I'm sorry folks... I'm with most of the rest of the world. I have a
soft spot for Prince Harry, and if he felt like walking about naked for a year
in protest of bad alcohol and promoting the rights of prostitutes... I'd
probably be right behind him. Especially with that bod on him.
It's got me thinking though -what IS it about Harry that makes him
so loveable? Why does he get away with things, in the media, that would crucify
any other celebrity -for Life? It's not just the Public adoring Harry -it's the
media too! And that's some achievement indeed, when the vultures are
incessantly sniffing around for their next victim, and their prayers resemble
this: "Please let Beckham cheat, please let Beckham cheat, please, please,
please…"
Funny thing is, Harry's never played up to the media, or anyone
else. He's simply lived his life, as himself, and damned the rest. And indeed,
any attempt to turn his antics into scandals have subscribed to the saying
"Publish and be damned!" They've been published, and been damned, and
Harry's walked away, his image untarnished.
Perhaps it is the typical prerogative of a 'second son', the
English familial tradition. The first son is meant to be exactly what William
is -sober, responsible, well-spoken, soberly and responsibly well-spoken; and
if he's really tops, he'll take care to be tall and handsome too.
The second son is Harry to the 'T'. With all of the cares laid upon
the shoulders of his older brother, he is free and able to live 'normally'
-even happily- enough for both of them. If there are any of the following to be
done, he is entitled to pursue them to the full: the drinking, the falling off
of horses, the failing at school, the chasing of skirts, the breaking of
hearts, the acting in movies, the modelling, the sky-diving and other stunts…
all of these and more activities are open to him -so long as he return home
safe and sound, which Harry has always done.
I think of Harry as a perfectly healthy young man, and if I
wouldn't call him handsome, I do find beauty in his face, an air and flush of
Diana, which is somehow deeply touching, and endearing. I'm persuaded that when
he's done with all the high jinks, the sowing of seed, the army and the
adrenaline, this young prince will make the most loving and devoted husband and
father, to one of luckiest girls in the world. I wish him well with all my
heart.
The hiccup with Harry's story arrived like a bombshell, the other
day, when my sister casually mentioned that he may not be Prince Charles
natural son. "What do you mean?" I asked her, thinking I'd misheard.
It was her turn to look shocked. "You read everything," she marveled,
" did you never read Princess Diana's autobiography?" No, I hadn't.
And I haven't. And I may never.
I'm afraid I wasn't a great fan of Princess Diana's, and even less
one of Prince Charles'. She was a young frustrated girl, thrust into a world
she had no idea would consume her. She wasn't mature enough to take all of the
disappointments in stride, and didn't have the cold upper lip of royalty to
behave as though she accept them. She resisted them publicly, loudly,
petulantly. Like the best people, however, she somehow found in herself the
strength and power to give of herself to others, even during her darkest hours.
She had little else to give, so she gave her time, her attention, her kindness
-and became the Queen of Hearts. She was a loving person, and all she ever
wanted to be loved in return. And she was, more than she ever imagined.
Funny thing is, Harry's never played up to the media, or anyone
else. He's simply lived his life, as himself, and damned the rest. And indeed,
any attempt to turn his antics into scandals have subscribed to the saying
"Publish and be damned!" They've been published, and been damned, and
Harry's walked away, his image untarnished.
Perhaps it is the typical prerogative of a 'second son', the
English familial tradition. The first son is meant to be exactly what William
is -sober, responsible, well-spoken, soberly and responsibly well-spoken; and
if he's really tops, he'll take care to be tall and handsome too.
The second son is Harry to the 'T'. With all of the cares laid upon
the shoulders of his older brother, he is free and able to live 'normally'
-even happily- enough for both of them. If there are any of the following to be
done, he is entitled to pursue them to the full: the drinking, the falling off
of horses, the failing at school, the chasing of skirts, the breaking of
hearts, the acting in movies, the modelling, the sky-diving and other stunts…
all of these and more activities are open to him -so long as he return home
safe and sound, which Harry has always done.
I think of Harry as a perfectly healthy young man, and if I
wouldn't call him handsome, I do find beauty in his face, an air and flush of
Diana, which is somehow deeply touching, and endearing. I'm persuaded that when
he's done with all the high jinks, the sowing of seed, the army and the
adrenaline, this young prince will make the most loving and devoted husband and
father, to one of luckiest girls in the world. I wish him well with all my
heart.
The hiccup with Harry's story arrived like a bombshell, the other
day, when my sister casually mentioned that he may not be Prince Charles
natural son. "What do you mean?" I asked her, thinking I'd misheard.
It was her turn to look shocked. "You read everything," she marveled,
" did you never read Princess Diana's autobiography?" No, I hadn't.
And I haven't. And I may never.
