What a week it has been
What a week — the solemn remembering of 9-11 — sadness over the death of England's beloved Queen Elizabeth — and wrap it all up in forest choke-on-the-smoke.
Last week I mentioned our country gathering together after the terrorist attack in 2001. The red, white and blue was like a gigantic blanket we huddled beneath for comfort. It was also a tablecloth stretching across our nation's table, where we gave thanks for our blessings.
In the United States there's really no single person we identify with our flag. It is a collective “we the people.” But in Great Britain that's not true. There is a person — who for the last 70 years — has been united with flag and country in the hearts of the Commonwealth — Queen Elizabeth II.
She was born to royal possibility, tutored for leadership — but that doesn't guarantee success. There was a grit and grace and gusto inside her that made it all work. She draped the Union Jack in hats — and it managed to not look silly. She was also the young woman who learned to drive and maintain military vehicles at the close of World War II.
I'm surprised by how much I miss the presence of the Queen. Her reign began the year I was born. One British writer said, “She was my North Star.” Steady. Reliable. As much as a human being can be. I wanted her to keep going — and heaven knows, she tried.
She belonged to “then” and “now.” My mother's — who would be 100 on Sept. 15 — generation. Perhaps another reason I feel her loss. My generation is about to become the “front line.” Who will I look to — beyond my horizon — for those skeins of wisdom.
The Queen became more stooped in her old age. But that brought her closer to the earth. Nearer — approachable. As someone spoke, “She was England's grandmother.”
My mom had only a couple of days left when I felt the “matriarch mantle” laid on my shoulders. I was going to be the oldest woman in our family. Would I give all the love and support and attention I could to our clan of four children and twenty grandchildren. I accepted that mantle. Queen Elizabeth took it on for an entire nation at the age of 25. I'd be bent at 96, too.
That was such a good story of the American tourist out for a country hike in Scotland who didn't recognize her on the trail. Who asked where she lived, and upon learning she lived in London asked if she'd met the Queen. She didn't let on — even when he handed her his camera to snap a picture of him with her security officer — who she told him had met the Queen. To him she was a pleasant octogenarian out for a bit of fresh air.
What he did not see is there was a whole Commonwealth residing within that little old lady. Seventy years of unwavering service offered from the heart. A banner life. Worthy of the flag to fly in residence.