When my aunt died seven years ago, the song that was chosen as the final offering at her memorial service was Frank Sinatra‘s, “I did it my way“. I’m not sure that it was inappropriate, but certainly unusual. My aunt never married and had a PhD in physical education. For almost 40 years she was the Athletic Director at a small liberal arts college in Central New York State. She led an interesting life and pretty much did things her own way. She never married and never had any long-term housemates that I am aware of. She was much loved by staff, faculty and her students, but very independent. She enjoyed cold weather and circumnavigated the globe five times, three times around the Arctic and twice around Antarctica, each trip being taken on a Russian nuclear powered icebreaker. But then that was my aunt. “I did it my way” very much described the manner in which she lived her life. It just felt right and was appreciated by those who attended the service, most of whom were other academic peers.

When we interred her ashes in the family plot in Western Pennsylvania, we included the famous quote by admiral Grace Hopper to the effect, “It is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.“ It described her philosophy of life to a T. An incident from the mid 50s illustrates this perfectly.

My aunt accepted a job teaching female Indian elementary school teachers for a year in India. Rather than flying, which was a bit unusual anyway at the time, she took a boat from the States to England and then a series of trains across the continent to her final destination. During her journey, she spent a couple of days in London. One Saturday afternoon, she decided to walk from her hotel to Buckingham Palace to view the changing of the guard. Along the way, it started raining. She immediately ducked into the first doorway she could find which was opened by an elegant, well dressed gentleman, who showed her into the foyer. He asked her if there was anything she would like. She said a cup of tea would be nice. He guided her into the sitting room and brought her tea. A couple of minutes later another well dressed gentleman appeared and asked her what he could do for her. She replied that the man who had met her at the door had been so kind to give her a cup of tea and she very much appreciated the English hospitality. The new gentleman then asked her if they knew each other. She looked at him, thought for a moment, and said I don’t think so. He then introduced himself as the Duke of Wales, and informed her that this was his private residence. It turned out to be Clarence House. Apparently, Queen Elizabeth was off elsewhere doing royal things that afternoon and the Duke was alone . The two of them had an enjoyable conversation and the Duke invited her back the next day. She returned and apparently they spent a pleasant afternoon talking. You can imagine the surprise of my grandparents in receiving a letter describing the incident. But then that was my aunt. She certainly did it her way.