The King's Death

By now everyone in the Western world has heard of the movie “The King’s Speech.”   Yesterday was Queen Elizabeth of Great Britain’s 85 birthday, and in a week her grandson and flag bearer for the royalty will get married in Westminster Abbey.

Helen Mirran got an Oscar for playing royalty in the movie “The Queen.”  Colin Firth scored by playing the Queen’s father.

Growing up in Sliver Lake we didn’t have kings and queens.  We had cheerleaders who got pregnant and football stars that ended up working at Albertson’s.

The closest I got to “royalty” was when my grandmother went on a cruise with Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward.  “Their children were very well-behaved,” she told us.

So when I arrived in Sweden for graduate school, not knowing a single person in the nation, I found myself in a monarchy for the very first time.  There were royal residences guarded by Swedish soldiers with shoulder length hair.  And names that I needed to learn.

The king’s name was Gustaf VI Adolf of Sweden.  He was old and beloved.  And he had an interesting history.  His first marriage was held at Windsor Castle and his second marriage was at St. James Palace in London.  These were the days of the royal in breeding. His second wife was the aunt of the present British Queen’s husband, The Duke of Edinburgh.

His son, who may or may not have been sympathetic to the Nazi cause, was killed in a plane crash in 1947.  The King’s grandson, Carl XVI Gustaf became the heir apparent. 

Carl Gustaf met his future wife Sylvia at the memorable 1972 Olympics held in Munich and marred by the deaths of the Israeli wresters.  They fell in love and married.  Their progeny are the next generation of royals.

On September 15^th, 1973, shortly after my arrival at Valhallavagen Fem, the King passed away due to pneumonia. He was 90 years old and his grandson was a young man with a very new and non-Swedish bride.

The power of royalty made itself known to me at that time.  I stood on the street, amongst the mourning Swedes and watched as the funeral procession passed by. 

I had been a bit taken aback at the unrestrained patriotism of Stockholm’s main department store.  EVERYTHING including underwear could be found in yellow and blue with crowns.  Coming from America where we were the scourge of the world because of the Vietnam War and a President like Nixon, it seemed odd to see such unbridled patriotism and confidence in the government.

 Sweden is one of the most egalitarian places I have lived.  But more on that later.