The Princess and the Tulips

As the tulips are finding our gardens again I thought it apt to re-post this story from a couple of years ago. I hope you enjoy it.

Princess Juliana was in trouble. The country over which she would someday reign was in crisis and her life was in peril. The Nazi blitzkrieg was pushing its way north and west and her beloved Netherlands was certain to fall to Hitler’s mad ambitions.

Just three years before, with the encouragement of her mother, the powerful and extraordinarily wealthy Queen Wilhelmina, she had married a young German aristocrat named Prince Bernard of Lippe-Biesterfeld. They soon fulfilled the most important part of their royal duties by producing heirs. Princess Beatrix was born in 1938 and then, a year later, Princess Irene.

Despite suspicions of all things German, the Dutch people accepted Prince Bernard. He changed the spelling of his name to be less German and became a Dutch citizen. Now they worried about their future, the future of their country, and that of the Royal bloodline if the Princess and her family were captured by the Nazi horde about which astounding stories of unspeakable horror were being told.

The Royal family was evacuated to London. Queen Wilhelmina oversaw the creation of a Dutch government in exile. A month later, in June 1940, Princess Juliana and her family were sent to an even safer sanctuary in Ottawa, Canada. A spacious house was found in the tony neighbourhood of Rockcliffe Park, home to ambassadors and the city’s elite. The house was called Stornoway. It would later become the residence of the leader of Canada’s Official Opposition.

Juliana followed the tragic news of her country having fallen under the Nazi yoke as she worried about her mother enduring the London blitz. The shy princess led a quiet life and remained aloof from Ottawa society events to which she would have been welcomed. Problems arose in late 1942 when she found herself pregnant. If she gave birth in Canada, the child would have dual citizenship and so be robbed of a spot in the Royal line of succession.

The Canadian government came to the rescue. It declared her rooms in Ottawa’s Civic Hospital to be temporarily extraterritorial. In other words, for the moment, Juliana was in the Netherlands. Princess Margriet was born on January 19, 1943. The child became the first and remains the only, royal personage to be born in North America.

Princess and the Tulips Royal Family

Home from the Ottawa Hospital (Photo: cbc.ca)

Canadians were as pleased as the people of the besieged Netherlands. The news led Canadian radio broadcasts and adorned newspaper front pages. The Dutch flag fluttered atop the Parliament Building’s Peace Tower and its bells chimed out the Dutch national anthem and folk tunes.

Meanwhile, the war raged on. Successful D-Day landings by British, American, and Canadian troops initiated a slow and bloody push toward Berlin. Canadians were assigned the left flank and, in September 1944, they began the liberation of the Netherlands. It was tough. The Nazi army had flooded land, mined ports, and dug itself into intractable defensive positions. The Dutch people did what they could to offer fifth column help. So many were so hungry that they had been surviving by eating tulip bulbs. Many were saved when Royal Canadian Airforce planes dropped food for the starving.

Canadian troops fought gallantly. The Battle of the Scheldt was the most excruciating engagement. Between October and November 1944, the Canadian First Army suffered nearly 13,000 casualties. When it succeeded and Nazi forces retreated, Canadian soldiers were hailed as heroes. As they entered Dutch towns, the tired but smiling young men were showered with flowers and gifts.

On May 2, 1945, after five years in Canada, Princess Juliana and her children were able to return first to London and then, along with Queen Wilhelmina, to a freed and free Netherlands. To demonstrate their gratitude for all that Canada had done for the country and her family, the Princess arranged that 100,000 tulip bulbs were sent to Ottawa. The next year, 20,000 more arrived with the request that they be planted on the hospital grounds.

In 1948, as result of her mother’s long illness, Juliana, became Queen. She ensured that more tulip bulbs were sent to Canada every year. Every spring saw Ottawa resplendent in a riot of colour. In 1952, at the suggestion of noted Canadian photographer Malak Karsh, Ottawa began an annual Tulip Festival. The city hosted a celebration that grew to include concerts, buskers, plays, fireworks, and more. Every year the city’s tulip beds grew even more spectacular.

