The Egg

       No one really knew Ellie well.  She was an artist…and quite eccentric.  When anyone asked her brother Nick, he always kind of smiled in a wistful way and explained that Ellie was simply Ellie.  Whatever that meant!  She had lived abroad for years studying, living, and breathing art in Florence, Paris, and finally London before coming home to the states with a broken heart in the early ‘80’s.  She never really said much about the love affair that sent her home to lick her wounds and Nick never asked.  He figured she would tell all when she was ready.  Since then she had withdrew into herself, selling her exquisite paintings and managing a top gallery in New York.   Nick’s family knew her simply as Aunt Ellie.  Those that worked with her thought she was a genius, but odd.  Nick’s children thought her weird, but fun in a way.  She felt awkward around them, and even though they visited her on occasion and invited her for holiday celebrations she rarely came.  Nick worried about her being so alone, but she assured him she was fine.

    Several months ago, Ellie had notified Nick that she had terminal cancer and the end was near.  In complete shock when she died a week later, Nick had taken her death particularly hard.  How could she not have told him?  How could she have not shared what little time she had left with him?  Surely she had known for a while.  Why had she chosen to suffer alone?    He should have gone to her.  He should have forced her to celebrate holidays with him and his family.  He should have made more time for her.  What he should have done was entirely beyond the point now.  She was gone.   He wasn’t surprised when he was notified by a law firm that he was in charge of settling up her estate.  What did shock him was that his sister had been an extremely wealthy woman and according to the attorney, her wealth and all her worldly possessions, barring a hefty sum she wanted donated to the Princes Trust were now his to do with as he pleased.

       He sat in her brownstone now sifting through boxes of correspondence growing more amazed as he read.  There were letters from the Prince of Wales dating back to the early 1970’s, very affectionate letters.  He found photos taken during that time period of Ellie snuggling up with Prince Charles near the easels where their artwork waited for them to commence with their painting.  His sister was intimate with the Prince of Wales?  He felt the room spin, as he read letters which indicated a brief affair and then the lifelong friendship which resulted.  Then he found Christmas cards from various members of the Royal family, and even a personal note from Diana, the Princess of Wales herself.  Even more recent, a card from just last Christmas!  She had never said a word...and he had never thought to ask!

        He went through her personal effects finally realizing why his sister never married, and why she had valued her privacy so much.  She had been in love with the Prince of Wales.  The Prince of Wales!!   While she adored him, she had no desire for the lifestyle he led.  She never wanted any fame; she only wanted to be left alone to create her art…which is what she did.  The Prince, busy with his naval career at the time had understood and had seen her for the gem she was and had obviously been friends with her till her untimely death.  In a back closet he found a box that had been shipped straight from London shortly after she had returned to the states.  Inside was a beautiful solid gold Faberge Egg, an Easter gift from the Prince.

         Nick had no idea the worth of such an item but when he tried to take it to a dealer found that the Prince’s small gift was now worth an estimated 20 million pounds.  Not only did he discover secrets about his sister that he never knew but also a treasure trove among her possessions, trinkets from a long ago love affair and friendship with a prince.  With her death he discovered a side of her he never knew.  Leave it to Ellie to have kept such an extraordinary secret.

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Q is for Queen

      Can you imagine being born knowing one day you will be queen?  Once you were old enough to contemplate such an enormous proposition, wouldn’t that be just a little cool? The queen who is currently occupying the throne wasn’t born to be Queen.  If her uncle hadn’t abdicated, she would have lived a very different life.  Granted she would have still been very privileged and had plenty of money, but she would have never had the responsibility of the whole monarchy that she ended up with.  Your life and business would never be totally your own but just THINK about the perks involved!!  The good would definitely outweigh the bad.

      For a person like me that has been used to fading into the woodwork, being thrust into the limelight of a very public stage from birth would be terrifying.  I hate it when people stare at me!   On the other had, how bad could it possibly be to always be dressed in beautiful clothes, adorned with gorgeous jewels, and have everyone nodding and bobbing to your every whim?  I think I could get used to that!!  Set me up with a few castles, horses, and an array of pretty hats that no one would dare say I looked like $hit in!  No worries about bills.  What other job could a person have that would allow you to travel the world in splendor plus be cheered and handed countless gorgeous flowers when you arrive?   

       A big problem with being Queen would be that you couldn’t turn off your celebrity when you were tired of it.  You would be stuck with it.  I only can imagine when you are simply trying to find a bathroom to take a royal pee you wouldn’t care for the long lens of the paparazzi joining you.  At that point a queen would feel the need to tell the press to f*** off.  It simply wouldn’t be done though, and even though you were queen you wouldn’t dare.  No more mooning random strangers, or flipping off idiots that don’t know how to drive and have their heads up their a$$.  There would be too many people around ready to hold your door, open your drapes in the morning, see to your every care, and make certain you towed the line.  There would also be entirely too many people about to document the moment every time you screwed up.

         Although riding about in the glass coach and giving the queen’s wave on occasion might be fun at first, eventually being under publicity’s unyielding glare and a constant microscope would get old.  I mean, when would you ever find a moment to satisfy that itch on your butt?  Honestly, I don’t think I have it in me to be that dignified for that long.  You know I would end up in a case of uncontrollable giggles before all was said and done!  The first time one of those guards in the bearskin hats at Buckingham Palace farted, I would be lost to hilarity. 

          I was one of those folks that were up with the chickens to see the televised live coverage of several royal weddings first hand.  It still amuses me that the only thing the commentators could say the whole time was that inside the palace the Queen is busy putting on her hat.  This commentary went on for hours and they were always talking about her hat!!  In my mind, the Queen was probably not amused at the ignorance of the commentators.  Why in G0d’s holy name would she take that long to put on a bloody hat, and wouldn’t she wait until seconds before running out the door to put it on?  Think about it!!  I have enormous respect for the Queen of England. She has done a remarkable job over her reign.  This year the Queen celebrates 60 years of service to her country on the throne with a Diamond Jubilee.  G0d Bless her, and G0d save the Queen until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.