Or as I like to call him, Uncle Elvis… Let me tell you my Elvis story…
On July 24, 1976 I was able to attend an Elvis concert in Charleston, West Virginia.
That is my picture of him from the audience. We had the most random seats. Ma was sitting with (I cannot remember who) off by themselves. Dad and I were “together” as in, I was in a seat and he was in the seat behind me. So, it was almost like seeing Elvis by myself. I was between two older women who competed over my attention (each bought me a soda, a snack, let me look through their binoculars). But he sang and my heart thrilled at the occasion.
When we returned home from the concert, I was high on entertainment. My thought process must have been along the lines of: I want to be a part of that life. I am a good kid. I bet Elvis would like me. Heck, I KNOW he would like me. I bet he would adopt me if I asked. Well, I love Ma and Daddy, so adoption would be out of it. But he could be my uncle. I know he would like to be my uncle. Well, no one knows any better. Elvis is now my uncle.
And with the power of confidence, you can own the world. NOPE…I was laughed right off of the playground. There was no one at Scarbro Elementary who believed that line of bull. UNTIL… Ma got the pictures developed at the photo mat that used to be in the parking lot of the old Raleigh Mall (right around Stone N Thomas’ entrance). And I asked if I could take one to school with me to show my friends. And so, even though I am NOT in this photo, I showed the kids and told them:”See, I have pictures, this proves he is my uncle.” I was hit with a line of questioning: Who’s brother is he? My Dad’s. Why does no one know about it in the neighborhood? Easy, Dad isn’t famous like Elvis and he keeps it low key, he doesn’t want anyone to know. And, with photo (not so) evidence and not breaking under the grilling I took – I was able to convince my classmates that yes, Elvis was my uncle. And the next day, just like Doug the Dog, a squirrel came along and my attention shifted and never returned…until…
The Jones kid I went to school with went home and told her parents. Her dad was friends with Daddy. Mr Jones mentioned to Daddy at the post office, “I never knew you were related to Elvis.” “Whaaat?”
I was punished for that one. In retrospect I get it. But holy hell was I mad at the Jones kid. It might have come to fisticuffs at some point. But that is another story.
When Husband and I got married, I saw this guy:
It made me miss Uncle Elvis and wonder about the amazing music that could have been.
Happy Birthday E, you woulda been 82 today. Or maybe you ARE 82…there are a ton of conspiracy theories out there…. Love ya either way. Do me a favor and sing Love Me Tender for Ma, she always loved that one.
And here are a few pictures of Elvis for your viewing pleasure:
I love it! What a beautiful story. I think as a kid you could be forgiven for wanting Elvis as your uncle.
Thank you! I was 8… It is fascinating what I thought I could get away with.
Kids are known to tell tall tales. Probably good that your parents ‘punished’ you but I bet they were secretly laughing.
Once when I was a VERY little girl, I remember sitting on the porch one summer night – when some long-haired young men came by and (with fake Liverpool accents) told me they were The Beatles From England. For most of my childhood I believed I had actually met The Beatles. The adults did not reprimand me too much when I told the tale. Finally I figured it our for myself. No way in hell would the actual Beatles be walking down my street. (Or were they…?) Haha! Hope you had a great Elvis birthday 🙂