Turning down all those York dukedoms was a saving grace

I got a lot of mail encouraging me to take the job as Duke of York, which I appreciated. I thought long and hard about it but decided to take my name out of the running. I hope you aren’t disappointed with me but looking back on it, I believe it was the right decision.

Andrew Whatshisname messed the job up royally and I don’t think the people of York were very happy with him. I know King Brother wasn’t. He took him off the royal dole and now the poor guy gets to find out what it is like to be a commoner. Probably had to give back all the medals he didn’t earn. Bless his heart.

Also, there was the matter of travel. York, England, is about four thousand miles away, or 67 hundred kilometers if you want to be British about it, and that would mean a lot of travel going to look after my subjects. As I understand the job, I’d have to collect taxes from vassals and peasants, manage large estates, hold court where you have to wear one of those silly wigs, raise an army when the king told me to, lead the Boxing Day parade (I don’t even like the sport) and cut the ribbon when one of my lieges opened a new coinoperated washateria in town. That’s too much work.

And then I remembered there is a York in Pennsylvania. It’s only about 700 miles from here or 1183 kilometers if you want to be British about it. The Beloved Woman Who Shared My Name had an aunt and uncle and several cousins who lived in York, Pennsylvania, and I have visited the place. Once, it was just after the meltdown at the Three Mile Island nuclear power station which wasn’t all that far away from where they lived. I didn’t say anything to her because she was partial to her relatives, but I could swear they glowed in the dark.

Whether the town is ready for a duke was a consideration. Referring to the locals as vassals and peasants and then trying to collect taxes from them might prove to be a bit of a challenge. Also, they have their own court system, and I suspect silly wigs are frowned upon. And I don’t think there is much need to raise an army because I don’t sense that Donald Trump has plans at the moment to invade York. But if I was Philadelphia, I would be on the lookout.

However, York, Pennsylvania, is home to the Rainbow Rose Center, which says it is “the gathering place for the local LGBTQIA+ community.” If Donald Trump finds that out, they might want to start planning to raise their own army. Just saying.

There is a York in Nebraska, too. It has about eight thousand inhabitants and is home to the York University Panthers and has the World’s Largest Collection of Marbles. It is also the birthplace of Fred Niblo, the silent era film director, but I suspect you already knew that. It sounds like a nice place, but I don’t see a lot going on that would interest me as a duke. I doubt seriously that I could raise an army there, and being that it is Nebraska, I suspect the locals wash their own clothes so likely no one would be opening a coin-operated washateria in town.

And then I remembered there is a York right up the road in South Carolina. It’s a lot closer to home, which would be a big plus. I could just hop in the car and be there by lunchtime. Then it occurred to me that dukes don’t just hop in cars. It is probably considered very undukely. I’m thinking some guy in knickers and a red coat drives you everywhere. And that is not the way I would have wanted to arrive in York, South Carolina. They aren’t crazy about Georgians in South Carolina to start with, and having some guy in knickers and a red coat running around to open the door for me would get my dukedom off to a bad start.

So, there it is. Being the Duke of any York isn’t going to work. So, I do hereby decree that I will continue to do what I have been doing and that is to be a royal pain in the you-knowwhat to humorless wingnuts on both ends of the political spectrum. And I won’t have to change my name to Grace.

You can reach Dick Yarbrough at dick@dickyarbrough.com or at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139.