Driving down Elvis Presley Boulevard, I am struck by how odd it feels to quietly cruise by his home, Graceland. It is much smaller than I ever imagined - and so visible from the street. This is certainly something that would never be afforded to today's paparazzi hounded celebrities. In fact, with a good pair of binoculars, one can see straight into the bathroom! I imagine back in the days, that this area was not so flooded by businesses and residences and that he may have enjoyed some form of privacy when he had time to himself.
It got me thinking about how the celebrity homes where I live are shrouded by trees, impervious to a camera or disruption of privacy of any kind. Interesting.
When you step into one of the 100's of gift stores, it is as though time stands still. The day Elvis died, every part of his life was memorialized. It feels almost ghoulish to see his image in every commercial form; for sale to anyone who will pull out their wallet for a piece of his life. In a strange way, it makes you laugh. I mean, Elvis bobbleheads, toothbrushes, Beanie Babies, toilet brushes, tattoos,... the list is endless. I looked for the tackiest thing I could find and I think the hip shaking Elvis, complete with window sucker, was right up there... so I sprung $8.99 plus 9.25% Tennessee sales tax to take this baby home for my husband.
And then you look around and feel great sadness at the prostitution of this reverent man's life in such a degrading fashion. I know it rakes in MILLIONS of dollars and tourists to the city of Memphis every year. And I suppose it allows the sustainability of his legend to reign longer than one could ever imagine, but what about his daughter Lisa Marie or even his grandchildren? It just seems so strange to me. And I can't quite put my finger on it. Something about it just feels wrong.
I was struck when I heard his song, "In the Ghetto," loudly playing at the drop off center. This soulful voice telling a truthful story of life in his (and still in my) time. What a gifted vocalist. And I felt such awe when I saw the people who had come to capture a moment in time with someone they obviously worshiped and adored. He was immensely popular, there is no doubt about that. I becomes very clear just why.
I shut my eyes and said a prayer for the gift of his life and it was enough. What a blessing to us all he was.
1 comment:
I remember the day he died. It was within days of our dog dying and my mom was in tears for days and didn't leave her room. I knew who he was, but I didn't know why she was so sad about a man she didn't know. Your description takes me back to that day and now, with maturity, I get it. He touched all of our lives in a way that few have. He was "the King."
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