This past weekend marked the thirty-second anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley. Now, I’m not a big fan, but he was huge. And not just literally (boo!). Seriously, I’ve heard it convincingly argued that for the fifties generation of kids, he was bigger than, say, Michael Jackson and Madonna combined. Huge.
Strangely, I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. I was only nine, I think, and our family was on vacation in Lake George, New York. We rented a cabin right on the lake, right in the middle of woods. My whole family was there. During the day we would swim off a dock or go row-boating or speed-boating, and at night we all would get together for massive barbecue cookouts. My father was huge, too.
I spent a lot of time playing with my little green army soldiers that weekend. I had them all enlisted in a top-secret organization called MAP – Monster / Alien Patrol. They’d spend their days fighting tree-banch monsters on the rocky scarps of the fireplace and hunt for alien body bones among the burnt-out coals and calcified marshmallow remains. My brother and I also busied ourselves burying treasure and making maps on the back of paper plates so that the next year we’d find it. While finishing one such map, we noticed a humongous dent in the side of my father’s Volare. The perpetrator generously left a note on the windshield with his information; we rushed into the cabin to tell my father and that’s when we all heard of Elvis’ death on the news.
My wife is a big Elvis fan. Well, big for her generation, that is. Which means she catches the old movies on TCM when she can and has seen them all enough to know plots, songs, characters. She may or may not have any Elvis CDs; I’m not sure. I think I’ve seen an Elvis Presley Christmas gospel CD floating around, as well as a compilation of his Number One hits. And she still, to this day, curses the name of Colonel Tom Parker.
So now it’s time to pass the torch.
Last Sunday, in honor of the big man’s life, TCM had a marathon of Elvis movies, maybe ten or twelve of them. We started watching just after lunch and continued to after the girls’ bed time. I can’t believe I watched two full Elvis movies and half of two more. We sat through Jailhouse Rock, Fun in Acupulco, Girl Happy, and It Happened at the World Fair. I was surprised to find myself enjoying the King in his sveltness, watching him strive, sometimes painfully, to improve his craft. I’d toss out one-liners here and there about friend banana sandwiches and ’Scilla, and ducking kicks from my wife.
The most amazing thing, though, was how much the Little One got into the whole experience. Elvis, or “Alvis,” as she consistently called him innocently enough, kept her riveted to the screen. She’d dance with him during those impromptu beach party sing-a-longs. She’d want to know why this guy was being mean to Alvis, or why Alvis was being mean to that guy (during Jailhouse Rock). Why is Alvis doing this, why is Alvis doing that? Does Alvis like this girl or that one? Why is that girl ignoring Alvis if he likes her? And on and on and on. All this from the Little One, raised on High School Musical. It amazed me how much these old movies and old songs had her hanging enthusiastically. As it does when she requests we put on Sound of Music or The King and I on the CD player. Perhaps there’s hope for the HSM generation yet.
Who knows, but I definitely foresee a couple of Alvis DVDs on my daughter’s bookshelf in the next couple of months …
Strangely, I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. I was only nine, I think, and our family was on vacation in Lake George, New York. We rented a cabin right on the lake, right in the middle of woods. My whole family was there. During the day we would swim off a dock or go row-boating or speed-boating, and at night we all would get together for massive barbecue cookouts. My father was huge, too.
I spent a lot of time playing with my little green army soldiers that weekend. I had them all enlisted in a top-secret organization called MAP – Monster / Alien Patrol. They’d spend their days fighting tree-banch monsters on the rocky scarps of the fireplace and hunt for alien body bones among the burnt-out coals and calcified marshmallow remains. My brother and I also busied ourselves burying treasure and making maps on the back of paper plates so that the next year we’d find it. While finishing one such map, we noticed a humongous dent in the side of my father’s Volare. The perpetrator generously left a note on the windshield with his information; we rushed into the cabin to tell my father and that’s when we all heard of Elvis’ death on the news.
My wife is a big Elvis fan. Well, big for her generation, that is. Which means she catches the old movies on TCM when she can and has seen them all enough to know plots, songs, characters. She may or may not have any Elvis CDs; I’m not sure. I think I’ve seen an Elvis Presley Christmas gospel CD floating around, as well as a compilation of his Number One hits. And she still, to this day, curses the name of Colonel Tom Parker.
So now it’s time to pass the torch.
Last Sunday, in honor of the big man’s life, TCM had a marathon of Elvis movies, maybe ten or twelve of them. We started watching just after lunch and continued to after the girls’ bed time. I can’t believe I watched two full Elvis movies and half of two more. We sat through Jailhouse Rock, Fun in Acupulco, Girl Happy, and It Happened at the World Fair. I was surprised to find myself enjoying the King in his sveltness, watching him strive, sometimes painfully, to improve his craft. I’d toss out one-liners here and there about friend banana sandwiches and ’Scilla, and ducking kicks from my wife.
The most amazing thing, though, was how much the Little One got into the whole experience. Elvis, or “Alvis,” as she consistently called him innocently enough, kept her riveted to the screen. She’d dance with him during those impromptu beach party sing-a-longs. She’d want to know why this guy was being mean to Alvis, or why Alvis was being mean to that guy (during Jailhouse Rock). Why is Alvis doing this, why is Alvis doing that? Does Alvis like this girl or that one? Why is that girl ignoring Alvis if he likes her? And on and on and on. All this from the Little One, raised on High School Musical. It amazed me how much these old movies and old songs had her hanging enthusiastically. As it does when she requests we put on Sound of Music or The King and I on the CD player. Perhaps there’s hope for the HSM generation yet.
Who knows, but I definitely foresee a couple of Alvis DVDs on my daughter’s bookshelf in the next couple of months …
1 comment:
well hopper, that one brought back memories. One of my best vacations ever. i remember the star filled nights on the boathouse roof, "rocked" by the King's passing, listening non-stop to Billy Joel's The Entertainer, Ballad of Billy the Kid and ANgry Young Man, and lastly, going to the pay phone with a fistful of coins to console Joey Dionisio who lost his girlfriend in a car accident. Other than that---good times.
Uncle
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