The calendar just went by the 16th of August a couple of days ago, marking the 39th anniversary of Elvis Presley’s passing.
Believe or not, I know where I was when I heard the news, three weeks before my sixth birthday. My parents took a couple of friends on a fishing trip down to Sarasota. As we headed back up to Largo, word of Presley’s passing broke on the radio in the late afternoon.
I really wasn’t too sure who Elvis was other than a guy who liked to sing, and why his death shocked everybody. The more everyone tried to explain it to me, the less I understood. The concept of someone dying in the prime of their life and maybe the concept of death itself, I didn’t get that also. When you’re almost six, you think you’re going to live forever. Not always the case.
Then again, I was only five years old. Some things are a bit complicated when you’re that young, and that’s okay.
Going to Graceland, that’s on my bucket list.