January 8 is the birthday of Elvis Presley, and wherever he is in the universe, today he would be (is?) ninety years old. I’ve written about the King before, but it’s worth pausing to imagine his gyrating hips at such an advanced age. Perhaps it’s best that he left our world when he did, so that we don’t have to witness his forever farewell concert tour like so many other rock and rollers who never seem to die, or at least to quit. Fortunately though, we will always have Keith Richards and Willie Nelson. As great as they are, though, Elvis, the King of Rock and Roll, still rules.
I’ve made my pilgrimage to Graceland, like so many faithful, and I’m sure the is still, as there was when I was there, an aging big-haired woman prostrate and crying at his graveside, not knowing the King still lives, if perhaps not among us.
