Cake

Let them eat cake. Though undocumented, Marie Antoinette is credited for saying this. It stands as an indictment against her appalling disconnect between the unimaginable riches of her life and the starvation of her people. It is her epithet and could mark her tomb as effectively as her own name. She reigns in history not only as a queen but also as a frivolous, insensitive caricature. But here is my confessional. I am an optimist. I want to see the good. Surely, it is there. Could it be that somewhere in that silk and diamond clad bosom lay a heart that meant well? Consider cake for a moment. (Yes, I know that the cake in this instance was probably a sweetened bread much like today’s brioche, but bear with me a moment.) What sweet do we turn to in our high celebrations—Weddings, birthdays, baby showers, and, for heaven’s sake, Mardi Gras? Yes, cake. Cake accompanies joy. What if the Queen knew something that we all instinctively know—that cake and well being are intertwined; that a simple bite can, if only for a moment, lighten our hearts, make us believe that everything is going to be ok. What if she were trying to bequeath a sense of comfort to those who desperately needed it? Scrape together a bit of sugar, a handful of flour, an egg, and you engineer a bright spot in your day. Perhaps it was impossible then. But in the spirit of seeking the best in someone and taking advice that in a kinder world is not so bad after all, Let us eat cake.