The Royal Wedding—A Little Girl’s Perspective
by Olivia Rossi
I watched the Royal Wedding—not live but later. She is a lovely young woman. He is a real Prince. I was born in England. I left when I was eight. When I was five, Princess Margaret, Queen Elizabeth’s younger sister, came to my neighborhood to dedicate a church. She was beautiful. I waved my little Union Jack flag and felt happy that I had seen a princess.
As a little girl, I remember going to London—not to visit the Queen—but I did visit Buckingham Palace with my mom and dad. I remember trying to make one of the Queen’s Guard sentries laugh. It didn’t work. He stood there in his tall, black “fuzzy” hat, all stiff and serious in his little sentry box. No sense of humor at all.
One of my favorite books back then was called Dick Whittington. I still have it. Dick Whittington became Lord Mayor of London Town and, when he was married, he and his bride were driven through London in their horse drawn carriage—just like Kate and William were on their wedding day.
Tradition. Ties to the past. Kate was simply beautiful. I felt a flood of English heritage in my heart. Prince Charles, William’s father, and I, are the same age. My mother and Queen Elizabeth were expecting us at the same time. We were both born in 1949. That’s our only connection—but today, it was just a wee bit closer as I watched the British monarchy take a step forward—Kate and William—a step toward the future—a foothold in the past.
God bless them both.