Grounded.

All eyes were on Queen Elizabeth II, as she stepped off the train, placed her purse over her arm, and ventured out into the crowd.  The next five minutes provided me with a memory that remains epic.

The place was Calgary, Alberta and it was 1959.  I had just turned 9 and had spent my early years in Scotland.  My mother was a Scottish war bride, living in Edinburgh, and when my father returned wounded from the conflict to Canada, it wasn’t destined to be an easy time.

Our family owned a little grocery store just a couple of blocks from Mewata Armouries – a military institution that played a well-known part in Calgary history.  When we learned that Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip were coming for the Calgary Stampede, excitement was everywhere.  At the last minute, it was announced that the royal couple would be getting off the train at the Armouries, greeting the crowds, and then proceeding into the building for a tour.  We were among the first to arrive, waiting for the train approaching from downtown.  I recall the sudden panic spreading among the organizers as they realized that the bunting put out as official decorations for the stop had been placed upside down.  It was blue, white and red from the top-down instead of the opposite.  They corrected the oversight just as the train pulled to a stop, as a great relief settled over the crowd.

It should be explained that I was a nine-year old, somewhat out-of-sorts.  My father had been badly wounded and suffered ongoing bouts of pleurisy.  My mother had experienced great difficulty settling in to Canada and was constantly homesick.  Me?  I just felt that I didn’t fit in anywhere and was painfully shy as a result.  The Royal family had been part and parcel of my early years and some of my first memories as a child were of them residing in Balmoral Castle in Scotland for the summer.  I never saw them, but just the knowledge that they were close by was comforting.

For Britain in general, the royal dynasty, with its newly-crowned Queen Elizabeth, represented some hope following all the heavy losses of World War Two.  No day went by in my young life in Edinburgh without talk of any news regarding the activities of Buckingham Palace.  To my parents and grandparents, they represented stability in changing and troubled times and I came to view them the same way.

When the Queen came down the short step from the train and proceeded to the line of people, she walked immediately to where I stood with my parents and shook our hands.  She commented on the colour of my eyes and showed a flash of curiosity at my heavy Scottish brogue.  I said something that I can’t recall now and she politely moved on.  I recall looking up at mother and seeing the tears freely flooding down her cheeks. For her, in that moment, Scotland seemed so terribly far away.

It was only then that I noticed Prince Philip standing in front of me, his hands together, and looking down from his lofty height with interest.  Then he reached out to shake mother’s hand in understanding of her pain.  My father was in his military uniform, pulled out of mothballs for the occasion, and I watched as the two men briefly discussed where my father served during the war.  And then, the Queen’s Consort was gone, gracefully catching up to his wife.

I thought of that wonderful memory yesterday after I heard the news of Prince Philip’s passing.  Memories flooded to the royal couple, my parents, the adoring crowd.  But then I recalled the kind of confused, perhaps even distressed, state I was in at the time.  It was an insecurity destined to remain with me for the rest of my life.  

Yet it was that moment of seeing Philip move in to speak to my parents that had given me a sense of … what?  I realized yesterday that it was grounding.  They had been the rock that had not only held Britain together, but had given me a sense of security.  Scotland had been my home and the Royals had captured my fascination.  Now they had come to Canada and reminded me that they were still on duty, moving around and assuring people that we would come out of the post-war years as surely as the sun would rise.

I think it likely that what I’m attempting to describe here is something that millions of people have felt towards the Queen and Prince Philip for decades.  Despite all the negative reviews and the scandals of the Palace, these two held the Commonwealth together in times of uncertainty.  Their faithfulness to duty remains an example and a rock to many of us.

I recall shaking the Queen’s hand that day, but it was Philip’s attention to my parents that I remember and revere to this very day.  His passing felt like something of a Rite of Passage to me and his death is painful.  But that memory, in what was a confused little boy’s mind, is mine to keep and treasure for whatever time I have left.  It’s not difficult; I’ve already been holding on to it for six decades.  Yes, Philip was curious, quirky and surely flawed, but he was and remains a giant to an entire generation that had to rebuild the world following a costly conflict.  Go with God, great Prince, as you continue to explore.   And the sincerest of condolences, remarkable Queen, as you remain in service.