Kittie Howard

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Happy Birthday, Elvis!

Happy Birthday, Elvis! In my mind's eye, you look the same, still handsome, still rockin' and still swiveling.

Now, don't be offended, but I didn't know I was going to fall in love with you. Grade school was kinda young for that stuff. But, a bit later, oh, man, you got my hormones rockin'! Well, to be fair, the same thing happened to my girlfriends. We used to argue who would marry you, not that it was legal for girls our age to get married, except in Mississippi, where the legal age was 13. But, sigh, not in Louisiana, where we had to be 16. So we fantasized that, since Mississippi was close to Louisiana, you'd know we were Here and Somehow we'd end up in Mississippi, all married and happy. And to prove our loyalty, we turned the volume down real low when Pat Boone sang.

It didn't worry us girls one bit that you couldn't marry all of us. Because I knew, deep down, that once you saw Me, well, you wouldn't notice Melodie and Bitsy and the rest. And when Melodie announced, during a sleepover, that You were her True Love, I kept quiet, for I knew. That is, until Priscilla entered the picture. Sigh!

Okay, I'll admit it: I didn't know what jealousy was until you hooked up with Priscilla. I took your poster off my bedroom wall, rolled up your swiveling hips and stuck you and your pouty lips under my bed. On the other hand, Melodie ripped you off her wall, tore you into little pieces and stuffed you in the garbage can. Even her mom thought that was a bit much. She liked you. As did my mom. Maybe they even loved you. I don't know. Moms didn't talk much about love Back Then.

But, like Melodie and thousands - no, millions! - of others, I never stopped loving you. I love you today, your 75th birthday, as much as I ever did. And I keep your 78-RPM Christmas album nicely wrapped, in a box, in a chest where there's a copy of my marriage certificate. I'm sorry, Elvis, but it wouldn't have worked between us, not that way. But there are different kinds of love. And, when my husband and I went to Graceland some years ago, he fell into respect-love.

Our tour group started out happy and excited. By the time we exited your home and paid our individual respects before your grave, everyone was crying. We just couldn't help it. If the contributions you made to the music industry awed us, your creative genius muted us. And how you must have suffered, deep inside, pierced our hearts. We had grown up with you and hadn't known and silently wondered how this could have happened. I guess we were just all shook up with being young.
Those of you who'd like to take a pictorial trip to New Orleans (and environs), please visit (I subscribe via e-mail). Jolie's photos, with little or no comment, speak volumes and offer something for everyone.
I'm presently re-reading Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series and can't recommend it highly enough. Mr. Smith really is a philosopher. He writes about Life, through the most charming stories, and in the most entertaining, refreshing, feel-good way. You don't have ti read the stories in order, but I think it adds more to what you get out of the series. Enjoy! Enjoy! (His latest book is about London during WWII; I'm waiting for the paperback to add to my collection...hard to do, but won't be long.)
My Remarkable People series should return around Tuesday or Wednesday. And, what's up is a Feel-good angel! XOXO, Kittie

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