Some Thoughts on the Passing of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II   Well, first of all, I never met her. Never even came close, so far as I'm aware. If she was ever in line next to me at Whole Foods or if we were ever waiting for a flight in the same gate at the Albuquerque Sunport it managed to escape my notice. I detected no scrums of corgi dogs tearing about, no Gentlemen At Arms whispering into their lapels. She liked to keep things pretty low key, it is said, like not sporting the crown or waving a scepter about unless circumstance specifically called for it.    As has been pointed out in these pages on prior occasion(s), I am an unreconstructed and unrepentant Anglophile. I cannot say with any specificity quite how this came to be, but at some point—far, far back in my days as a wee lad in New Orleans—something about our cousins across the pond tweaked my fancy. The most likely scenario is that it began with the Beatles, of whom I became enamored while still in my grade school years.