Once a week on Monday, Uncle Bardie shares a movie with his Readers he gives a big two thumbs up. It will simply be a short excerpt or a trailer. Uncle Bardie might even throw in a reflection on the movie. If so, it will make an appearance below the video. So pop some popcorn and give yourself a treat. This week’s movie is “Roman Holiday” (1953):
Joe Bradley read about Princess Ann’s death in the papers. It was a skiing accident. He immediately called his old photographer buddy, Irving Radovitch.
“Did you hear the news?” he spoke into the phone.
“Yeah,” Irving said. “You going to be okay?”
“Why don’t we go out and tie one on?”
“Why not,” Irving said, knowing his old buddy needed an ear. Or at least some sympathy. Irving was the only who knew the story.
It had been thirty years now since that fateful twenty-four hours in Rome. Princess Ann had briefly escaped her closely monitored life and recruited Joe to be her guide. As soon as he found out who she was, he let his editor know he had the scoop of a lifetime. Then he called Irving to tag along with his camera.
Then he gave Princess Ann the grand tour of Rome. The Spanish Steps, all the fountains, the Mouth of Truth, a scooter ride through Rome. Finally a night of dancing and a narrow escape from the Princess’ security people. As he drove her back to her temporary residence in a palace, he realized he was fallen in love with her. And she had fallen in love with him too. A kiss goodbye and that was it.
That was a long time ago. Since they parted, he had gone on to work for the New York Times. From time to time he found himself looking through the society pages for stories of her. And there they were. Princess Ann had never married. She had left her palaces and gone to work, doing relief work for the United Nations. Since she had easy access to the great and powerful, she did a lot of lobbying for UNICEF and the Red Cross.
In the obituaries, the papers said that she had saved countless lives. When asked why she did it, she responded, “To give my life purpose.”
That night Joe and Irving did not grieve. They celebrated the life that had been Princess Ann. And the twenty-four hours they had experienced being in her presence. It was the twenty-four hours the princess had become her own person.