ELVIS = LIVES

In 1987, while driving from L.A. to my new life in New York, my dasboard power light started flashing shortly outside of Texas. I stopped at a garage in Alabama and they diagnosed that my alernator was failing. They also informed me that it would take them days to get that part for my VW Rabbit. My best bet was to get to Memphis, so they charged up my car battery and pushed me downhill toward Tennessee.

As it turns out, I spent a memorable weekend in Memphis. My hotel was just down the street from where Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot, which was odd. I couldn’t afford Graceland, but I visited the gift shop and bought a set of Elvis placemats.

Today, I am merely passing through Memphis and (knock on wood) my car is just fine. As much as I’d love to, I cannot take the time now either to visit Graceland, which is a double shame because I learned from the gentleman below that this is Elvis Week. As he explained “This is the week we celebrate Elvis’ death!” (I suggested that “commemorate” might be a better choice of words; after a moment’s pause, he agreed.)

I ran into Elvis at the Patsy Cline & Chet Atkins Memorial Rest Stop, found here: http://www.schmap.me/6wdnzt