On a wall of my mother’s
apartment hangs an off-white frame holding a slightly larger-than-normal
certificate. Like millions of similar documents, some of the wording is printed, and underlined spaces are filled in with neat calligraphy. It isn’t until you start
reading the text that you realize this isn’t your average award. The printed
text starts, “Our good friend…” with the name “Dwight D. Eisenhower, President
of the United States” filled in. Some more text prattles on about diplomatic
relations and responsibilities, and my father’s name gets inked in at some
point. Dated in 1959, The Crown has accepted the credentials of a young Vice Consul
to serve in Aden, representing America in a sandy part of England’s
fast-diminishing empire.
As befits any good
English drama, the best part is left to the end. An oversized signature at the
bottom reads “Elizabeth R,” with the curl of the final letter extending several
inches. While no red ribbon or wax seal finalizes the document like the Magna
Carta, it still makes a stunning visual. My family never had the gumption to
give it the “real signature” test, you know the one where you wet your finger
and just ever-so-slightly go over the tiniest part of the writing to see if the
ink bleeds. But if I had to guess, given the time, the way the world worked
then, and a slight fade to the ink, I think it’s the real deal.
This is merely one of
millions of such connections between Queen Elizabeth II and the rest of the
world. With her death yesterday, there will be no more signatures, flowers to
receive from curtsying children, or handshakes to new Prime Ministers. The physical
manifestation is gone; what then the legacy?
All eyes are now on her
first son, King Charles III. The overall opinion is, like English weather, overcast
and slightly misty. It seems that given his druthers, he would turn Buckingham
palace into a giant wind farm and organic flower nursery. To use the business
parlance, he has had the longest runway to prepare for the job, so perhaps he has
taken to heart some of the lessons about sacrifice and service, lessons notably
absent from his marriages. It’s tough to rally behind a man who dumped his
vivacious, stunningly beautiful, and immensely popular first wife for a mistress
(who was cheating on her own husband) whose every dour smile was an
advertisement for bad British dentistry.
While The Queen may not
have done the best job with heir number one, she certainly made sure that heir
number two wouldn’t make the same mistakes. As the story goes, William had
regular tea time with Granny while he was in secondary school at Eton—a few
minutes’ drive when Her Majesty spent the weekend at Windsor Castle. I’m sure
there was a little trepidation as William picked commoner Kate for his bride,
but she had a few more years in the real world to combat the late Diana’s
naivety. When you add a practiced smile that showed off the finest of British
dentistry and a brood of three adorable children, the “Firm’s” future looks
bright.
But what of the legacy for
me?
A few years after
graduating college (with a degree distinctly signed in autopen), I was
traveling in England and eventually met up with a fraternity brother for a weekend
in London. Walking along Whitehall, we were stopped by barricades in front of
the large, vaulted gate that leads to the Horse Guards Parade Grounds. Crowds had
assembled, and we thought that maybe there was some ceremonial parade about to
take place; if we were in luck, there would be a bonus of fully polished pomp
and circumstance. To our left applause broke out as three Rolls Royce custom limousines
slowly approached. One limo’s oversized glass windows gave us a clear view of a
small woman sitting with complete poise and gazing pleasantly, but impassively,
to those surrounding her. It was, of course, Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God,
of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other
Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith.
It may have been sheer
happenstance, but it was about as perfect a moment as possible. While merely a
microscopic legacy, those few seconds personified a near-flawlessly executed
seven-decade reign dedicated to serving her people and country.
Thank you, ma’am. God
save The King.
© 2022 Alexander W.
Stephens, All Rights Reserved
