The Unofficial British Royal Family Pages

Friday 28 April 2006

Vivat Regina! Eighty Years Young

On Friday, April 21, 1926, Elizabeth Alexandra Mary, first child and daughter, was born to the Duke and Duchess of York. At the time there was no sense at all that her uncle would not succeed to the throne, so she and her younger sister Margaret Rose were brought up in a no-pressure household. There was plenty of public interest in her of course, because Uncle David hadn�t married, and there was always the possibility... Neither of her parents considered it a reality though, and neither prepared themselves or their daughter. But when Elizabeth was ten the worst did become the reality.

Seems her uncle, who had just become King Edward VIII, but hadn�t yet been crowned, wanted to marry some American divorcee, and refused to listen to reason. He insisted she become queen too. The government was equally insistent she would not. So the King quit. Abdicated. Resigned. Overnight her cozy household was turned upside down. Father was King, mother was Queen and- oh heavens- Elizabeth was the heir apparent.

Europe and Britain were heading into another major war and it would be on her parents� heads to lead their people through it by example. And no matter what she may have privately thought, Elizabeth was no coward. On her 21^st birthday she declared, during a radio broadcast to the Commonwealth, that she would be dedicating her life to their service. It would be apparent to all, even 54 years after she herself ascended the throne as Queen Elizabeth II, that that dedication remains the backbone of her life.

Last Friday this noble and gracious sovereign reached her 80^th birthday. Her heir Charles hosted a special evening at Kew Palace. Gun salutes boomed out over London and countryside. People flocked to Windsor Castle to pay her their respects and show her their love. Cascades of fireworks lit up the night sky. A special service of thanksgiving in the Windsor chapel, attended by the Royal Family, ended the week of partying.

Worldwide radio call-in programs, newspapers, magazines and television biographies abounded during the weeks heading toward the big day, even in the U.S. All assessed her life and her long reign, and few could find fault with her or the way she has performed that life of service.

To all these accolades, perspectives, expert viewpoints, and best wishes, the Jester just wanted to add a special greeting. So I have written the Queen a letter. Here it is.

Dear Your Majesty,

Thank you for showing up.

Thank you for all those innumerable times you stomped around in the middle of a deluge to inspect troops, or chat with the ladies at the county fetes who wanted you to admire their crafts or taste their homemade jams. You did it because you knew how long they had been working to prepare and make them, just for you. You were not going to let them down.

Thank you for all the times you sat in the boiling sun to watch native dances, smiling and noticing everything, when you head was probably splitting.

Thank you for your hundreds of overseas tours, opening Parliaments with dignity, only to read Throne Speeches you may not have agreed with.

Thank you for hosting innumerable foreign dignitaries, making literally thousands of speeches, or suffering in silence the insulting behaviours of your subject nations (and sometimes your consort). Through it all you never once expressed exasperation, anger, or your true desire to be back home, with your feet up, watching Eastenders.

Thank you too for appearing not to notice when people around you made blunders of the funny kind. Like the time when you were visiting Canada while still a Princess. When your limousine pulled up and one soldier of the honour guard brought his rifle up to �Present Arms�, a lady�s hat was seen dangling firmly from his bayonet. You and the Duke got out, and while he tried hard not to laugh as that poor lady, who had just stood a little too close to the front lines, tried to get the soldier to give her hat back, you simply pretended not to have seen a thing.

You see, Ma�am, it�s the little things that have endeared you to your subjects all these 54 years. Because of your selfless dedication to work that had no real job description, and which you made up by good instincts and wisdom as you went along, you have struck personal chords in people in all walks of life.

Five decades after that bayonet incident, in that same city, a very special 80^th birthday party was held in your honour. There was a birthday cake cut with a flourish by a naval officer�s personal sword. Toasts were given, and a grand Afternoon Tea served, complete with commentary on how the ritual of taking tea began with Queen Victoria. We had to sing Happy Birthday twice because the TV cameraman wanted another take. (Oh yes, the party was a featured item on local newscasts, repeated five times that evening). But the reason it was so special was because it was all about how you had personally affected people.

Regular people like the now old soldiers who kept their WWII commissions, with your father�s signature on them, reverently preserved in frames all these years.

Ladies who as young girls had watched you in your carriage heading toward and returning from your Coronation ceremony, or were presented to you on some occasion, and remembered it all like it was yesterday.

A New Zealand immigrant who still recalled your visit there when he was a boy, and heard Sir Edmund Hilary dedicate his conquering of Mt. Everest to you.

The retired politician who had been in charge of seating arrangements for a Luncheon you attended in that same bayonet city, and in trying to place ordinary people around you, sat you next to a woman who worked as a whale researcher and lived on a houseboat. On your other side he placed a famous author. And he had marveled at how you were so knowledgeable about both literature and science, asked intelligent questions and thoroughly enjoyed yourself (to his great relief).

There was a gentleman who had served as a young gunner on a cruiser assigned to escort the Britannia as she sailed up the St. Lawrence River to Montreal. Everyone had worked so hard to make it look perfect for you. All the ships were freshly painted, the men spit and polish in dress whites, the ladies in dress gloves. It was his fervent hope that you hadn�t noticed the smell from the uncollected garbage that had piled up for four days on the other side of the docked vessels, as you sailed past in the blazing summer heat.

So thank you, Ma�am. Thank you for taking such good care of your young grandsons after their mother Diana died. I know that when you instantly didn�t return to London to join the massive (and very weird) outpouring of public grief, it wasn�t because you didn�t care about Diana, but because you chose to put her boys, William and Harry, first. While their father dealt with the funeral arrangements you and the rest of the family stayed close to them, keeping those traumatized little boys safe and out of sight. It was only when they were strong enough and prepared to endure the scrutiny they would surely be subjected to the second they appeared in public that you all returned to London, and you acknowledged the family�s loss. That the Princes handled the whole miserable time with great self-control and maturity is a blessing you can take no small credit for.

You spent your youth in a time when large parts of the globe seemed hell-bent on each other�s destruction. Nothing�s changed there, but every day technology and cultures go through sea changes that you and the Palace organization simply adapt to and roll with. While the Commonwealth fractures, then heals, you continue to guide it. Lack of education makes it more difficult for the supporters of constitutional monarchical governments to instill the importance of your role as Head of State, and its continuance, in today�s kids. Nevertheless you see the big picture, and know it is your ongoing presence in their lives, as it has been in those at the birthday party, that is the greatest promoter the monarchy has.

You have risen above your family�s crises and put up with their poor life choices because you love them and want them to be happy; even when you know in your heart of hearts that choice is the worst one they ever made. You have done your very difficult and unique job extremely well, served your people to the best of your many abilities, and the vast majority is really thankful for the news that you will continue to show up for many more happy birthdays to come.

Long Live Queen Elizabeth II- and so say all of us!

Always Your faithful servant,

- The Court Jester