Elizabeth and Emma

June 7, 2022

I like and respect Queen Elizabeth II. I love and respect my grandmother, Emma Flanagan Kenney. I don’t consider myself to be a feminist, and there are plenty of female politicians that I don’t care for. But I do suspect that the world would be less warlike and more compassionate if there were more women prime ministers and presidents.

Elizabeth has been in the news for the last few days because the United Kingdom just celebrated the platinum jubilee of her 70 years as monarch. She became queen when I was 5 days old, and now, at the age of 96, she’s shown stamina and resilience as a head of state, as a mother, and as a human being.

The queen herself is a unifying, gracious figure, both in real life and in the Netflix series The Crown, but the British monarchy remains controversial both in the U.K. and in many of its former colonies. It’s not so much the royal family that is resented, but rather the aftermath of the sometimes harsh oppression inflicted by the British Empire upon the people of its former colonies in Ireland, the U.S., the Caribbean, Africa, India, Malaysia, et al. We Americans got over our resentments a long time ago, but for other peoples the wounds are more fresh.

I don’t know how the cruelties of the British Empire compare to those of the empires of the Romans, Spanish, Germans, Russians, Chinese, Mongols, or Japanese, not to mention the American conquest of native peoples in this country or the aggressive territorial expansion of the Lakota and Comanche tribes at the expense of their fellow North American Indian neighbors. So rather than consider the pros and cons of imperial rule, I’d prefer to focus on individual leadership and character.

I can’t imagine having the same job for 70 years, let alone one in the glare of the public spotlight for that length of time. Elizabeth has managed to be a symbol of her country and an exemplar of continuity, dignity, and charm. No wonder she is revered by so many in her nation and abroad. And she played a powerful role in healing centuries of bitterness between England and Ireland during her state visit to that latter country in 2011. Her skillful, sensitive diplomacy endeared her to the Irish people, and to me.

My grandmother Emma was 100% Irish, as is my mother. I, alas, am only half Irish. My dad was a great guy, but his mix of English and German heritage was no match for the wilder, more fun-loving Irish. Think St. Patrick’s Day and Halloween – two Irish imports – and you get the idea. Emma once showed me how to do an Irish jig, and she laughed a lot. But like Elizabeth, she was also a reserved, elegant lady, and she took her role as family matriarch seriously.

Emma, like Elizabeth, was born into a wealthy family. But somewhere along the line Emma learned humility. Whether it was the result of her serious childhood health problems, or her deep Catholic faith, she didn’t let her family’s riches spoil her. As a child she asked her chauffeur to drop her off a block before her school so she could walk the rest of the way without flaunting her wealth in front of the other kids.

Money has its advantages, however. Through family connections she had a private audience at the Vatican with Pope Pius X in 1910, and in 1913 she and her father had tea at the White House with President Woodrow Wilson. But she was also captain of her college women’s basketball team, and in World War I was a first lieutenant in the U.S. Army.

Apparently she married my grandfather because he too was a good Catholic. But he was well beneath her social class, and her family disapproved. I don’t know whether she lost her inheritance for that reason, or in the 1929 stock market crash, but she raised her nine children during the Great Depression without the advantages of her former wealth and with little help from her alcoholic husband. She even got a part time job to pay for her kids’ music lessons and orthodontia. Yet I never heard her complain about my grandfather or her financial losses and struggles.

Our extended family gatherings at her home in Berkeley were filled with most of her nine kids and their spouses and her 28 grandchildren. But as in any family, royal or not, there were sometimes tensions beneath the surface. As a child and young adult I enjoyed spending Easter, Mothers Day, the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays at Gram’s house, but years later one of my aunts told me, “You and the other grandkids think your grandmother was a saint. And she was a great lady. But sometimes we felt pressured to attend family events, and we didn’t appreciate that.”

Queen Elizabeth is 96, and my grandmother also lived to be 96. Emma was mentally sharp until the day she died, and Elizabeth is following in her footsteps. Both women had privileged backgrounds, but they also had something more: a strong work ethic and a love for their families and countries. My grandmother died in 1991, but she’s still very much alive.

Long live the queens.