I heard a lovely story about Prince Philip, who died Friday at age 99. You can say what you like about the pros and cons of hereditary monarchy as an institution, and there are plenty of instances of Philip on tape without his verbal filter in place. But the guy was married to Elizabeth II for more than 70 years, gave up his naval career early on, and showed up on time and hit his marks for royal appearances right up until he crashed his Range Rover a few years ago.
Anyway, here’s the story: in November, 1963, Philip flew to
Washington, D.C., to attend the funeral of President John F. Kennedy. On he day
before the funeral, Jackie was looking for John-John, who at not-quite-three,
had been bewildered and frightened by all the goings-on. She opened the door to
his playroom and found Philip down on the floor, playing with the little boy,
and laughing. The Duke of Edinburgh would have been about 42 at the time.
Two years later, when a memorial to JFK was dedicated at
Runnymede, England, John-John walked between Jackie and the Duke, holding their
hands.
The notion of a 40-something prince-consort taking time to play with a bereft child, and making him laugh, really lightens my heart, especially after the week we’ve had, newswise. And I’m grateful for that image of the man and boy being happy together in a deeply sorrowful time.
My friend MLD tolled the tenor 99 times (really the Ellacombe Chimes because COVID and a hand-flapping vicar) for the Duke at noon on Saturday at Holy Trinity Church in Maidenhead, which is just down the road from Windsor. Here’s a clip of that.
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