As we are living in the midst of the Corona Virus pandemic - the most significant world event since the Second World War - I looked back to the past and REMEMBERED THAT DAY of other notable national and international events that stayed in my mind - the Queen's Coronation, the assassination of President Kennedy, the funeral of Sir Winston Churchill, the death of Princess Diana and 9/11.
2nd June 1953 - The Queen's Coronation.
I was nine years old and had been busy making red, white and blue
decorations, creating a coronation scrapbook, collecting my coronation
mug (presented to all children) and playing with the doll my mother
made for me, dressed as the Queen with a long velvet purple embroidered
train, and on the day itself watching the ceremony on our new 10-inch
screen black and white television I had put on my yellow taffeta party
dress in honour of the occasion. But there was a personal dimension to the day, as my mother was in hospital for three weeks around that time following a major operation. For my younger brother and myself it was a strange uncertain time, especially as children were not allowed to visit the hospital. The day she came home was emotional as we all burst into tears - and I wore again my party dress to welcome Mum back to the family.
22nd November 1963 - President Kennedy was Assassinated - A Shot that Rang Around the World. We were watching TV in the early evening when a special "over to our
newsroom" announcement cut in, and we heard about the shooting in
Dallas. During Kennedy's election campaign I was still at school and
JFK was someone we admired and we poured over the photographs of
Jackie's fashions. We saw on TV the President's 's powerful inauguration speech, his
meeting with Khrushchev, his speech at the Berlin Wall and my father got
up during the night to hear his statement on the Cuban crisis that threatened world peace in a nuclear age. We felt part of a new era. Young and energetic-looking for a world leader, JFK made such a contrast with our own Prime Minister Harold Macmillan who seemed to epitomise the Edwardian period of 50 years past. I had never lost anyone close to me, yet President Kennedy's death hit me hard. Perhaps it was something to do with the impact of television bringing it much closer to home. I stayed off university lectures to watch the funeral on TV and wept at the sight of Jackie and her two young children. For a long time I kept the newspapers covering the tragedy and I bought a memorial book of the President's life.
Only three years later I was in Boston, USA on a year's exchange programme. With another British girl we travelled around the country on the Greyhound bus, with Dallas and Washington DC on our itinerary. We also also saw the unveiling in Boston of the JFK Library, attended by Robert and Edward Kennedy. It is amazing to think back at the low level of security, as I was able very easily to take this photograph on my little camera and even had Robert Kennedy sign the souvenir programme. Two years on and Robert Kennedy himself was shot dead in Los Angeles whilst on a Presidential election campaign.
I know the Kennedy legend has long since been tarnished, but that tragic day was for me, over 4000 miles away in Scotland, a momentous event that has stayed in my memory.
30th January 1965 - Sir Winston Churchill's Funeral.
I had grown up with my father's reminiscences of the war, (which
included working in London by the Cabinet War Rooms) and his high
regard for Sir Winston Churchill. At school in my exams for French and
German (bit of irony here), when asked in the essay question to write
on a famous person, I chose Sir Winston. His death, although not
unexpected, still was a landmark event which I shared in. I was doing
Modern History and Politics at university and some of my class took the
overnight bus down from Edinburgh to London to join the thousands
walking past his coffin in Westminster Hall. We sat as a family to
watch the state funeral at St. Paul's Cathedral and the iconic image of
the cranes alongside the River Thames bowing in salute as the coffin
was carried by boat down the river.
31st August 1997 - Death of Diana.
Sunday morning 7am and the phone went, meaning a leap out of bed
thinking "Has something happened to our daughter", who we knew would
be finishing night shift in the Edinburgh police control room. She
gave us the news and of course we immediately turned to the television
to watch the tragic events unfold - and it was tragic the sudden death
of Princess Dian, an attractive woman and mother with so much potential but whose
personal life had taken a sad turn before being cut short. You could not
but be moved to see the two young princes following their mother's
coffin on its silent route through London. Psychologists have written
pages on the state of the nation at the time, "wallowing in grief
tourism" etc. We were annoyed at the media calls for the Queen "to be
with her people" i.e in London, as if being in Scotland meant she was
out of the country. It was a definitive moment in many ways.
11th September 2001
- I was working at Library Headquarters that day in the Local Studies
Room when my daughter phoned to tell me that a plane had crashed into
the twin towers in New York. I had visited the city many years ago,
long before the twin towers were built and I was a bit hazy about them,
but my first reaction was "what an awful accident". I told colleagues
and we logged onto the BBC website and saw the dreadful news of the
second strike. There was an American visitor in the Study Room and
we broke the news to him - he immediately went outside to phone friends
and family. We then dashed to the Training Room where there was a
television. Words cannot describe the horror. What struck in my mind
most was the experience of those on the planes who had left Boston
to discover they were flying to their death - yet whose thoughts were
to phone family expressing their love.
A
week later we were on holiday on the west coast of Scotland and took
the ferry from Oban to sail to the Isle of Mull and then onto the Isle
of Iona. It was the most perfect September day you could have asked for
- sunny blue skies, a calm sea, a panorama of hills and the seals
bobbing around the ferry. There were a lot of Americans on the boat,
and the atmosphere was quiet and subdued. People were going up to them
to shake their hand and extend their sympathy.
Everyone talks abut the magical nature of Iona - the seat of Scottish Christianity where St. Columba founded his Abbey in 563AD. It is amazing that even though the boat seemed busy, visitors spread out on the small island and it seems as if you have the place to yourself. It was so peaceful - a beautiful haven in what suddenly seemed a very evil world.
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| Celtic Cross War Memorial on Iona, looking across to the Isle of Mull |
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Copyright © 2020 · Susan Donaldson. All Rights Reserved
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