Remembering Elvis

I will always remember August 16, 1977.  I had stayed overnight at my grandparents' house, and was waiting for my parents to come and pick me up that evening.  It was a warm summer day, and my grandmother was outside in the backyard putting freshly washed clothes out on the line. My grandparents always had a radio going in the kitchen, and when I came into the kitchen I heard the news report that Elvis Presley had died. I ran out into the backyard to tell my grandmother the shocking news, and as I told her, the neighbour next door overheard, and exclaimed "oh, my!".  I felt very sad, and remembered the last concert of Elvis I had watched on television, and how sick he had looked. I was ten years old.

I am now 53, and I still love Elvis Presley. My kids have grown up knowing my silly fangirl tendencies about a man who has been dead and gone for 43 years.  My friends have blessed me with Elvis albums from their parents collections, and my brother has given me Elvis barbies, and Elvis Potato Heads ('68 Special, and White Vegas Jumpsuit models). I sit bleary eyed many mornings, because I had come across an Elvis movie on television at midnight, and have to see it through. To me, there will never be another Elvis Presley.  And, well, Elvis just makes me happy.  

Sometimes, Elvis will sneak his way into my work.  I love to make cards with Elvis on them, and they are a very popular item at the craft shows that I do.  This weekend I am going to be at a show at the Norwood Legion here in Edmonton.  I will have a few of my Elvis cards for sale.