FLOWERS FOR MY COUSIN, PRINCESS DIANA. Pts. 1-3

As we approach the 20^th anniversary of Princess Diana’s passing, HBO and ABC are airing documentaries in her memory.

And as is the custom, the networks are in the process of providing the viewing public an entre into these documentaries, and recalling Princess Di’s life in general.

There are those random events during the course of our lives when momentous events occur, most often involving the death of a notable person, which none of us have the capacity to forget, nor where we were when we heard the news.

I was 14 when President Kennedy was assassinated. Just by happenstance, it was the only school day I missed all year, and as I was watching TV, Walter Cronkite cut into the regular programing. And subsequently, the murders of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy. Who can ever forget where they were when they became aware of the Challenger and Columbia disasters?

I have never been a great fan of the royal family for at least two reasons. I mean, in the case of all royal families someone, somewhere took it on themselves to declare themselves royal. And I am all too aware that everyone in the bunch puts their pants on the same way I do, and that they “succumb to the contingencies of nature,” (eating, sleeping & bath-rooming) very much like the rest of us.

And while I am certainly not perfect, or “holier than thou” I have been just short of mortified with the behaviors of the so-called royal family members.

Their numerous extra-marital affairs, the topless escapade of another, the almost decade long cohabitive relationship between the second heir to the throne and the woman to whom he finally pledged his trough.

All in all, the lives which the “Royals” have lived, past and present, have been anything but royal in nature, and, needless to say, they have presented themselves to be extremely poor role models to the rest of us.

It just seems as if folks who take on themselves the mantle of his and her highnesses ought to exude the sort of life and mannerisms which befit the bestowal of such titles.

Pt. 2

However, in spite of everything I have previously written, I admit to a certain bias towards Diana.

I mean, there was just something extraordinarily regretful about her seemingly premature passing. And I must say my admitted preference for the lady goes well beyond the obvious. For you see, Diana was, (and Princes William and Harry are) my distant relatives. (Yes, they are). For you see, I am related not only to them, but also to the late Prime Minister Winston Churchill through the Spencer lineage. (Granted, none of the afore said parties have ever invited me to Buckingham Palace or #10 Downing Street for tea).

Diana “joined the team” as the result of what basically consisted of an arranged marriage accompanied by the strict (and hypocritical) insistence that she be virginal; whereas, her suitor was far from it, and even during their courtship he was entertaining communication with a divorced woman; (who, subsequently, replaced the first).

Who can forget her (supposed) knight in shining armor (or armour) and her Cinderella promotion from nanny to nobility? Who can forget her fairytale wedding; with all that royal pomp and circumstance?

However, to revisit the notion of the upcoming documentaries and the press coverage which precedes them, Princes William and Harry have recently come out with the most candid reminiscences concerning their memories of their mother.

They have both expressed regrets that they hurried their ‘mum’ along when they received her last phone call from France. They had been playing with their friends at the time, and wanted to get back to their fun and games. Will and Harry could not have known it would be their last opportunity to talk to her in this life.

As the preview continued, they went on to speak of Diana’s tendency to encourage them to be a ‘bit naughty;’ whereas, Prince Charles was prone to be curt and rigid in his demeanor.

Who can forget the video segments which portrayed the princess riding a carousel or roller coaster with her wee ones; with all the accompanying smiles and laughter that naturally went with along with it?

She was just plain fun to be with. And they loved her for it.

Pt. 3

Who will ever forget the outpouring of grief which accompanied her premature passing? Such tears as the English rarely, if ever, exhibited in the life of their staid nation. The sole untarnished member of the Britain’s First Family, initially refusing to lower Buckingham’s flag, and a virtual “Johnny Come Lately” in terms of her presence. The slow and stately mourner’s march. Diana’s young sons walking behind her caisson. Flowers and tears. Tears and flowers.

My cousin Diana was no saint. No one ever said she was. I mean, she was involved in an extra-marital affair, as was her husband before her. (At least, I like to think this was the order of things). And she flaunted her moral (or immoral) freedom to do what she jolly well wanted to do with whom she jolly well wanted to do it. Of course, in terms of her final tryst, we are all too aware of “the rest of the story.”

No one could deny, however, that she was a humanitarian. She visited wounded soldiers in the hospital, (or in hospital, as the English are prone to say). She participated in the clearing of landmines in exotic countries. She rubbed shoulders with AIDS patients, and raised money for countless charities. She was, as one of my army buddies used to say, “A decent person.”

But for all her decency, Princess Di was a flawed individual, and I am convinced that the burdensome trappings of so-called royalty tipped the scale in favor of her rather inconsistent demeanor; resulting in some rather poor decisions.

But in spite of it all, I believe my distant cousin was innately good at heart, that she loved her children, and that she will be remembered, with fondness, for a very long time.


William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Vol. 62. Copyright Pending.

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