, much as has been his pet name for me, one that evokes a certain sidekick to another King, one I once more closely resembled.

Yesterday morning, before a crowd of cheering friends and family at Temple University’s Licouras Center, where his beloved Owls attempt to play competitive basketball, The King received his diploma, a BS degree in Neuroscience from the College of Liberal Arts.  Summa Cum Laude, thank you very much.  And Phi Beta Kappa to boot.   This morning, the full university commencement was held.

And, as it turns out, I’ve learned that through a convoluted path through distant though newly beloved cousins. we both actually have a connection to someone else who only recently became a king.  I’ll try and connect the dots:

My great-grandfather Lewis remarried after my great-grandmother’s untimely passing.  Leah, his second wife, eventually had  a grandson named Alan, who married a woman named Blanche.  Blanche was a distant cousin of a family named Windsor.  You can figure out the rest, likely better than I can.  We’re many multiples of cousins apart, and once removed, and through marriage.  We don’t officially qualify for the friends and family discount at Buckingham Palace.

But I’m pretty sure if a face like this tried to convince the guards that he was indeed royalty, I suspect he’d probably get that discount, not to mention a guided tour.

The U.K. can have their king.  I’m awfully glad I have this one as part of my royal family.

Con-grad-ulations, King.

Until next time…

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