Mom and the Queen

Forever England

My Mom passed away in 2011 in Cincinnati, her home for sixty-five years.  But she was born in England, in a suburb of London.  And while she lived in the United States from 1946, she remained a citizen of the United Kingdom throughout her life.  At her request, on her tombstone is the opening sentence of the Rupert Brooke poem, The Soldier:

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is forever England. 

Mom was a warrior in World War II, a member of the clandestine Special Operations Executive.  She served as an agent, a go-between from headquarters in England and operatives in France, Belgium and Yugoslavia.  Mom was dropped off in dark pastures by small aircraft called Lysanders, and even had to bail out of one on fire over Belgium. 

She took the ultimate risks for her homeland. And she lost her fiancé (not my father) flying a Spitfire aircraft in the Battle of Britain.  Mom shared her dedication early in her children’s lives.  When I was a boy, we lived in Dayton, Ohio, home of the US Air Force Museum.  Our family would go to tour the aircraft.  Mom would pause for a moment to touch the wing of the Spitfire, shedding tears for the memories in her past.  And she would point at the Lysander hanging from the ceiling, telling me that was “her” plane.  It wasn’t until later, twenty-five years after the War ended, that I knew the reason why. So Mom was as British as British could be – even as she loved the United States almost as much.

A Magical Place

Mom loved the symbols and ceremonies of royal England.  As a kid we made trips “home” every few years.  Mom took us to watch the trooping of the color outside of Buckingham Palace; the red-coated soldiers with their great bearskin hats, the armored Horse Guards with their silver helmets.  We went to Windsor to see the “Crown Jewels”, and the tower where Mary Queen of Scots spent her last days before losing her head.   As my sister would say, Mom made England a “magical place” for us kids.  It was Mom’s home, with aunts, uncles and cousins spread throughout the country.  And it was always warm and welcoming, always smiling and familiar to us.

My Mom didn’t “know” the Queen, but she admired her.  Mom was a decade older, but respected the young Princess who learned to “turn a wrench” as a teenaged mechanic during World War II.  And she empathized with the twenty-four year old Princess turned Queen. 

Inheritance

The Queen wasn’t “meant” to be the Monarch.  Her father was the second son, out of direct line for the throne.  But her uncle, Edward, abdicated the throne “…for the woman he loved”, and Elizabeth’s father became King in 1936.  Elizabeth went from a “member of the Royal family” to next in line for the throne.

Then as Princess, she was living a youthful lifestyle with her soulmate Prince Phillip Mountbatten and their young children when her father died young at fifty-six. She then assumed the burden of the monarchy, and the sacrifice of her personal life, for her country.  Mom, from her wartime experience, knew what it was like to almost instantly go from a carefree young adulthood to awesome responsibilities.

Pomp and Circumstance

Mom reveled in the pomp and circumstance of the British Royal family.  She watched the marriage of Prince Charles and Lady Diana, the “fairytale” wedding in London, and the funeral for Diana far too soon afterwards. And while we had an “open” dining room table, where conversations ranged around the world both geographically and politically,  she brooked no criticism of the Queen, not even by others who carried the Royal Coat of Arms on their passports. 

My mother and the Queen were of the same era.  I didn’t realize how much so, until just the other day.  My wife was watching the scene of the Queen meeting the new Prime Minister at Balmoral Castle in Scotland.  She noticed that the Queen’s sitting room looked a lot like Mom’s living room; the same style of chairs, settees and end tables with lamps carefully placed.  It was the typical “formal” living room of their era, different from a more relaxed “family room”.  I’m sure the Queen didn’t have fresh cigarettes in the box on the “coffee table”. Her father was a heavy smoker who died of lung cancer.  But I remember in the 1980’s when Mom finally stopped stocking them for visitors, decades after Dad quit smoking.   

The Queen Speaks   

And both Mom and the Queen spoke with the same “High British” accent, Mom’s carefully crafted in private boarding school, and maintained through decades of American experience.  The Queen and her sister Margaret were the last of the Royal family educated at home by private tutors.  But their accent was the same.   When I heard the Queen speak, I was always reminded of Mom.

Thursday morning it was announced that the Queen was under “medical supervision”, a euphemism for a severe health crisis of a ninety-six year old.  Her son, Prince Charles, was at her side, along with her daughter Anne.  Her other sons Andrew and Edward, and her grandsons William and Harry and the rest of the family were making their way to Scotland.  When everyone is called in, it’s clearly serious.

We’ve all been there.  When Mom’s time finally came, we hurried family from all over the country.  Mom bravely hung on, wanting to have a final say and goodbye to all her children and grandchildren.  I’m sure the Queen had final commands and goodbyes as well.

But Thursday afternoon the word came out – Queen Elizabeth II, reigning monarch for seventy years of the United Kingdom of Great Britain, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, has died.  Her son, the seventy-two year old Prince of Wales, is now King.  Whether he’s King Charles the III, King George the VII, or chooses some other name, I know what my Mom would say.

The Queen is dead – Long Live the King!!

Update – It’s King Charles the Third!