A Touch of Royalty

My daddy lifted me on his shoulders when the shiny limousine passed by. The crowd cheered wildly at the sight of Princess Margaret, smiling and waving from the open car, and I got a fleeting glimpse of royalty.

We had waited most of a month for this grand event and it was over in a matter of seconds. The procession passed and was gone but I remember high stepping horses and soldiers in bright, regal colors. There were flags of all sizes, horse drawn carriages, military guards and a column of canons. Muskets were fired leaving white plumes of smoke in the air, swords flashed in the sunlight, the color guard saluted smartly. Men in top hats and tails marched by, then a line of women dressed in gingham and white bonnets and crisply starched aprons, each with a basket of wildflowers on her arm. The finale was a marching band in full dress uniform - horns glimmering in the sunlight, clarinets and saxaphones and snare drums all in step and playing a a tightly choreographed "God Save the Queen". It was a magical and dazzling morning, and after the parade passed there was an even more extravagant treat - hamburgers and ice cream sodas at the village's only pharmacy/lunch counter, just my daddy, my Aunt Ivy, and myself.

These were the youngest of my grandmother's children, the last boy and the last girl. They looked very much alike, both young and vibrant, darkhaired and slim, and at least on that day, all smiles. Ivy had left home and found a job and a small apartment. She loved her family but treasured her independence and her privacy and I very much wanted to be like her - on her own and beholden to no one - she had never married and was what my mother called with disgust, a career woman. Whether marriage and children simply didn't appeal to her or she had just never found the love of her life I never knew - she died very young and maybe just didnt have enough time. I have very few memories of her but the ones I do have are vivid. She was pretty, hard working, she laughed a lot and loved Marty Robbins and she always looked like a young professional. We left the little lunch counter and walked to Ivy's car for the drive back to the farm, tired and happy and with a grand story to tell.