Princess and the Tulips Photo: magpiejewellery.com

In Canada’s centennial year, 1967, Queen Juliana was enthusiastically cheered as she enjoyed the festival. In 2002, Princess Margriet was the special guest commemorating the festival’s 50th anniversary.

The fragile flowers last only a short while but are annual reminders of a friendship within a tragedy and of our common humanity. They remind us of what can be lost to the insanity of war and blind adherence to a hateful ideology. And, standing boldly in their primary colours, they symbolize the assurance that after every winter, man-made or otherwise, lives a determined hope that there is always spring, and that someday we may be sufficiently mature to live in peace.

If you enjoyed this column, please consider sending it to others and perhaps leaving a comment.

The Real Change and Our Real Decision

A fundamental change that is marking our era and determining our future is upon us. We have a decision to make. We need to make it now.

We are living the consequences of two crashes: 9-11 and the Great Recession. The American-led, western world’s response to the 2001 attacks saw troops, including ours, fighting impossible missions and too often in self-defeating ways. The middle east and then the world was destabilized as new terrorist organizations grew and impressionable youth were radicalized. Explosions in Boston, London, Paris, and elsewhere solidified the belief that fear is justified, there’s an enemy among us, and governments are unable to help.

the-real-change

Billions were borrowed and economic fundamentals teetered in the permanent war against a tactic and expensive domestic security measures that protected us from the last but not next attack. The economic and existential strains, along with the greed of a few bankers and financiers whom deregulation had freed to wallow in avarice, contributed to the 2008 economic crash. Governments were seen borrowing more money but giving it to those who had caused the crisis. Governments seemed incapable of or unwilling to provide a playing field sufficiently level to allow the rewarding of obeying the law, paying taxes, and honest, hard work. Corporations valued the loyalty of neither their workers nor customers. The millions of middle and working class people who lost jobs, homes, and dreams, and were still removing shoes in airports and seeing things explode on TV, could be forgiven for seeking someone, anyone, to blame.

In a world where long established rules and assumptions no longer applied, demagogues who would normally have been dismissed found their messages resonating. Those supporting Britain’s leaving the European Union, Brexit, said Britain first. In his inauguration speech, Donald Trump clenched his first and shouted America first – twice. France’s National Front leader and presidential candidate Marine Le Pen watches her popularity rise as she demands white, French, nationals first. They are not the change. They are the symptoms. They are the arbiters.

The two crashes led to the collapse of the western, liberal consensus that has informed progress and policy since the end of the Second World War. After liberalism and communism allied to defeat fascism, it was determined that we are all in this together. Multilateral, cooperative efforts would save us from another Auschwitz, Nanking, and Hiroshima. We would talk things out at the United Nations, have each other’s back through the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, keep each other stable through the International Monetary Fund, and buy each other’s stuff through trade agreements. The thought was that we were no longer in separate boats, racing through choppy waters for unique destinations. Rather, we’re in one big boat, squabbling like children, but together. We were united in our efforts to create more peace, equality, wealth, health, and democracy for all.

But now, forget the European Union, denigrate the UN, defund NGOs, end trade treaties, call NATO archaic, withdraw from or ignore global climate change initiatives, stifle immigration, throw up tariffs, and build that wall. Mr. Trump’s wall is not yet a reality but already an apt metaphor for our times. Russia knows it. China knows it. They’re loving it.

Canada punched above its weight in helping to create and maintain the post-war liberal-western consensus. Through his commitment to Syrian refugees, the Paris global climate change initiative, and more, Prime Minister Trudeau has demonstrated that that he still supports it. Some Conservative party leadership candidates, on the other hand, seem eager to join Trump and Le Pen in smashing it. Canada has a decision to make. We must join one side of history or the other. We must fight to protect what has protected us and others for so long or flip to the other side. Our decision will determine our future for generations.

