Rockets' Red Glare

Long live the Queen!

Wait…what? Mate, it’s America’s semiquincentennial. Hardly the time to be cheering for the British monarchy.

Yeah, nah.

I’m talking about the RMS Queen Mary.

She sailed into Long Beach, California, on December 9, 1967, and is now a stationary hotel and museum (On December 11, 1967, she was conveyed to the City of Long Beach and removed from the British Registry).

I have had three encounters with this great ship: as a vendor employee, patron, and celebrant.

But first some history of the Grand Old Lady.

She was built by the Scottish shipbuilding firm John Brown & Company at their shipyard in Clydebank, Scotland, known as “Job No. 534.”

Her Majesty Queen Mary, after whom the ship was named, launched her at 3:10 p.m., on September 26, 1934. With scissors, Her Majesty cut a satin cord which released a bottle of Australian wine (Gobsmacked—not a Kiwi Babich vino?) which shattered on the port bow.

A rainy day could not keep away about a quarter of a million onlookers to the event as the band played “Rule Britannia.”

C’mon, sing it with me:

“Rule, Britannia! rule the waves;

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.”

Let’s keep the creative vibe going—recite with me the closing stanza of UK’s Poet Laureate John Masefield’s poem “Number 534,” composed to celebrate and honour the launch of RMS Queen Mary.

“May shipwreck and collision, fog and fire,

Rock, shoal and other evils of the sea,

Be kept from you; and may the heart’s desire

Of those who speed your launching come to be.”

Captained by Sir Edgar Britten, with 1,957 passengers and 1,174 crew, the RMS Queen Mary’s maiden voyage began on May 27, 1936, departing Southampton, England, and stopping briefly in Cherbourg, France, before crossing the Atlantic to New York.

Hardly the passenger ship for every Tom, Dick, and Harry, the RMS Queen Mary was a floating, transatlantic five-star hotel and Royal Mail Ship, contracted by the British government to carry overseas mail (what the RMS stands for). Notable guests include Ella Fitzgerald, James Stewart, Robert Mitchum, Alfred Hitchcock, Bob Hope, and Winston Churchill.

Everything changed during World War II. The luxurious ocean liner was converted into a troopship, painted battleship grey, and became known as the “Grey Ghost.” This also included carrying Australian and New Zealand troops from Sydney in 1940.

During the Second World War, John Masefield’s poetic line “and other evils of the sea” proved to be a benediction: Despite a bounty offered by Adolf Hitler of $250,000 and the Iron Cross, the Queen Mary was never successfully attacked or damaged by German naval forces.

My own history with the Queen Mary spans three very different visits. My first “Welcome Aboard” moment was in the 1990s as an employee for On Command Video. They provided pay-per-view movies to guest rooms. During this time, I was never a vacationer of the five-star floating hotel; just provided five-star service!

My second visit was on Saturday, May 30, 2026, as a patron for The Edgar Allan Poe Speakeasy. My wife and daughters surprised me with an early Father’s Day gift with tickets to a ninety-minute theatrical production inside the Queen’s Salon that combined stage actors performing eerie monologues from Poe’s literature. Dim lighting and period décor made it feel as though Poe himself might step through the door.

Each of the four tales was followed by a waiter serving custom-crafted cocktails to embody the vibe of each story. Montresor’s Revenge was my favourite monster-mix.

And tonight, July 4, 2026, I stand aboard the Queen Mary with my wife Teresa celebrating America’s 250th birthday.

As I muse on the Queen Mary’s remarkable history, I realize that she has become a symbol of the evolving relationship between the United Kingdom and the United States. Once bitter enemies, our nations are now among the closest of allies. Churchill famously described this partnership as the “Special Relationship,” and the Queen Mary’s permanent home in Long Beach stands as a fitting reminder of that enduring bond.

Francis Scott Key, like you 212 years ago, I gaze to the night sky. 

“The rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air” are no longer signs of war, but brilliant fireworks celebrating the birth of a nation.

God bless America!

Accessing the Broxicon

So, you’re thinking of going bro?

Go, bro, go!

As a Kiwi, I’m a big fan of the brocabulary. My blog “Quid Pro Bro” is for the bros and broesses, especially for those with a Latin appreciation (a tip of the corona triumphalis to Mr. Staniland, my KBHS Latin teacher).

Obviously, “bro” is an abbreviation of “brother, a male sibling. Over time, “brother” has expanded to include those with a group affiliation or as a term of endearment primarily to other men. My nephew Brian A. uses “my brother” very effectively as an informal greeting when meeting new people.

For Kiwis “bro” is used to address mates, whānau, acquaintances, or total strangers. It establishes an instant warmth and friendliness. My sister Kim is quite the bromeister and frequently texts me, “Miss you, bro.” Miss you, too.

It is used in informal speech, not for the hoity-toity crowd. For example, you’re in the Throne Room at Buckingham Palace being knighted by King Charles III. Not the occasion to drop the “Your Brojesty.”

Yeah, nah.

Let’s stick with “Your Majesty” at all investitures.

The word “bro” is also very amenable to affixation and creative portmanteaus. For example, it’s Lent, and you’re on an office Macca’s (McDonalds) run. One of your colleagues has ordered a Filet-O-Fish sandwich. You could ask, “Do you want fries with it, brotato?”Or with the younger crowd, especially in So Cal, you can go with “brochacho.” My grandson Silas was getting restless on a family car ride. “Chill, brochacho, chill” was the advice offered by another passenger.

Or you’re on a summer holiday, cruising the various Greek islands in the Mediterranean. Prior to the trip, you even brushed up on the Twelve Olympians and can name more than just Zeus, Poseidon, Hades…Hera…Hephaestus…Dionysus…et cetera. You look out of the cabin porthole and see a storm is brewing. A celestial plea might be, “Help us, Brosiedon, help us.”

As with all lexicons, words, their pronunciation, spelling evolve and change over time. Just dust off your copy of Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales and wrap your twenty-first century tongue around that Middle English. The Knight of the Prologue was indeed a “worthy man,” a true “k-neecht.”

And so, changes are afoot (amouth) with “bro,” or should I say “brah.” Vowel flattening requires less effort for our jaw, tongue, and throat. Why? Because we’re linguistically lazy, brah.”

Unlike New Zealand, in California I hear “brah” a lot.

“Sup, brah.”

There has also been a linguistic evolution and meaning from “brah” to “bruh,” the latter now used as an exclamation of total disbelief or a reaction to something wild or unexpected.

As a sports junkie, I first heard “bruh” used effectively by Shannon Sharpe, the former NFL player, on the sports debate show “Skip and Shannon: Undisputed” in his high-energy, passionate debates with his co-host.

My daughter Genevieve often anchors her texts up front with “bruh,” setting the emotional tone for what is to follow: “bruh, why are they saying…”

So, whether you’re saying bro, brah, or bruh, you’re taking part in a linguistic tradition that’s equal parts friendship, creativity, and good-natured banter. Language changes because people play with it, and few words have been uttered more enthusiastically than this one. Long may the Broxicon expand.

Sweet as, bro!

© 2026

Bro-Dads: Happy Father's Day!