A nod to protocol
“It” happens, on average, once every five years. The nation gets a new titular head, appointed rather than elected. We all nod and life goes on because, really, that’s exactly what the job “is”. A nod to protocol. However, for the first time in my life, today, I watched the swearing in ceremony. Too much time on my hands or something.
The G-G gets a great seat, and a 21-gun salute, and bling. Lots of bling that is kept in a drawer, someplace. Today, she (the new G-G) was allowed to touch each medallion/chain before the man in the suit returned them to safekeeping. There were some great musical choices (albeit, no Moody Blues). I learned that really good violinists seem to get by with neither a chin rest nor a shoulder rest. Must see if it’s humanly possible, over a bed covered in pillows, because the fiddle will fall.
Seriously, though, the new G-G is one qualified individual. Speaks (at least) six languages. Has an engineer’s ring. Has learned how to be a SCUBA diver. Taught university. Gone to outer space. Wait… what? An astronaut with cool hair? Now I’m impressed! Five years from now, the job will pass to some other (not as qualified an) individual, but for now we’ve got a good one. Perhaps she’ll come by in a motorcade, and I can wave enthusiastically, and she’ll tell the driver to stop the limo and we’ll meet and greet… OK just dreaming on that last part, but the wave part could happen. This is Canada, where anything can happen. The Queen gets a substitute avatar that’s a freaking astronaut!
My family tree database passed the 70K mark this evening.
