Are You Watching the Pageantry?

When I was a child, breaking news could ruin a Saturday morning. The Superfriends or Smurfs would suddenly be supplanted by a Very Serious News Face telling my parents about a Serious Tragedy or updating them on an Ongoing Important Situation.

Duh, News Face! My parents aren’t watching He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. They are sleeping in.

They told us to turn the television down, and don’t wake us unless someone in our house is bleeding.

At 8 years old, I remember one particular Saturday when the Papal Conclave gathered to elect a new pope.

WTF, Catholics? On a Saturday morning? Couldn’t you at least wait until the afternoon?!

All my cartoons had been preempted by this coverage. While disappointed in this network decision, I remained riveted to the small, black-and-white television. What color smoke would rise? When would they make a decision? Would it be before Fat Albert?

When they finally announced the election, I ran to my dad to tell him the news. He looked at my earnest little face and, very kindly, said, “That doesn’t have anything to do with us. We’re not Catholic, so it’s all the same to me.” Then, he went back to reading his book.

Those words echoed in my mind this morning. The news that Queen Elizabeth died swept across my various screens. Even though I consider myself an Anglophile, being a fan of cinema, television, and books from the whole former British Empire, her death both resonated and carried a sense of separation.

Queen Elizabeth held herself to a stoic standard that kept regular folks at a distance in the best of times and was problematic in the worst. Many of us in the LGBTQ community found her reluctance to address issues central to our existence troubling, especially since her role was more symbolic than political.

At least she love-love-loved her corgis!

I watch the hubbub surrounding this moment and the Queen and feel so sad for the family, having just lost my own mother earlier this year.  To have the weight of an empire fall on your shoulders at the moment of loss must be a strange and horrible thing, even with the years of preparation that have occurred. And the shift in your own life echoes on the world stage with unknown consequences. After all, that monarchy has very little to do with the actual operation of the U.K. government.

Then again, I’m an American. We escaped British rule almost 250 years ago and still celebrate that separation each year. Although Britain is now our closest ally, it is still another country, and she was their monarch, not ours. While the pageantry is seductive, and the coverage on both U.S. and U.K. news outlets pervasive, I’m not British, so it’s all the same to me.

So, I guess my reaction is the reaction of a person whose friend’s mother died. The queen was an amazing person, forceful and graceful, evolving with the times while integrating her social training from the past. I never felt very close to her, but she raised a fabulous person that I love, a being who created beautiful and fantastic art, who introduced me to my favorite secret agent, and whose grief in this moment is to be respected and shared in a very small way.

At the same time, this event reminded me of how our television lives have changed. Now, kids can watch their cartoons without having to wait for Saturday morning. Adults can tune into the news on whatever screen they wish.

In these days of apps and subscriptions, we choose what we watch with intention. We can tune in or walk away. It’s up to us.

And yes, I watched a moment of the funereal festivities.

I can watch my cartoons anytime.