The Chinese have a curse: “May you live in interesting times.” We do. Buckle up.

  If you enjoyed this column, please send it to others and consider checking out my others at http://www.johnboyko.com

10 War Words We Use Today

We are people of peace who use words of war. We can’t help it. They have entered the vernacular so completely that we don’t even realize we are doing it. Consider the following ten and listen for them as you go through your day.

  1. Deadline

American Civil War battles sometimes resulted in the gathering of hundreds or even thousands of prisoners. It was seldom possible to quickly transfer them to camps or arrange prisoner swaps so they had to walk along with victorious army. At night or during rest stops, guards would draw a line in the dirt around prisoners and warn them that if they stepped over that line they would be shot. It was the deadline.

  1. Chatting

Soldiers in First World War trenches found, among other hardships, that their hair and uniforms were infested with lice. They would sit across from each other and use fingernails or cigarettes to remove the lice and their eggs – chats – from their mate’s hair and clothing. While doing the deed they would talk and soon, soldiers referred to anytime they made small talk as chatting.

I Was There: The Great War Interviews

(Photo: http://www.dailymail.co.uk)

  1. Heard It Through the Grapevine

Samuel Morse invented the telegraph. It was a code that could click messages through wires at a speed that was a 19th century marvel. At the outbreak of the American Civil War in 1861, both sides strung wires from city to city and to the front lines. The wires reminded folks of hanging grapevines and so when asked where one had heard a particular bit of news it became common to respond, “I heard it through the grapevine.”

  1. Sniper

In the late 19th century, British soldiers seeking to amuse themselves with proof of marksmanship took birds as their targets. The most difficult to hit was the small and quick moving Snipe. Those able to accomplish the feat became known as snipers. The name stuck when in the First World War Germans began using telescope-sighted rifles to shoot individuals in enemy trenches. Soon, all armies used, and called them variants of, snipers.

  1. Bikini

In the first year of the Cold War, in 1946, the American military needed a remote spot to test atomic bombs. A group of Pacific Islands was deemed perfect and so 167 native people were moved from their homes. The women were wearing skimpy clothing that exposed their midriffs as they were removed from Bikini Island. The bikini bathing suite went on sale shortly afterwards.

  1. Lock, Stock, and Barrel

A 19th century Civil War musket had three parts: a lock, a stock, and a metal barrel. Each part was useless without the other one but deadly when working well together. Thus, when a person put everything into an action he was said to be doing it “lock, stock and barrel.”

  1. Beer

There is evidence that all ancient cultures made and enjoyed beer. However, it was not until Roman soldiers began moving north and drinking a home-made brew in what would later become Germany that the name was invented. They called the hearty ales and lagers by the Latin word for drink – biber. When Romans conquered the southern part of England they found English folks drinking the same grog and they Anglicized it to beer.

  1. Cardigan

During the Crimean War, an English military leader named James Thomas Burdenell carefully drilled his men so that they were unbeatable in battle. Their prowess led to their being called the Light Brigade. In their famous charge, he courageously led them from the front. That day, like many in which the morning dawned chilly, he wore a gift from his wife over his uniform, a knitted, buttoned sweater. Burdenell, his men, and his sweater became famous. He was the 7th Earl of Cardigan.

  1. Champion

Medieval knights trained in contests held on a large field which, in Latin, was called a campus. The contest winners were deemed the campion. For reasons unknown, English spellers simply added a letter to make it champion.

  1. D-Day

The expression came from a First World War way of explaining operations without revealing the time or day of an impending attack. The practice remained common in the Second World War. The first field order mentioning the Second World War amphibious landing at Normandy, consequently, stated that the allies would attack at “H-Hour on D-Day.” The D, rather redundantly, stands for Day. So D-Day, used now for many of our deadlines, recall that is another war word, really means Day-Day.

