Weekend Process Notes, September 13, 2022
Imperialism Lives in the Heart of the Subjects: Death of the Queen
My heart dropped when I saw the royal family arriving at Balmoral, something was wrong with the Queen. Word of her “serious condition” flashed on the screen, along with a shot of an airplane — with no indication of exactly who had arrived.
I left the news and went to my desk, I had meetings scheduled, my mind went elsewhere.
An hour or maybe it was two went by, I was between meetings when my husband appeared. “The Queen has died,” he said quietly. He knew whatever I said or tried to avoid saying — he knew before I did, my heart would be broken. I watched Elizabeth’s coronation, it was on our first TV.
I’ve spent days lying in bed, watching the mourning in England. Watching the death of our Queen Elizabeth, her Majesty has died., we all need to say it over and over. Did we believe she’d live forever?
When i was very young my mother taught me to curtsey, in case I should meet the Queen. Did I make this up? Did this really happen?
My parents were Canadian. And so the Queen was our Queen. I grew up with the Queen. My parents became American citizens, but they were always Canadian. The Queen was always our Queen, my Queen.
Imperialism lives in the heart of the subjects.
We know the damage it’s done around the world, we know the poverty of so many subjects in so many countries. I certainly have opinions about the flagrant display of wealth we see in the Royal family.
There is something wrong with a monarchy, the whole idea of a leader derived from heredity has got to go wrong at some point. Like right now, it’s gone wrong right now.
I think England has reached that moment. “Charles III” is arrogant. People noticed his rudeness to his “servants,” ordering them about. William and his wife Catherine, the Prince and Princess of Wales. Really? Stuffy, insufferably stuffy.
Our Queen has died, but “god save the King” is not how I feel. Perhaps my feelings will change. Feelings are like clouds, they drift across the landscape, and quickly they’re gone, or they’ve changed or transformed from one thing to something else. Like a life, it drifts across the landscape, and in only a moment, it’s gone.
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