Where were you when Elvis died?
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I was only 7, but I can remember sitting on the floor in the living room of our little house when we all heard on the radio about Elvis Pressley’s death. I’d recently seen Kissing Cousins and had a tiny girlish crush on Elvis. To me he was so young, so cute. How could he be dead?
Of course, Elvis remained an icon in my life and in the word around me. Tomorrow will mark 30 years since Elvis died on August 16, 1977 from heart disease. He was 42. As I see it now, he actually was indeed quite young. I think that as we all look back and see the details that are forever emerging about his lifestyle and his substance abuse that it seems less surprising, almost a solemn fact more than anything else.
In fact, the Elvis that is such a strong part of our culture today is merely a characature of the man he must have really been.
I remember exactly where I was when I found out Elvis had died. I was riding bikes with my friend Christine. Her mom as an Elvis fanatic and had tickets to a show that was eventually canceled.
She was heartbroken.
My dad was from Mississippi…as a matter of fact, the real township where Elvis was born is called Mantachie, which is where dad was from.
When we went down south to visit dad’s relatives in Fulton and Tupelo, we would always visit ‘Elvis Presley Park’ which consisted of a merry go round (not a carousel, a swing set, a sand box and eventually a jungle gym.
It was in a rural area. That was about it.
Elvis and my dad had the same speech patterns. For a time there, I was confused and thought Elvis must be related to us somehow.
It was a strange feeling, knowing that someone who seemed like family to me was gone.
It was a really hot day, too as I remember.
The neighborhood was quiet. Hmmm. I should write about that day.
Thanks, Angie.