F

was still trying to get him to hurry up.

One afternoon in April 2016, the two of us took a helicopter from the
American ambassador’s residence in London to Windsor Castle in the countryside
west of the city. Our advance team instructed us that the Queen and Prince
Philip were planning to meet us when we landed and then personally drive us
back to the castle for lunch. As was always the case, we were briefed on the
protocol ahead of time: We’d greet the royals formally before getting into their
vehicle to make the short drive. I’d sit in the front next to ninety-four-year-old
Prince Philip, who would drive, and Barack would sit next to the Queen in the
backseat.

It would be the first time in more than eight years that the two of us had
been driven by anyone other than a Secret Service agent, or ridden in a car
together without agents. This seemed to matter to our security teams, the same
way the protocol mattered to the advance teams, who fretted endlessly over our
movements and interactions, making sure that every last little thing looked right
and went smoothly.

After we’d touched down in a field on the palace grounds and said our
hellos, however, the Queen abruptly threw a wrench into everything by
gesturing for me to join her in the backseat of the Range Rover. I froze, trying
to remember if anyone had prepped me for this scenario, whether it was more
polite to go along with it or to insist that Barack take his proper seat by her side.

The Queen immediately picked up on my hesitation. And was having none
of it.

“Did they give you some rule about this?” she said, dismissing all the fuss
with a wave of her hand. “That’s rubbish. Sit wherever you want.”

or me, giving commencement speeches was an important, almost sacred
springtime ritual. Each year I delivered several of them, choosing a mix of high
school and college ceremonies, focusing on the sorts of schools that normally
didn’t land high-profile speakers. (Princeton and Harvard, I’m sorry, but you’re
fine without me.) In 2015, I’d gone back to the South Side of Chicago to speak
at the graduation at King College Prep, the high school from which Hadiya
Pendleton would have graduated had she lived long enough. Her spirit was
commemorated at the ceremony by an empty chair, which her classmates had