Elvis Presley: Aug. 16 Marks 39th Anniversary of Musician's Death
Presely, known as the "King of Rock 'n' Roll," is considered one of the most important cultural icons of the 20th century for his contributions to music. He died Aug. 16, 1977, at age 42.
I still recall the day vividly. When I was very small, about three-years-old, I went to an Elvis concert with my mother and her friends. OMG the screaming!! The women were jumping up and down and clapping. The screaming was terrifying; the clapping, since it was down at my ear level, was deafening. I recall looking down on the stage and thinking all the noise was for THIS? Lol. I tugged on my mum's arm, trying to get her to stop the clapping, but she did that same "shut up." that Darren MacGavin gave Ralphie in A Christmas Story. My ears were still ringing hours after we had left the concert!!! Needless to say, I did not become a fan of the King.
However, my dear (well, not so dear...lol) cousin did. She had Elvis on her walls. Had all his records. Elvis was her HERO. My god she loved him! And since she and I never got along too well -- she being older and not above tormenting me in various fashions -- I relished getting even with her. SHE had NEVER seen Elvis live. But I had ...lol. For fifteen years, anytime she tried to get the upper hand with me, I would just go nanabooboo ...I have seen him and you haven't. Naturally, she wanted to kill me. But that was the whole point. My gran called it "getting her goat", though I never really truly understood that adage ...lol.
So, then thirty-nine years ago, my "toy" was about to be snatched from me. Relations hadn't improved over the years. I still nanaboobooed every chance I got. And she still steamed. But THEN, Elvis was coming to her town and she got tickets. She had nattered on and on for weeks. SHE was going to SEE him!!!!
Well, fuuuuuuddddddddddddge!! There would go my ace up the sleeve!!!
The day came, and we happened to be travelling to go to the river, so I popped by. On the way, they announced Elvis had died, so obviously, the concert was cancelled. There sat my dear pain-in-the-butt cousin, with her two second row seats to see Elvis and he just did the unthinkable -- died!!!
It fell to me to break the news to her. She was in her room, teasing her platinum blonde hair, when I rushed in full of tides of his passing. She looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of ears. She informed me that I was a total dud as a cousin, but she accepted that shortcoming, but to sink to this low level and lie about Elvis dying just to spite her was despicable. She swooped up her two tickets, and was about to go out –– totally turning a deaf ear to my ravings about the King being dead –– when the news broke into the programming on the television and carried the news.
There she was in her bubble-headed Barbie hairstyle and no place to go ...sort of like Marty Robbins and his pink carnation.
I think, as she stares longingly at her tickets, now framed on the wall, that she hates me very still thirty-nine years later.