As
we approach the 20th 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.
by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright Pending
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