Queen for a Day

There was a TV show in the US when I was a child (long ago!) called Queen for a Day. It was an early version of reality game shows. Various women would come on the show and tell their sad tales of woe, including what they wanted most, often something like a washing machine or medical help for a sick child. After the stories were told, the audience would clap for their favorite, and one woman would be chosen as the queen based on the level of applause. She was crowned and draped in regal robes, and seated on a throne. Her wishes were granted, and other prizes were awarded.

Although the show, like many of its ilk, was embarrassing and humiliating, the concept was alluring. Here were women often overlooked as they went through their lives of challenge and sacrifice. One of them would be singled out as special and celebrated.

I was witness to such an event in my own life that made a lasting impression. I had an aunt who was special to me, Aunt Bernice (pronounced with the accent on the first syllable – Bur’ness). My mother was the youngest in a large family from the Ozark Mountains in Missouri, and Aunt Bernice took the place of the grandmother who had died before I was born. She gave “down home” all the deep soul meaning the expression has always had for me. Handmade quilts, cut short beans cooking on the stove, the gold spray painted bust of JFK on the wall, the plastic praying hands on a doily on the lamp table. Her speech was full of extra A’s, as in “I’m a-gonna cook up some more cut short beans.”

Aunt Bernice was no one famous or powerful. She spent her days tending to her family. I adored her.

My friend Tom and I took her out to lunch one day. Tom is famous and powerful. A graduate of Harvard Law School, an influential lawyer, a man used to being listened to. But on that day you would not have known it. He treated Aunt Bernice like she was queen for a day. He held her chair, made sure her food was to her liking, asked her about her family, listened attentively to the stories of her childhood, stories I grew up with.

Like this one. As a young girl, Aunt Bernice liked to go down to the creek. One day, she heard someone coming, and hid in the bushes. Along came a boy she knew riding on a mule. He spied her in the bushes and called out to her. She was too embarrassed to reply, so she picked up a rock and threw it at him, striking the mule which then bolted up the creek. She ended up marrying that boy.

Oh, she told it so much better than that. As Tom listened, Aunt Bernice grinned with pleasure, the deep lines in her face crinkling up like brittle paper. And I grinned with pleasure, too, watching her enjoy herself, grateful to my friend for his gallantry and kindness. The way he treated my aunt made a much bigger impression on me than all his elite degrees and prestigious positions. When I commented later on his graciousness, he said that his father taught him that all people deserve our attention and respect, that we should make everyone comfortable in our presence. Wise dad, that one.

Aunt Bernice died just before her 100th birthday, leaving a legacy of children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and great great grandchildren. I have many treasured memories of her, but that lunch stands out to me. She was queen for a day that day, as she was in my heart every day.

Is there someone in your life who deserves to be queen or king for a day?

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