Candle in the Wind

In the early morning hours of August 31, 1997, Diana Spencer (aka Diana, Princess of Wales) succumbed to injuries received in an automobile accident a few hours earlier. This all occurred in Paris, France, so here in the United States -- specifically, Central Standard Time, where I reside -- it was during the evening of August 30. Regardless, it was twenty-five years ago that the world lost one of its most high-profile royals. The last such occasion was probably the death of Grace Kelly (Princess Grace of Monaco). That was in 1982 and, while I've watched a few of her movies, I've no memory of when she died.

August 30, 1997 was a Saturday. This was during the peak of my time spent going out to nightclubs on the weekends. Mostly, this consisted of C-Street, in Champaign, though earlier that summer I'd explored some of the clubs in the Boystown area of Chicago, during Pride festivities. Speaking of Boystown, one of my friends was there on the evening in question. He'd gone up to visit some friends and hit the clubs. A few days later, he told me over the phone how gobsmacked he was at how callous his friends had been in the wake of what had happened.

"We were getting ready to go out," my friend said, "and the news came through about Diana's death." The people he was with continued to get ready, then remarked that it was time to go. "You insensitive bastards!" my friend had exclaimed. "Princess Diana has just died!" I don't remember what he told me happened after that, only that he was relaying this story so that I might share in his indignation. I remember grunting something like, "Huh. Wow," but there was no sincerity to it.

You may remember from my last blog post how August 21 this year marked the 25th anniversary of my father's passing. That occurrence was about 10-days-old at the time Diana died. We'd had the funeral, I'd gone back to work, life continued to go on (heck, I'd even gone to C-Street the weekend after he died). But, well, you can probably imagine that his death still weighed on me a bit. And so, dear reader, the thought of mourning someone whom I'd never met, and certainly didn't know (outside of a carefully curated public image) seemed anathema to me. 'So what if some people wanted to continue on with their Saturday night plans?' I thought. Let them. It's not like they'd lost a parent, or family member, friend, or someone they actually knew.

I remained fairly numb about Diana's death for some time. Other things were happening in my life, and there just wasn't time to grieve for a stranger. Awhile later -- I don't remember when exactly -- there came a day where, like a thought bubble popping into existence above one's head, I realized, seemingly for the first time, that Princess Diana was dead. It was like I'd been sleepwalking through that bit of news for a long time. There was some mild sadness, kind of a, 'Aw, Diana's dead, that's a bummer,' sort of acknowledgment. And, again, life went on.

Diana Spencer was a human being who, aside from being a member of the British royal family, was a daughter, a wife, and a mother. She was a friend to the LGBT community, and an early advocate for those with HIV. She was one of those pop culture figures of the 1980s that looms large in my childhood memory, but who I never became all that invested in. I remember certain adults around me arguing about who they sided with in the acrimonious Charles and Diana split. My maternal grandmother was a staunch Charles defender. I didn't really have a dog in the fight.

Still, Diana's death was the passing of an era. The impact she had is undeniable, particularly when you watch this video of a group of gay friends hanging out together on the night of the accident, reacting to the news as it came in. It is, at least to me, a fascinating time capsule. And, twenty-five years is getting to be a while ago. Two billion more people are on the planet now than when she was alive. For some, they know Diana best from the 2021 film Spencer, where she was portrayed by Kristen Stewart.

Where does the time go?