Or at least a resemble facsimile of him did at a party I went to last weekend.
I remember the day when Elvis died. August 16, 1977.
I’m not sure why his death made such an impression on me, I didn’t listen to his music and no one in family did either. I never saw him in Vegas and no one in my family did either. Of course back in 1977 when he died, my parents were both working with three children (we weren’t quite teenagers yet) to feed, clothe and educate.
I always thought Elvis was so old, but when he died he was 42 years old. Now, that to me doesn’t seem all that old. Amazing how time can alter one’s perspective!
Michael Jackson was more my contemporary. I watched the Jackson 5 cartoons, remembered them being on American Band Stand on Saturday afternoons, had the albums and watched all the videos.
In college, we danced to Thriller. I even wore black loafers and learned to moon dance. Of course I never did have the silver glove. Ironically however, I have no idea where I was or when Michael Jackson died. Not a clue.
But Elvis I do remember. His death made a big impression on me as a child. I think that day in August out on the beach with my friends soaking up the sun and listening to the radio is significant because Elvis was the first ‘celebrity’ I knew of that had died; somehow his death caste a pall over our summer days. It seemed like that’s all anyone talked about for days.
Years later, at my first ‘real’ job (you know where you have a 401K and health care!) I met a woman who went to Elvis’s grave every single year in pilgrimage.
At the time I thought that strange, I mean why bother! It’s not as if she knew him, but as I watched Elvis at the neighborhood party and how we all laughed and cheered, I thought why not. He obviously gave much to his fans through his music and people after all these years still make those pilgrimages to Graceland. And this impersonator who I am sure was born way after Elvis had passed had found away to spread some of that Elvis love.
Hi I have just discovered your various blogs. I was hunting down the Marcy Tilton skirt/pants pattern and found your lovely piece about it. Really enjoyed your honest recount! And the mustard cardigan with black spots is great. Are you a knitter? Look forward to reading more.
Hi Kate, Thank you for the comment. Regarding knitting, I never did learn to knit. My mother knitted and so did my aunt but it was just not something I ever picked up on for whatever reason. Funny story – my mother used to knit leper bandages. She would knit them out of this white cotton yarn (almost like string) and they would be about two to three inches wide and really, really, really long. My friends would always comment about my mother knitting scarves and I would just let the comment pass. Ironically, no one ever asked me why I didn’t wear one of my mother’s knitted ‘scarves’.