8.16.2018

Rambling over morning coffee: August 16, 1977 - The Day Elvis Died and My Memory of It

Presley in a publicity photo for the film The Trouble with Girls, released September 1969

I'm sitting here with my coffee (ok, my third... wait, is it my fourth cup?) and although I was reading the news, I was trying to pick through it because most of it was trash and I've found that reading a lot of political editorials masquerading as 'news' just irritates me anymore.  This led me to read other news... things that would raise my blood pressure or make me hate humanity.

And that is when I saw that today, August 16, is the anniversary of the death of Elvis.

I was too little to know who he was or really, even to understand (or care) but I knew his music because my Dad would sing it in the car or truck when we would go somewhere.  Drives to my Grandma's house would involve him singing Elvis songs but also, I remember him singing "Wake up Little Susie" "Catch a Falling Star" and "Yes, My Darling Daughter".  I knew of Elvis' songs even if I didn't know who he was.

Even though I was so young, I do remember the day Elvis died.


When word spread like wildfire that Elvis had died, I had been playing down the street with a friend.  I had just finished playing and was walking home when the door of the house next door opened and a neighbor boy a little bit older than I stuck his head out and yelled, "Hey!  Elvis just died!"  I'm not sure he was yelling it o me; perhaps he was just yelling it out the door in general to do his part to announce to the world the death of 'the king of rock and roll'? 

But I remember his little blonde head sticking out through the open screen door and yelling it.  I continued up my own driveway and into the house, where I saw my Mom was crying.  The radio was on and the DJ kept talking about the death of Elvis and they played Elvis songs all day and night.

That's it.  That's my memory.

The image in my head was glancing at the little boy who yelled it out the door and then looking down at my feet and bare legs and watching them as they hit the concrete as I continued walking up the street to my house. 




.... it's just the coffee talking again.








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