If you enjoyed this column, please consider sharing it with others.

The Princess and the Tulips

Princess Juliana was in trouble. The country over which she would someday reign was in crisis and her life was in peril. The Nazi blitzkrieg was pushing its way north and west and her beloved Netherlands was certain to fall to Hitler’s mad ambitions.

Just three years before, with the encouragement of her mother, the powerful and extraordinarily wealthy Queen Wilhelmina, she had married a young German aristocrat named Prince Bernard of Lippe-Biesterfeld. They soon fulfilled the most important part of their royal duties by producing heirs. Princess Beatrix was born in 1938 and then, a year later, Princess Irene.

Despite suspicions of all things German, the Dutch people accepted Prince Bernard. He changed the spelling of his name to be less German and became a Dutch citizen. Now they worried about their future, the future of their country, and that of the Royal bloodline if the Princess and her family were captured by the Nazi horde about which astounding stories of unspeakable horror were being told.

The Royal family was evacuated to London. Queen Wilhelmina oversaw the creation of a Dutch government in exile. A month later, in June 1940, Princess Juliana and her family were sent to an even safer sanctuary in Ottawa, Canada. A spacious house was found in the tony neighbourhood of Rockcliffe Park, home to ambassadors and the city’s elite. The house was called Stornoway. It would later become the residence of the leader of Canada’s Official Opposition.

Juliana followed the tragic news of her country having fallen under the Nazi yoke as she worried about her mother enduring the London blitz. The shy princess led a quiet life and remained aloof from Ottawa society events to which she would have been welcomed. Problems arose in late 1942 when she found herself pregnant. If she gave birth in Canada, the child would have dual citizenship and so be robbed of a spot in the Royal line of succession.

The Canadian government came to the rescue. It declared her rooms in Ottawa’s Civic Hospital to be temporarily extra territorial. In other words, for the moment, Juliana was in the Netherlands. Princess Margriet was born on January 19, 1943. The child became the first, and remains the only, royal personage to be born in North America.

Princess and the Tulips Royal Family

Home from the Ottawa Hospital (Photo: cbc.ca)

Canadians were as pleased as the people of the besieged Netherlands. The news led Canadian radio broadcasts and adorned newspaper front pages. The Dutch flag fluttered atop the Parliament Building’s Peace Tower and its bells chimed out the Dutch national anthem and folk tunes.

Meanwhile, the war raged on. Successful D-Day landings by British, American, and Canadian troops initiated a slow and bloody push toward Berlin. Canadians were assigned the left flank and, in September 1944, they began the liberation of the Netherlands. It was tough. The Nazi army had flooded land, mined ports, and dug itself into intractable defensive positions. The Dutch people did what they could to offer fifth column help. So many were so hungry that they had been surviving by eating tulip bulbs. Many were saved when Royal Canadian Airforce planes dropped food for the starving.

Canadian troops fought gallantly. The Battle of the Scheldt was the most excruciating engagement. Between October and November 1944, the Canadian First Army suffered nearly 13,000 casualties. When it succeeded and Nazi forces retreated, Canadian soldiers were hailed as heroes. As they entered Dutch towns, the tired but smiling young men were showered with flowers and gifts.

On May 2, 1945, after five years in Canada, Princess Juliana and her children were able to return first to London and then, along with Queen Wilhelmina, to a freed and free Netherlands. To demonstrate their gratitude for all that Canada had done for the country and her family, the Princess arranged that 100,000 tulip bulbs were sent to Ottawa. The next year, 20,000 more arrived with the request that they be planted on the hospital grounds.

In 1948, as result of her mother’s long illness, Juliana, became Queen. She ensured that more tulip bulbs were sent to Canada every year. Every spring saw Ottawa resplendent in a riot of colour. In 1952, at the suggestion of noted Canadian photographer Malak Karsh, Ottawa began an annual Tulip Festival. The city hosted a celebration that grew to include concerts, buskers, plays, fireworks, and more. Every year the city’s tulip beds grew even more spectacular.

