A little known fact about me

Elvis PresleyI was watching the news tonight and saw a story about people lined up in Memphis in memory of Elvis Presley who died 30 years ago today. It suddenly struck me that baby boomer's sometimes remember where they were when Elvis died.  But their parents know where they were when JFK died (I was three years old).

The day Elvis died, I was 17 years old and on vacation with my parents and two younger sisters in Bangkok, Thailand. It was late morning and we were on the riverbanks touring when a young newspaper boy ran up to us with a sack around his waist holding his newspapers for sale, yelling "Elvis died, Elvis died." He held up a newspaper for us to see, and the only thing we could read in English was the headine in huge bold letters, "ELVIS DEAD."

I cried. I loved Elvis, I loved his music. I grew up in the 60's playing Barbie dolls with two younger sisters, and we always fought over whose Ken doll got to be Elvis. Elvis was King, and he was a part of my history growing up in the South, mostly Mississippi, Florida and South Carolina (think Sweet Tea, Cornbread and Collard Greens). And it was traumatic to find out from someone who didn't speak English that he had died. My Dad didn't understand how I could be distraught over his death, someone I didn't even know. But all I could remember was playing Barbies with my sisters and swooning over whose doll was Elvis, our dreamy date, coveted future husband, and my last childhood wish for a knight in shining armor. And I will always remember where I was the day Elvis died.