Wednesday, April 20, 2011

My Queen

I grew up with the Queen looking down on me like god in places where it behooved me to speak quietly, particularly the Post Office in the small northern town where I lived. And because I was not trained formally to believe in god I did believe in the queen because she was so real and ever present. I felt my parents, who had emigrated from Great Britain, were somehow related to her. The young Queen who I encountered behind the Post Office wickets, wore a beautiful blue gown and sash sporting her very lovely yet understated crown, surrounded by a gilt frame covered in a patina of small town dust. She was the Queen of the school I attended, she was always there looking down on me with an expression that was part benevolence part duty. She represented many of the values I was raised with, staying calm, speaking well, tending the garden, wearing rubber boots in spring, thinking sensible thoughts and not showing off, all good stuff I think. As The Royal Wedding approaches and the excitement builds for William and Kate's big day I see the Queen as less of a god and more like a granny who must be terribly proud of her grandson. I bet she feels sad about the Lady Di business, she is after all only human and being British the stiff upper lip does quiver at times. I know mine will on the big day.

1 comment:

Holly L. said...

this is a charming perspective to hear. I, too, am excited about the wedding of the young ones. you need to hear my mom tell the story of her father believing it important to awaken his young daughter, in the wee hours, so that they could listen to the abdication of King George VIII on the radio.

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