Princess and the Tulips Photo: magpiejewellery.com

In Canada’s centennial year, 1967, Queen Juliana was enthusiastically cheered as she enjoyed the festival. In 2002, Princess Margriet was the special guest commemorating the festival’s 50th anniversary.

This weekend my family will be enjoying the festival. We’ve been before. It is spectacular. The flowers, so fragile and lasting only a short while, are reminders of a friendship within a tragedy and of our common humanity. They remind us of what can be lost to the insanity of war and blind adherence to a hateful ideology. And, standing boldly in the spring breeze, they symbolize the assurance that after every winter follows the spring and the determined hope that we may someday be sufficiently mature to live in peace.

 This is a rare second column in what is usually a weekly blog. If you like it, please share it with others and consider leaving a comment.

Secrets: Hitler, the King and the Teacher

A tombstone in a small Canadian city suggests that there may be even more skeletons crammed into the already bone-riddled closets of Britain’s House of Windsor.

It all begins with Edward. The eldest son of King George V never really appreciated his Royal responsibilities. Called David by his family, he was a rebellious boy, raised by nannies. As soon as he was of legal age, he fought to fight and so served in the First World War. Much to his chagrin, he was kept safely back from the front. At the war’s end, he returned to devoting most of his time to bedding young women, many of whom were married. The tittering British public derided the Duke of Windsor as the Playboy Prince.

Partly to end the embarrassing trysts, the angry King put the randy Prince on the road. One of his tours brought him to Canada. In autumn 1919, he was in Galt, Ontario. Galt is one of three small towns that were later amalgamated to form Cambridge. The 25-year-old and his retinue checked into the Iroquois Hotel. Edward often demanded last minute schedule changes and sometimes missed events. He did it again at Galt and escaped his handlers. At this point, the line between fact and conjecture becomes somewhat murky.

According to local legend, the handsome and dapper young man wandered from the hotel and happened upon a 27 year-old teacher who was tending her garden. He introduced himself as David and claimed to be an underling with the Royal Visit. The beguiling and pretty Millicent Milroy was polite but confessed no interest in Royalty. He was entranced. They spoke for a while and then walked together to the Iroquois.

Millicent Milroy

Millicent Milroy (generations.regionofwaterloo.ca)

Edward was soon on his way but suddenly quite interested in Canada. He purchased the Bedingfield ranch in Alberta. On a subsequent visit, he donated the Prince of Wales Trophy to the N.H.L.

Millicent – everyone called her Millie – went back to her students while the Duke’s recklessness with women intensified and was even debated in the British House of Commons. His father exclaimed, “After I am dead, the boy will ruin himself in 12 months.” Among the many married women with whom Edward had illicit relationships was an American named Wallis Simpson. He tried to bring her to a Buckingham Palace event but the King and Queen refused to receive her.

Following the death of his father, on January 20, 1936 Edward became King Edward VIII. That November, he told Prime Minister Baldwin that when Mrs. Simpson’s second divorce was finalized, he wished to marry her. Baldwin was aghast. He said it would violate Church of England law and the British sense of moral decency. The Prime Ministers of various Commonwealth countries were consulted and Canada’s Mackenzie King expressed opposition. Millie was mum.

On December 11, 1936, people huddled close to their crackling radios to hear their King say, “I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as king as I would wish to do without the help and support of the woman I love.” Edward abdicated and his brother succeeded him as George VI. Film goers recently came to know the new king’s struggles to overcome a stutter in The King’s Speech.

The retitled Duke of Windsor fled England for Austria. He married Wallis Simpson in June 1937. The Royal Family was glaringly absent from the wedding. In fact, his brother threatened to end the Royal allowance if he ever returned to Britain.

