Kickin' It Like It's 1399

So it seems a go-getter in central California made international news this week when he, according to the headlines, sold his 14 year old daughter for $16,000, over a hundred cases of beer, and an undisclosed amount of meat. If you're anything like me, two things flashed through your brain in quick succession upon hearing this: 1) That's awesome! and 2) Wait a minute....what kind of beer are we talking about here? While I applaud the quantity, I won't pretend that there were any surprises in the list: 100 cases of Corona, 50 cases of Negro Modelo, and six bottles of wine. I know, I know: why so much wine?

Of course, anyone with a high school education should recognize this as the dowry that it is, barring the minor detail that dowries typically come from the bride's family to the groom's, but the fact remains that marriage arrangements have historically involved far more than the transfer of children. Secondly, the meat and drink was clearly for the wedding reception. And the $16,000....well, yeah, now you're selling your kid.

As ever, though, the devil's in the details. The groom who was expected to pay all this is only 18 years old, and when, not surprisingly, he didn't deliver in full, the father complained to the police and that's how he got himself arrested. And maybe it's just me, but I particularly enjoy the article's fumbling grasp at political correctness. The father, they write, "is a member of an indigenous Mexican Trique community. Greenfield police Chief Joe Grebmeier said the case highlights an issue confronting local authorities in that arranged marriages with girls as young as 12 are not uncommon among the Trique." Actually, asshole, it's not uncommon for any culture on the face of the planet; this isn't just something that brown people do. Sure, it was far more explicit in centuries past, but where do you think our little tradition about the bride's family paying for the wedding comes from?

But despite all this - even the obscene quantities of wine at play, not seen by mortal man since the vomitoriums of ancient Rome - this story spoke to me because it hits so close to home. Greenfield, CA, ground zero for this hilarity, is a mere 12.6 miles from King City, CA, the hometown of a dear friend's bride. We all see now that this friend - we'll call him Schmeg Schmallagher - really dodged a bullet on this one. He could have very well been stuck paying off his father-in-law for years to come, pulling off the road during family vacations to see if the local butcher has anything on sale. Come to think of it, they have recently gotten into home-brewing beer...a lot. Oh no. Dearest Schmeg, do you suffer under the oppressive yoke of a delicious "meat and mead" debt? Do you spend long nights staring blankly at the receipt creeping from an old-timey calculator, wondering how you'll hit next month's quota? Must you buy the largest Christmas goose in the shop window, not because you are filled with holiday spirit like a rejuvenated Scrooge, but because you hear the ghostly chains of debt rattling in the distance?

Persevere, you Prince of Harlem, you king of New York. Persevere.