My mother was never a big fan of royalty. She always declared that she would have a difficult time curtsying to a king or a queen. For that matter she found the tradition of kissing the ring of a Catholic bishop as a sign of respect to be rather absurd. Mama was one of those people who sincerely believed that every human being was one hundred percent equal to every other person who lived on the earth. She did not think that the accident of one’s birth should ever define them. She felt that the trappings of wealth and title were only a veneer and that underneath all of the accouterments we were basically all the same. Strangely, however, she greatly admired Queen Elizabeth, not so much because she was a monarch but because she was a sterling example of a fine lady.
For as long as I am able to remember my mother liked to draw comparisons between herself and Queen Elizabeth. She pointed out that they were only two months apart in age. Mama often noted that Queen Elizabeth had dark hair like she did that she wore in a similar style. My mother enjoyed noting that Prince Charles and I were born in the same year. In so many ways Mama saw herself as the commoner version of the queen. Even during the nineties when Queen Elizabeth’s popularity faltered a bit my mother was an unwavering fan. She noted that Princess Diana who was at the heart of much of the trouble simply did not fully understand the responsibilities of being a leader and she winced while noting that she did not think that Diana fully appreciated the need for decorum under any circumstances. Mama often posited that our own country’s Jackie Kennedy carried herself more royally than Diana did. Continue reading “Making History”