Summer of 1977

This day 42 years ago today was hot and muggy. I, along with my brother, was helping my cousins paint their greenhouses in Eminence, Kentucky. There are things I hate more than painting and the summer of 77 is a big reason why. It was later in the day when my cousin came out of the house, tears in her eyes, to tell us Elvis had died.

Everything stopped. Painting for the day was over as we all crowded around the old tv set watch the breaking news. My dad came to pick up my brother and I and we didn’t work the next day either.

The death of Elvis in our family was HUGE. He was only 42 years old and his life had spiraled out of control. On a personal note, it was sad for us as we had tickets to see him in Indianapolis in only a few weeks.

Elvis and I have the same birthday, January 8th, though he is much older than I am. Yet I’ve lived 14 years longer than him.

God bless Elvis. Spin one of his songs today. I know I have.

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