Wish you were here.

April 2010

Dear Kelly,

We’re on a tour of Graceland, near Memphis, in Tennessee. I have been thinking of you the whole time I have been here seeing Elvis’ house and reliving his songs and films at the various museums that showcase all of his awards, movie posters, records and other memorabilia. You would love it here. I wish you were here!

Do you remember that summer when we were around twelve or thirteen years old, when we spent one entire week in August on the anniversary of his passing, glued to the TV, watching rerun after rerun of every Elvis film ever made? Even now, when I see an Elvis movie advertised or hear an old recording of one of his songs, I think back to that great summer, before we had jobs, when it was okay to have absolutely nothing to do.

Remember how corny those movies were? Remember how Elvis always played the poor “hard-done-by” boy? He was uncommonly handsome and we were in love! In the movies, do you recall how he always succeeded despite some major adversity and how he always won the love of the scantily-clad, beautiful leading lady? We’d be pie-eyed from watching back-to-back movies during the long, hot summer days when Mom was at work. Where was Kevin? I think that was the summer he went to sailing camp but, if not, I don’t remember what he did while we hogged the TV all day, do you?

We’d study the TV guide, looking ahead to see what movies were coming up, circling our favourites, so we wouldn’t miss them for sure. I’m always trying to explain to the kids how there were no DVDs in those days, so you could only watch a show on TV when it was scheduled to be shown. It was even before VCR machines, so you couldn’t tape a show and watch it later. Do you remember that time I wanted to watch The Unsinkable Molly Brown, which aired at two in the morning? My crying, when it concluded at half past four woke up Mom, who thought something horrible had happened!

That’s what it was like, though, right? I mean, you just had to watch a show when it was being shown, no matter what time of day or night. So, that’s why the anniversary of Elvis’ passing was sad but also kind of fun: they showed three or four Elvis movies a day for a whole week! Had he lived, he would have been about three times our age that summer, when we stretched out on the carpet, plumped up on the sofa pillows, and got lost in his silly movies! But the beauty of those pictures is that they captured The King at his prime, when his body was still lithe, his skin clear, his eyes seductive and his hair black as night.

Graceland is a wonderful showcase for Elvis’ remarkable recording, acting and touring career. But, it is bittersweet because everywhere you are reminded that his life was cut short. There are no pictures of him as a middle-aged man, nor as an old man, as he would be now. There are no pictures of him attending his daughter’s graduation or walking her down the aisle when she got married. His hair didn’t go grey and he didn’t need glasses. He’s captured in time as a young man. His stories are finite, like yours. They just ended suddenly one day. It’s like a book whose final chapters were ripped out and thrown away. You just never know how it might have ended. I sure wish you were here.

Signed,
Your loving sister