It was one of those moments when you say something you know you shouldn't. But I couldn't help myself. I was fourteen and still in the throes of teenage-girl-smart-ass disease.
28 years ago today, I was sitting in the backyard listening to the radio when I heard the news. I went inside and found my mother in her room, making her bed.
"Hey, mom. Guess you won't be going to that Elvis concert next week."
"What?"
"He's dead."
I may have snickered, I don't know.
Mom ran into the bathroom and turned on the little radio she kept in there. I remember the voice. I remember the exact sound of the tinny, staticy voice that relayed the news to my mother in a much softer way than I did.
Elvis was dead.
My mother's eyes filled with tears and despair while her face registered only that small "o" one's mouth makes when they hear shocking news. That "o" stayed there for a while, but the despair in her eyes had become hard and angry. She was pissed at me.
How could I have told her like that, knowing that she idolized Elvis in a pure, passionate way? How could I do that? What kind of daughter was i?
Well, I was fourteen. That's my only excuse.
I was a fourteen year old whose mother made fun of her own idolization of another self-obsessed, overly dramatic singer who similarly became a bloated replica of himself. And later, dead and bloated. Maybe it was my way of evening up the score.
My mother had this friend Noreen. Noreen was the largest woman I ever knew. Not just heavy large, but tall and wide and her hair was piled up on her head so she looked even taller. Her voice roared even when she whispered and her sneezes were legend in the neighborhood, said to be heard from at least three blocks away. She wore mumus and housecoats and tons of hairspray and sometimes she wore an ugly fur coat that made her look like a small woodland creature was nesting on her shouler.
Article comments
1 - Jones Viiolet
Absolutely wonderful article, Michele1! I think I may have snickered a little too while reading this.
2 - Nancy
Terrific characterization of Noreen, VERY lively! Good post.
Elvis. I tried to like him, I really did, but I just couldn't. In the end he was still smarmy, tacky, & a redneck, w/greasy hair. I think his fans have much to be grateful for, that he died young; they wouldn't have liked a geriatric Elvis much, I don't think.
3 - Mike
I wasn't alive when Elvis was; I'm also a heterosexual male. And yet I still love Elvis blindly and think he's possibly the greatest singer to ever commit his voice to tape. Still, I really, really loved this post.
4 - wallybangs
You must have been one of those older teenagers that flipped me and my mother off when we visiting the birthplace of Elvis back in 1978. :)
Great post!!
5 - Temple Stark
Music Editor Temple Stark picked this for an Editor's Pick of the Week. Go find out why HERE.
Thank you.
6 - pia savage
That was wonderful. A great mommy/daughter story.
I'm older than you and never understood Elvis's attraction, until I got the early Sun sessions. Then I finally understood
7 - Gaylee
I have often wondered why so many straight men so idolize and worship Elvis.
Oh, I idolize and worship him, but I'm a straight female. And I can see why a gay man might love him. He was, after all the epitome of male beauty.
But what is it with straight men, or otherwise straight men, who go on and on about his good looks, his voice, etc?
Not that I'm complaining.