We spoke of many things. He mentioned that the critics had blasted him for expressing his views on modern architecture, since he had no credentials. He was keenly interested in environmental issues but wanted to avoid being attacked again in the same way he was by architects, so he asked if it was all right for him to consult me if he ever needed to have some backup expertise. I readily agreed but have never heard from him again, so I hope he does have others with expertise to advise him. He told me how to address the envelope of a letter so it would get to him in person, but I have never taken advantage of that information.
Toward the end of our meeting, which lengthened into an hour, he suddenly asked Tara and me what we thought about Muslims. The question came out of left field, and both of us sputtered that we hadn't really thought about them. “I think they are a very important group that we have to reach out to,” he answered, adding that immediately after we left, he was meeting some Muslim leaders. History has revealed how prescient he was.
I did meet him twice more. Once, when Bob Rae was the New Democrat premier of Ontario, I was invited to a noon luncheon with the prince and a group of leaders from the ethnic community. The prince was very informal and suggested we make it a working lunch and chat while we ate. He opened the discussion by asking what we each felt were priorities for Canada. A banker originally from the Caribbean got up and talked about racism; the first day he had gone to work at the bank, a guard had mistaken him for the janitor. A Chinese Canadian recounted her experiences of discrimination during her time in Canada, and a European Jew voiced her concerns about religious problems.
As the luncheon went on, I realized I must have been invited as representing another visible minority. I finally raised my hand and said that as a Japanese Canadian, I knew about the reality of discrimination, but I felt there were other priorities for all people that were worth mentioning. “I've been involved with environmental issues for a while, but today I feel as if we're all in a giant car,” I said, making up my metaphor on the spot, “heading at a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour, and everyone in the car is arguing about where they want to sit. But it doesn't matter who is sitting in the driver's seat, someone has to shout, ‘Turn the wheel and put on the brakes!' ”
It got a laugh from a few people, including the prince, as we realized that we had focused on our immediate and personal issues but that there are also matters that envelop all of us. I have since used the metaphor many times, elaborating on it by adding that “those of us who are calling out to turn the wheel and put on the brakes are locked in the trunk so no one can hear.”
I met Prince Charles once more in Ottawa when a lot of important Canadian people were called to have a buffet lunch with the Prince and Princess of Wales. I don't like these events, because I always feel awkward and find it difficult to engage in chitchat while gawking and being gawked at. I admire the way Prince Charles circulates apparently effortlessly, because I cannot imagine doing it day after day, year after year. When he was brought to my part of the room, he gave the impression in the way he greeted me that he recognized me. We had chatted for a minute or so when Diana sidled up (I was surprised at how tall she was) and said in a rather loud whisper, “How much longer?” She was clearly bored and couldn't wait to get out of there. I didn't hear his answer as I quickly ducked out of the way.
While I'm on the subject of royalty, I have to say that although I'm not a monarchist, I think it's great to have a governor general representing the Crown (and lieutenant-governors in the provinces) to kiss babies, give out awards, cut ribbons, and otherwise perform an important role with the public. It gives our prime minister and premiers a welcome reprieve from these activities so that they can concentrate on the business of governing. The United States suffers because presidents have to perform both functions.
When the former CBC journalist Adrienne Clarkson was considering accepting the position of governor general, I ran into her partner, the Canadian writer-philosopher John Ralston Saul, and told him I thought he would be prevented from taking part in the important discussions he writes about. He assured me he had no intention of being muzzled, but I was skeptical. But just as he had said, once Adrienne was installed, he continued to speak out and write as he always had. My admiration for both of them increased as they added glamor to their roles and brought together Canadians to think about key matters. I was disgusted by petty criticism over the tax money spent as they went about their job, which I think they did well.
More than twenty years ago, Tara attended a function in Ottawa that featured Prince Philip, father of Prince Charles. She was chatting in a big meeting hall with Noreen Rudd, an expert in human genetics, when Prince Philip hove into view and asked what they did. When Noreen answered that she was a human geneticist interested in the effects of environmental factors on fetal development, the prince riposted, “My mother bumped into a record player when she was pregnant with me but it didn't do any harm, do any harm, do any harm.”
THE DALAI LAMA IS another man who deserves his celebrity status. In 2002 I received a letter from a leading Tibetan Buddhist from Dharamsala in northern India, the Dalai Lama's home in exile, asking me to talk about the environment to a select group of Tibetan monks living in India, in a program organized annually by their leader. I was flattered to receive the invitation, but I turned it down because it was for January, when I knew air pollution would be at its worst; I didn't want to risk further harming my lungs, which had been seriously weakened when I was in India filming the story on dams.
However, when my daughters learned I had declined the invitation, they were incredulous. “How can you turn down an invitation from the Dalai Lama?” they demanded. “It wasn't the Dalai Lama. It was someone high up among his monks,” I protested. Nevertheless, they begged me to reconsider because they wanted to meet the Dalai Lama. I knew he had an enormous following, including high-profile celebrities like the actors Richard Gere and Goldie Hawn, but I did not consider the Hollywood glitz and faddishness reasons to want to meet him. However, I loved the idea that the family might travel together and share time in India, so I wrote back and asked whether I could be reconsidered.
Fortunately, I was reinstated in the program and, in fact, a half-hour private session was arranged with His Holiness in New Delhi, the Indian capital. The girls were thrilled. We flew to Delhi several days before we were scheduled to meet him. On the way to our hotel from the airport, the cab stopped at a traffic light and we were besieged by children begging. One small girl came up to my window pointing to her empty sleeve — she had only one arm and held her one palm up. I pulled out my wallet and gave her a few rupees as she scampered away and the car moved on. At the next light, more children surrounded us, and one came over to my window, pointing out his empty sleeve. That's when I realized these children could find easy targets like me by hiding one arm inside their shirts. I was tickled by their ingenuity.
A meeting with the Dalai Lama was arranged in a grand hotel at 9:30 in the morning. We knew what a privilege it was. People often tried for years to get up close to him, and here we were being granted a half hour with only us. We arrived early, in a state of excitement, and were ushered into an area where we were told to wait. People were everywhere — guards, confidants, supplicants — but they were kept away from our waiting area. Many minutes passed, and we realized our scheduled time had come and gone. I began to wonder whether we would be told, “Sorry, but he has run out of time for you.”