While angry with his family, the Duke became an admirer of Adolf Hitler. Hitler had taken power in 1933, took Jewish rights the next year, and was soon taking chunks of Europe. After honeymooning in Nazi-occupied Austria, the Duke and his new wife visited Hitler. In October 1937, before a large Berlin crowd, he offered Hitler the straight-armed Nazi salute. They then enjoyed a 12-day tour of the country that included a long stay with Hitler and his top advisors at Berchtesgaden, the Fuhrer’s opulent retreat.

Prinz Harrys Urgroßonkel Herzog von Windsor traf Hitler

Duke, Duchess and Fuhrer (photo: en.wikipedia.org)

After the war, British and American authorities captured and sealed the meeting records but they have been recently released. They are reported in a book entitled 17 Carnations that was published just weeks ago by British writer Andrew Morton. The records contain a letter in which Edward calls Hitler “a very great man” and that it would be “a tragic thing for the world if he were overthrown.” The records also show that Hitler pledged to protect Edward and his wife if they would stay quietly in a Spanish chalet while Britain was attacked. After Britain’s fall, the Duke and Duchess would be moved to Buckingham Palace to reign as Hitler’s puppets.

Recently released Nazi diplomatic records note that the Duke was “the only Englishman with whom Hitler would negotiate any peace terms, the logical director of England’s destiny after the war.” Other documents reveal that Edward believed that his brother the King was ‘utterly stupid’ and that Churchill was a ‘war monger’. Their insistence on fighting Hitler, he believed, would needlessly waste British lives.

Following his German visit, the Duke, indeed, moved to Spain. He and Churchill began a brief correspondence and shortly afterward, the Duke and Duchess were moved first to Portugal and then, in August 1940, to the Bahamas. Churchill hoped the dangerous Duke would be safely away from his fascist friend.

Recently released FBI files indicate that President Roosevelt had them carefully watched. The FBI told the president that while in Austria, the Duchess had engaged in a torrid affair with Hitler’s ambassador to London Joachim von Ribbentrop. The romantic or conniving Nazi who would later be Hitler’s Foreign Minister, sent his lover 17 carnations – one for each day of their fling The FBI also told Roosevelt of proof that Herman Goering, Commander of the Luftwaffe and Hitler’s designated successor, had concluded Hitler’s deal – the Duke would become the Nazi-dominated King after Britain’s defeat.

The plots and plans ended in May 1945 with Hitler’s death and silencing of the guns. The Duke and Duchess lived the rest of their days in pampered affluence and caused no further diplomatic stirs. Edward died at age 78, a forgotten relic, in May 1972.

The story then returns to Canada. The 80 year-old retired teacher, Millicent Milroy, had pre-arranged her funeral. She’d had a stone placed in the Mount View Cemetery. Two weeks after the Duke’s death, she had the stone carved to read: “Millicent Milroy, daughter of James and Helen Jane Milroy, 1892 – _______ Wife of Edward (VIII), Duke of Windsor, 1894 – 1972.

Milroy tombstone

(photo: cynfulcreationscanada.blogspot.com)

A journalist was soon banging on her door, insisting to know if the stone was a joke. She explained that at the Iroquois Hotel in 1919, she and the Prince had become so instantly enamoured with one another that they had a “romantic encounter” and were secretly married. They agreed to keep their secret from the world until one of them died.

Some folks dismissed Ms. Milroy as a delusional loon. However, everything about her suggested otherwise. She had enjoyed a fine career and had always been an upstanding member of her community. She was perfectly lucid, with clear and vivid memories of all aspects of her life. She weaved no other tales linking her with any other important people or events.

Millie Milroy died in 1984. She never budged from her story and was buried beneath the stone insisting on its veracity. Perhaps it is just a story. However, when considered in light of other facets of Edward’s life that are only now being revealed and confirmed, maybe Galt’s Queen Millie deserves another look.

If you enjoyed this column, please use email or your social media of choice to share it with others and perhaps see more of the columns that I post every Monday morning.