Mom had already decided for me. Which was a habit for her, as I was only 15 at the time. She and her two sisters had decided they would buy concert tickets for themselves, me and my cousin, Julie. I was not amused. I was too cool for school.
“I’m not going. You can’t make me”. “I DONT WANT TO GO!!” “I’m not going”. *mom smiled her knowing smile*
In the car and all the way there, My mom’s older sister driving, my cousin in the passenger seat front and in the back: me between my mom and her younger sister, Vickie. “Ooo ooo ooo, I’m going to see Elvis! Ooo ooo oo0, I’m going to see Elvis!” My aunt Vic said over and over all the way there. I think she was looking forward to it *I’m just spit-balling here*.
Fast-forward to us sitting in the sort of nose-bleeds at stage right. My aunt Vic still chanting her mantra, my mom unusually stoic and me rolling my eyes with my fifteen year old bad attitude.
Cue music: Ta dun taaaa…..tad dun taaaaa! *You’re no doubt familiar with his entrance music* He struts his cool self from stage left “Oh C CC Rider, Oh see what you have done…..” As soon as he hit the stage, my mom bursted from her stoic-ness “HERE I AM!!! HERE I AM!!! It’s a wonder I’m not deaf. *oh sure mom, I thought, he’s so going to hear you, walk right up here to you and carry you away to live Elvis-ly ever after* *bless your heart* (which is Southern for): “you dummy*
He was over-weight, way too pale…….and he was wonderful. His voice was in it’s all-Elvis glory. He sang and strode with the same cool cockiness as he did when performing Hound Dog in his youth.
At the point where he started to hand out scarves which he pulled from around his neck, wiped his perspiration with them and throws them into the screaming, jumping up and down all-femle audience … my cousin Julie and I decided we had to have one of those scarves!
We made our way down from the bleacher seats, made our way around the back of the floor audience, smoothly made out way past the velvet ropes and straight up to the stage. We made it pretty much all the way up (about 5 feet near the stage) and were raising our hands for the scarves. *”Us! Us! Us!”* Alas, before The King could make it back to that part of the stage, security guards were there to ask us to please get back to our seats. I was dejected, felt horrible. Just as I was getting into the whole spirit of the event, security guards! *the nerve of them!* Pffft!
I don’t need to tell you, or anyone else on the planet how the rest of the concert went. You’ve all seen the videos, heard the records, seen the movies and many, many of you were lucky enough to attend one of his concerts too!
At this time I’d like to take the opportunity to say “Thank you, Mom”. You not only provided me with an unforgettable experience of a lifetime, the first concert of my life ever, but you also gave me the best bragging rights of my concert-going career: “Elvis was my first”.
Wish I had been smart enough to keep the ticket!
Lovingly tendered and dedicated to my late Mother Mary Jo, my Aunt Vicki and to my BFF Jolean who is quite literally the biggest Elvis fan.