Apparently, when Harry was born, Prince Charles was nowhere to be
seen. Harry was no son of his, is what his behaviour stated, and in light of
those indiscretions Princess Diana had begun becoming guilty of, this might be
nothing but the truth. Certainly nothing out of character for the English royal
history, which, like many others in Europe, is full of 'bastards' and
'usurpers' to the throne. More certain however, is that Harry looks nothing
like William, and nothing at all like Prince Charles, excepting that they are
are regally tall men. Like Khloe Kardashian, is a soupçon of illegitimacy
gnawing at our Prince's heart? Is it perhaps more serious than anyone might
think? For Khloe, adversity has brought inward strength, integrity of
character, brute force honesty, and staunch loyalty to herself, to family, and
to all of those whom she loves. Is it doing the same for Prince Harry? I
believe so, even if this disturbing feeling might drive him to go faster and
further, dive deeper, and party harder. When he settles, he will be the
strongest of men, with the best of characters, and there really isn't anything
more one could wish out of Life's battering journey...
Whatever the case may be, Prince Harry is one I would applaud for
living a Life In Pursuit of Happiness, and many times he has found it. I wish
for him that he may continue to do so.
Here's to all of us determined Pursuers!
I have to admit that it’s true what they say: “Wisdom comes with Age.” If not all, then at least some of it –the most important parts of it, perhaps. When I think of the things I fervently believed as a teen, it’s CRINGE-making. Even some of the things I believed just a decade ago are supremely embarrassing to me now, and I feel glad, so glad that I’ve reached the perfect place, in my early 30s, where I can laugh at latter-year absurdities in behaviour, and gained the open-mindedness, tolerance, patience and necessary senses of responsibility and humour that enable me to do better, every day. Because I’ve grown.
Whether this is normal or not, I don’t know, but I can actually feel my growth. Some mysterious short time ago, I began to make better decisions, to see the world a little differently and most importantly, to see my circumstances differently. Suddenly, everything lost that edge, and became fuzzier –and funnier. Perhaps even a little friendlier. They certainly stopped being so cut-and-dried. I’ve always been sensitive, but somehow, other people’s feelings and perceptions are clearer to me. I am less quick to judge –I am even capable of not judging. I used to be Queen Solomona –without the wisdom of ever considering the suggestion of splitting the baby. Somewhere along the way, black and white issues swirled together into grey; yet I know precisely where I stand.
It’s amazing. It’s refreshing, and oh, I can’t TELL you HOW relaxing. Suddenly, the off-cuff advice not to take life “so seriously” isn’t just something losers and drunkards say –it works! I’m still not sure what ‘choosing to be happy’ means, as I’m still pretty sure you can only be as happy as your circumstances allow you to be, and if I were homeless, friendless and cold, I would not consider it some kind of blessing... but I AM sure that ‘doing the right thing’ in every situation possible, though a tougher way to live, is the very best way to live. I know the joy of doing something selflessly, and it’s pretty awesome.
And another saying that’s true? “Aprés la pluie, le beau temps!” After the rain (read pain) the sun’ll come out –even if it isn’t going to happen tomorrow. I’ll even believe that ‘Life begins at 40’... and don’t the more evil ones of you say that I kind of have to!
Yet, quite independently, I can hide the Bible away and lust... erm... I mean, enjoy indulging, visually, in a bit of nugget. Olympian, Hollywoodian or otherwise. A small, hopefully harmless guilty pleasure –like a large glass of perfectly chilled, crisp white wine on a hot summer afternoon... or a rich dessert.
In “The Sound of Music”, young Liesl couldn’t believe it when Maria assured her that she would meet “Someone older and wiser....” I’ve agreed with Liesl most of my life, but not any more. Not for a good long while. I believe instead that, like Maria, some day soon, Someone will be “standing there loving me,” whether or not he should, and I’ll think: “Somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good!”
The problem is... Bart may be the standard against whom I base every other of my relationships. In which case, I really should get rid of him as soon as possible, given my Disdainful Eye and other critical afflictions. Perhaps without Bart’s beautiful hazel eyes to gaze into (and I should mention they’re the extreme of warm and loving) I might be able to lower my standards some, and link my life to a short, weak-chinned dullard who has never left the village I met him in, during a passing visit. Even worse, I might begin to take a shine to creatures such as Roosh (the very name, my friends, should be a RED FLAGGED LIGHTHOUSE.)
Still, in a society of short, fat people, I wouldn’t mind our family being the exception. If I chose correctly, I can have a nice, tall husband with all of his teeth in the right place, which means that our kids will too. Screw ‘normal’. The day a TV couple is portrayed with the beautiful woman leaning lovingly down to kiss her Prince is not one I’m looking forward to.
