The Queen and I

It’s time to roll out my credentials to justify why, oh why, with all the crazy and irritating* coverage of the royal Windsor wedding, I, too, MUST cover something royal.

*And, by irritating, I mean AWESOME.

I do.

It’s true.

So if royal mania makes you want to gag, go ahead and skip this one.  I promise to be back to my more common shenanigans tomorrow.

I mostly just wanted to type shenanigans, ’cause I’m about to talk about my grandmother, and that’s the kind of word that reminds me of her.

My grandmother was shenanigalicious.

Like the time at my wedding when my grandmother’s former husband (aka, my grandfather) walked into the church and she shouted across the sanctuary “OH GAWD!  He’s so FAT!  Don’t you think he got FAT?”  And my normally mild-mannered mother sat my grandmother’s royal behind down on a pew, put her finger in her face and told her she’d behave herself or else my mother would escort her hiney out of that church so fast she wouldn’t know what hit her.

Heh heh.

That wedding memory still makes me smile.

Anyway, back to my credentials (ahem. excuses.) for writing about the same blah-dee-blah-blah as everyone else on Royal Wedding Watch Day:

  1. My given name is Elizabeth.
  2. I have stationary that reads Queen Elizabeth.  See?It was a gift from a friend.  Probably because she thinks I’m a bossy-pants.  Thinks. Just thinks.
  3. My grandmother’s name was Elizabeth.  Well, actually, it was Betty June, but she always hated that, so when I was born and named something regal, she named herself after me.  We have a long family acquaintance with crazy.  Oh, wait!  That should be a credential.
  4. We have a long family acquaintance with crazy.
  5. My grandmother Elizabeth kept decades and decades worth of royal-watching scrapbooks which I rescued from the trash pile after she died.  And I still read them.  And I love them.

There you go.  Ironclad credentials.  I should have had a press pass to the wedding.  I’m sure that was just an oversight.  Hey, Wills and Kate are busy kids.  It’s OK; I understand.

(Psst… Invite me to the christening of your first child, and we’ll call it even.)

Here’s a little trip through Miss Betty’s scrapbooks, in case you’re so inclined.

In the 1930’s, Elizabeth was a child.

Which is a real coincidence because I was a child once, too.  We’re so alike, the Queen and I, what with all our ponies and carriages.

Before she was queen, of course, she was but a princess.

Importantly, though, she was a princess who spiked her kid’s hair.  Look at that pic above again.

Now look at this one.

See?  Just like me.

I told you so.

On June 2, 1953, my parents were 5 years old.  And 27-year-old Elizabeth was crowned.

Which must’ve been a real “yikes” moment for her.  Don’t you think?

And then her baby grew up.  And his hair fell onto his face.

Which must’ve been a real “yikes” moment for her.  Don’t you think?

Just one of those things a mother must bear, I suppose.

And then there’s all the scandal.  No, not just facial hair scandal.

And no, not the Mr. Peepers ad, either.  (FYI, that number is out of service.  Although I have no idea what I thought I was going to say if someone answered.  “Hello.  Is Mr. Peepers there?” just doesn’t feel quite right.)

Hooliganism.

Downright hooliganism, folks!

Scandalous, I tell you.

In fact, it might be easier to name the non-scandalous members of the royal family.  But it would be a lot more boring, too.

Hey!  There’s another thing Elizabeth and I have in common.  Abounding hooliganism in our families.  That, and shenanigans.

What Elizabeth and I lack in family propriety, though, we certainly make up in excitement.

Proudly carrying on the royal tradition,

Elizabeth, Queen of the Hooligans

 

P.S. I have more to say, but I’ll spare you.  Or I’ll comment on my own post.  One or the other.  (Probably the other.)

 

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ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
9 comments
  1. Just a few things that come to mind:

    * so funny, I was looking at the pictures of the young British Elizabeth and just now noticed how much Charles looks like his maternal grandmother!
    * we actually call Hein, our youngest one, ‘hooligan’ because he likes to tear apart, ehm, everything… and he even listens to us calling him so… royal or mental? 😉
    * if you get invited to the christening, can I come? I could take a train, so you wouldn’t even have to pick me up 😉

    Yeah, I know, loose ramblings, just thought I’d share them with you! 🙂

    ps: Abby’s right!

    1. I love that Hein is your hooligan, Carina. Every family needs one. In our family, it’s my brother, Jeff. Only in recent years have I tried to wrest the crown from his head. Of course, now that I’m raising my own pack of Hooligans (I’d say only 3 out of the 5 really qualify, though), I think I deserve the crown. 😉

  2. Hooliganism and shenanigans! Oh Beth, these are such awesome words! Living overseas there are just so many cool words that I don’t get to hear anymore and quite often forget about. These are just such fun words. I would teach them to my students but they’d never know how to use them.

    Those scrapbooks are treasures! Hang on to them, add to them! Do they include C&D as well? So fun. Abby could probably add yet another royal wedding couple about 30 years or so from now when Will & Kate’s prodigy tie the knot.

    You are the Best!

    1. Aw! Thanks, Holly!

      I hadn’t thought of adding to the scrapbooks. I kind of revere them, so I’d have to start my own, new ones. So far, my son, Cael, is much more impressed with the royal wedding than Abby was. Maybe Cael will start the new royal scrapbooks for me… right after he paints our house “pink and purple with flowers all over it,” which is on his To Do list. He also wears pink hats. And purple Crocs. And says I’m beautiful. If he starts making me royal scrapbooks, I’m just going to throw in the towel and call him my favorite. 😀

  3. Hey Beth!
    This reminded me that I have an Aunt Hoolie who is called that because they called her a hooligan when she was little. It’s a dead serious nickname. I double take when people who don’t know her well call her LaVonn. Has nothing to do with your post, but wanted to share.

    1. We have “aunties” in our fam. They’re the crazy, drinking ones. I’m going to be an auntie when I grow up. Maybe I can convince people to call me Aunt Hoolie. It’s a good name.

  4. Oh, I giggled my way through this entire post. Glad I’m not the only one who’ a little crazy for the royals today. Maybe it’s just plain crazy, royals or not…

    🙂

    1. Royally crazy. I can be in that club!

  5. P.P.S. I realize that by not covering today’s actual royal wedding, I may be a disappointment. So, I’ll tell you this:

    I’m watching it. Right now. I, in fact, took vacation time to stay home and watch morning coverage. Because I’m a freak.

    And, as if that’s not bad enough, I allowed Abby, who’s 12, to stay home to watch it with me. Which resulted in this conversation with her…

    Abby: Seriously, Mom? I get to stay home to watch the wedding? You’re the BEST!

    Me: Oh, Abby. Letting you stay home to watch the wedding doesn’t make me a good mom. In fact, it probably makes me a bad mom. There are hundreds of thousands of good moms out there, making their kids go to school right this minute.

    Abby: I think you misunderstood. I didn’t say you were a good mom. I said you’re the BEST!

    What can I say? I was swayed by my own fond memories of a late-night viewing of Charles’ and Diana’s wedding, and I used my grandmother’s scrapbooks as justification.

    Surely, I have no business letting down a long and glorious family tradition. Besides, this may be the last time for years that I’m the BEST, so I’ll take it.

    Beth

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