The Groovy Agent's Pad

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Wednesday, August 16, 2006

8/16/77: Remembering the Day the King Died

It was my first day of high school, so to celebrate, I got to help mow the yard that evening. My dad was at work (at a coal mine), my sister (as usual) was inside watching tv (bear in mind, she had a huge crush on Elvis at this time, and I really dug him, too, but I didn't let her know that because I liked to tease her about it), so I was mowing and my mom was cutting weeds.

We were nearly finished when my sister came to the back door. She was hysterical. All she could say was "He's dead! He's dead!" My mom and I were scared, thinking she was talking about my dad, considering how dangerous his job was.

Mom was yelling, "Who's dead?", shook her and was almost ready to give her that "Snap out of it!" slap when my sister finally moaned, "Ellllviiiiiiiiiissss!"

I also remember at 11:30 one network had a special showing of Jailhouse Rock. We were given permission to stay up and watch it. My sister did; I went back to sleep. Next day, she got to stay home from school because she was so tired from staying up so late. I had to go, since I was bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

But I love both Elvis and my sister, anyway.


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