Posted September 26, 2022: The Queen is in her coffin, moving toward Westminster Abbey. It’s almost 4AM here in New Mexico, me on my couch—one old lady saying farewell to another. I’m here both in mourning, and in thrall to historical events.
Many of us are saying goodbye to OUR Queen this week. For whatever reason anyone of us might wish for a royal personage in our lives, preferably one with mostly admirable qualities. “Elizabeth Alexandra Mary, officially Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of her other realms and territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith” was, for most of our long lives, the only royal game in town…certainly for Americans and generally for the rest of the world. I tend to believe we all desire dignified representatives of our places and positions in the world. Sadly there are so very few, whether in the world’s faux-democracies or remnants of great kingdoms. With almost no competition, Elizabeth had, by default, become the World’s Queen. Seriously. The Scandinavian royals ride their bikes to the grocers for heaven’s sake, and any other claimants, like the Japanese queen, are nearly invisible. There were tears in my eyes when the choir sang “God Save the King,” which I chose to hear as “God Save the Queen,” for one last time. I was twelve when Elizabeth became queen, and today I’m 83. She’s My Queen.
I watched every second of the pomp and circumstance of the royal funeral as only religion, the military, and great wealth can stage it? The god, guns, and gold spectacle. Isn’t it grand? How will the world ever replace its addiction to the pageantry associated with pretty young people marching, brilliant colors/sparkling jewels, and machines-that-go-bang-in-the-night, with tree-planting ceremonies and folk festivals? Nah, not going to happen.
For someone like me who distrusts all things religious, military and financial, it does require a certain suspension of basic beliefs to immerse myself in such an event, but I managed. For that one week I simply reveled in the glorious results when the power invested in god, guns and gold is let loose to celebrate a little soft-power lady, so pretty in pink, so steadfast in duty.
I am curious about the royals. Okay, so they’re celebrities but in my opinion of a slightly higher caliber than most of our film, sports, and political celebrities (well, except for Andrew perhaps). There they all were. The pleasantly unattractive Charles and his sexy ageing Queen Consort; the acerbic hard-working sister-buddy; the good bro and the bad bro. And there were those two good-looking boys, Diana’s genes doing well by the royal family. The beautiful bad wife and the beautiful good wife (one whines, the other doesn’t) were in attendance. And two of Kate and William’s perfect children. The littlest one, who is bound to run away with the circus one day, was too young and unrestrainable to attend, one assumes. Why do I find this quite ordinary family known as the royals so endlessly fascinating?
I’ve always been enthralled by our shared Queen, as the head personage of the world’s royals, but also as mum and grandmum. The bits and pieces that are of the greatest appeal, and inspire the greatest affection for me, include a supposedly wicked sense of humor, her love of horse and dogs, and her strong grasp of world and UK history, politics and current events. My most deeply felt admiration however is that she was calm and dignified under all circumstances. And who among us can claim that.
Teresa and I visited Buckingham Palace a few years ago where the best exhibit was of the queen’s dresses and gowns worn over the years. Elizabeth was a small person who ever-so-slightly widened as the years went by. Her dresses were simply structured, in rich, simple-seeming materials of glowing colors. She was never going to cause embarrassment to her family, herself, her country, her commonwealth, or women everywhere who were just trying to age gracefully.
No breathless chatter on Britbox or the BBC where I’ve watching. The church service made the likeness between Lutherans and the Church of England obvious. Martin Luther broke away, but not too far. I had a moment of wanting to be a Lutheran again. In which case, I may as well go all the way, get a gun, and start caring about money. Probably too late. But Queen Elizabeth managed to carry the institutional weight of all that with grace and dignity. God Save the Queen indeed.
In 1984, my friend Sue and I went on our first big journey abroad. We visited Buckingham Palace and Clarence House, which is where this photo was taken, literally as the nice young man pinched Sue’s butt.
