Thursday - so random
Good morning!

Everybody, let's rock!

I can't imagine Elvis at 75 years old -- that's almost as old as my dad!  Indeed, they're only 8 months apart.  Elvis died when he was 42 -- on my dad's 42nd birthday.  I was with my dad that day and learned of Elvis's death -- it was one of those things, one of those days, the circumstances seared into my brain for life!

Anyway, I'm not a must-visit-Graceland-someday Elvis fan, but I've been a fan ever since I saw the 1968 Comeback Special.  That's my kind of show -- intimate, easy-going, funny -- leather.  I'm sure that an Elvis release was among my first Christmas album purchases (and, yes, it was an album... as in vinyl... LP record), along with Johnny Mathis and Barbra Streisand, part of the indispensible chorus that makes my Christmas.

Note: I prefer the original, black-and-white version of Jailhouse Rock, but it was squishy.  It's one thing to be 75, another to be squished.



Never was much of an Elvis fan, but I do like some of his early stuff. I'm waiting to hear how you liked Play it Loud, because it's next in our queue.


I was always a bit . . . meh. . . about Elvis. But I distinctly remember where I was and what I was doing - and with whom - when I heard he had died (I was 18. 'Nuf said about that.) When it comes to Elvis songs, though, my favorite is "A Little Less Conversation."


You know what I'm freaked out about? He was ten years younger than I am now when he died. How'd that happen? He seemed like an old, sorry hanger-on barely recognizeable as that gorgeous '50s Elvis. Shocked I tell you - I so was not ready to end it all ten years ago (or probably 50 years from now), so it makes it all the more a melancholy thing.

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