I remember sitting on wooden benches at the tables in the old Half Moon Dining Hall at Camp Mimanagish. At camp, we sang songs after every meal. Many of the songs had actions to accompany them. Singing together was a way of building community. A song that often showed up after breakfast was this:

Oh, the grand old Duke of York,
He had ten thousand men;
He marched them up the hill
And he marched them down again.

When you’re up, you’re up,
And when you’re down, you’re down,
And when you’re only halfway up,
You’re neither up nor down.

As we sang, we’d stand for “When you’re up, you’re up,” sit for “And when you’re down, you’re down,” and then quickly go halfway up, up and down as we sang the last two lines. The song would be repeated at a faster pace until we were singing too fast to complete the actions in time with the song. Then we’d all stop, panting and giggling. As much fun as it was to sing the song and go through the actions, it was even more fun to watch the other campers, especially the adults at family camp. I didn’t get very many opportunities to see my parents just being silly, but I treasured those times and they have a special place in my memory.

I didn’t know anything about the Royal Family in the United Kingdom, nor of who he current Duke of York might be. I didn’t know the duties or the Duke of York or how such a person could come to have command of ten thousand men. But I did know that the song was repetitive and that it seemed to be mocking repetitive and meaningless action.

I’ve lived most of my life thinking that much of the uniforms, medals, pomp, and ceremony of British Royals is about as meaningful as the children’s song. They go through the motions, but their actions belong to a former time and are reenacted as meaningless ceremony. Granted that judgement was made from a place of no direct knowledge.

Later, as a young adult, we did visit England. We saw the guards at Buckingham Palace and we watched the ceremony of the changing of the guard as tourists. The uniforms were showy, especially the tall shako hats. The guards maintained a stoicism and kept straight faces as they performed their duties. Quite frankly, however, they came off as a group of well trained actors more than as a crack military force.

When I sing The Grand Old Duke of York, I am not thinking of the grandeur of a sunset or the high mountains of the continental divide. I’m thinking of silly pompousness and overdone uniforms.

When I read that the Duke of York has returned all of his titles to the Queen and that he can no longer be referred to as “his royal highness,” it doesn’t seem like a big deal to me.

Prince Andrew, the second son of the Queen of England, is the defendant in a civil lawsuit here in the United States. The charge is that he sexually assaulted a woman when she was 17 years of age. The prince’s lawyers attempted to have the suit dismissed, citing a non-disclosure deal the victim signed with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. The judge in the case ruled that it could continue.

The charges are serious. There is nothing funny about the abuse of a young woman. There is significant evidence that Prince Andrew, Jeffrey Epstein and other rich and powerful men used their power and wealth to pursue inappropriate relationships with young women without regard for the physical and psychological damage that was occurring. Their actions have been labeled sex trafficking. Epstein associate Ghislaine Maxwell, has been found guilty of recruiting and trafficking underage girls to be sexually abused by Epstein and his associates. Prince Andrew was one of those associates who traveled on Epstein’s private jet, visited Epstein at his homes, and entertained Epstein in properties owned by the royal family.

Now, the Prince will appear in court and defend himself as a private citizen, without the titles and the potential diplomatic immunity they might carry. The fact that he was stripped of his titles is a sign that the Queen and other members of the royal family believe that there is merit to the charges that have been brought against him.

Rich and powerful men do some pretty terrible things. Occasionally, someone has the courage to stand up to them and hold them responsible.

I’m no lawyer and I have no inside information. I am in no position to make judgements of whether or not Andrew should have been stripped of his titles and I cannot predict the outcome of a lawsuit in which highly paid lawyers will argue technicalities of the law and exchanges of large amounts of money. I have no intention of following all of the legal wrangling and subsequent charges, counter charges and proceedings.

What I do know is that when wealth and power are abused the victims of the abuse are real. Their pain and suffering is real. Lawsuits and financial settlements cannot erase the pain of the victims. Some actions have permanent consequences. Assault can leave permanent scars.

I don’t know what consequences Andrew should face, but I believe that no person is above the law and that those who victimize others should be held responsible for their actions.

When I was a child, I somehow knew that the Grand Old Duke of York, wasn’t really grand. I knew that there was a kind of ridiculousness to the pomp of titles. I believed that no one should be able to control the behavior of ten thousand other people. It might have been a silly song, but it helped me to learn some important things about life. I wasn’t old enough to understand the nuances of the abuse of power, I just knew that some people take themselves way too seriously and a silly song worked to eliminate barriers between people.

Perhaps the real Duke of York didn’t have the opportunity to sing the song enough to learn that important lesson.