This post is about the Royal family.
I understand that the Royals, or maybe just some people's (*jabbing top of own head with index finger*) fascination with the haughty family often incites indifference, even anger. If you're one of those people, I suggest you leave now. Go Google something. Or see if there have been any Facebook updates in the last 3.5 minutes. Any of your buddies kids sick? Anyone tired because the wind howled all night and kept them awake? Someone find a lost kitty in I-need-a-life-ville? How many are complaining about the already-crowded malls and shoppers lack of Christmas spirit?
Wow...TANGENT!
Where were we? Oh right. ROYALS. So the news of the engagement between William and Kate hit the world a couple of weeks ago, and most people here in Canada responded with a collective "who CARES."
When my co-worker read me her People magazine, I tried my best to feign disinterest, said something like "oh, yeah? Cool," and kept typing. As soon as she headed for (the last brownie in) the vending machine, I ran (ok, walked quickly) to her desk and read the entire story.
What I'm about to say may disgust some of you. I like to think I'm a level headed, smart person. I know the Royal family are basically figure heads, and most Canadians don't give a rat's ass about the Charles/Camilla debacle or who Willy's marrying.
But I'm not most Canadians.
I have Royal Fever.
This fascination isn't entirely my fault. My Royal Fever was passed on by a mother who herself was struck by this condition. My mom, specifically, had Diana Fever.
This is going to sound super silly, but to me, there always seemed to be a little magic around both of those ladies (my mom and Diana.)
My mom always joked that the Princess' life mirrored hers. Although we all made fun, you can't really deny the similarities.
Diana grew up in a wealthy family in England, later moving to London to marry her prince. My mummy grew up in rural Southern Ontario, later moving North to marry her prince. (Sound like a stretch? That's cause it is.)
My parents were married in August, 1980. Diana and Charles were married in July 1981. As my mom watched the lavish ceremony on TV, my Grandma dismissively remarked "it's no nicer than yours was." She was 100 percent serious.
In June, 1982, Diana had her first baby, William. Eight months later, my mama was graced with my presence.
In September 1984, Diana had Harry. Almost a year later, my mom had Gilly.
Through Diana's life, my mom remained a devoted watcher. She cheered when the Princess danced with John Travolta. Called Charles and Camilla names when their affair hit the media (I remember "Horseface" in particular.)
In August, 1997, we were at the cottage when a news bulletin broke through Saturday Night Live, saying Diana had died in a car crash. I remember my mom being shocked, then sad.
"We have to watch the funeral," she said, eyes glued to the television.
"But it's on at 4 a.m. here," I whined.
"So we'll sleep on the pull out couch and set the alarm."
And we did. I remember the princes walking behind the casket, looking heartbroken. Diana's brother giving the eulogy about the "Queen of People's Hearts." Elton John's tribute. A Royal funeral with a twist.
Six months later, the pattern followed in an unexpected and tragic way. When my mom died, I remember thinking of Prince William. How I could now relate to him. Understood how he felt. This may sound beyond crazy to you non-Royal-lovers, but I thought "I wonder if they have met yet."
On a class trip to Paris a couple of years later, we drove through the tunnel where Diana was killed. As most students glanced out the window briefly, I was transfixed. I felt a connection, brought on by years of Royal Fever.
The recent announcement brought back these memories. Making fun of my mom for her Diana obsession. Laughing at her crazy parallel life theory (I do realize it's really not that parallel.) Lying on the pull-out couch at 4 a.m., secretly happy for the alone time with my mummy.
I heard on the radio that William gave Kate his mom's engagement ring so she could "be part of the excitement." Although our lives are worlds apart, I get it. And although, for the most part, I don't identify with any part of Royal life, my heart warmed when I heard that newscast.
See, the Royal Fever's hard to shake. Along with the memories of my mama. So go ahead and make fun of me for my silly Royal interest.
Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. And I wouldn't want it any other way.
