I stretched lazily, enjoying the comfort of my nightly resting place. Oh, that sounds like a reverse vampire. Anyway I prepared to snuggle down for another couple of hours. It was only seven in the morning. Middle of the night to me. I’m retired.
I was just sinking into blissful slumber when suddenly my eyes sprang open. There was something I was supposed to do. The date! What date is today! I reached out for my phone, knocking it completely of the side of my bed and under it. Now trying to find your phone in the dark, didn’t enter my head to turn on the Big Light – remember that term from your Mum and Dad.
“Hey, turn on the Big Light!”
Also blind as a bat, no glasses on, I scrabbled about, nearly dislocating my shoulder. Got it at last, wee bugger, switched it on and clicked. 16th August! 16th August! I was travelling to London to go to The Elvis/ Graceland experience. Had been so looking forward to this since April. I had booked tickets and plane fares twice and twice I had taken ill, unable to go. It was going to be so emotional for me and the myriads of Elvis fans around the country. I had been given the absolute privilege of being able to hold his belt, microphone and sunglasses in my unworthy hands. I was overawed and very nervous. All senses now fully functional, I dived out of my comfort, showered and dressed awaiting my lift. One son, Jason drove me to the airport and another son, Aaron, named after The King gave me directions. The 16th August was a sad, sad day, the day that The King of Rock and Roll passed away, leaving millions of fans across the world shocked and heartbroken. I have loved and followed him for over 60 years (Flip, I’m so old!), visited his first home and his last. A small two- bedroomed shack in Tupelo to a mansion named Graceland.
“ After arriving at Stansted airport, board the train, alight at Liverpool Street Station, turn right and just keep walking to London Bridge.!” That’s where the exhibition was being held. I was still a little nervous although I have solo travelled many times, from Italy to Las Vegas without any hesitation. But London was a large metropolis, with windy streets, tall grey buildings, very easy to get lost, and I seemed to be prone to tha’t but always find my way to wherever I want to go. My son’s instructions were really accurate and as I approached the venue every bollard along the way was covered with posters advertising this special event. Elvis was everywhere. My tour time was at three and as it was now only one thirty, I settled down to wait in the venue’s café with a nice cold glass of beer. My hero was everywhere , videos playing, Elvis music playing, his beautiful face on every wall. I was in Heaven and more to come. As I was gazing round at the fantastic scenery I spotted the gift shop. Now usually it’s after a tour this appears but there it was right beside me. Calling to me. Come over and have a look. Now, I did resist for all of ten seconds, resisted the temptation for all that time then gave in. Two full bags later, tee shirts, coats , books and hats I prayed my bank manager would understand just how important this was to me. I didn’t hold out much hope of that but I didn’t care. I was floating on cloud nine.
Eventually three o’ clock rolled round and I was advised to take headphones with me to listen to the documentaries of his life. I don’t think I actually needed them because he had been a part of my life for so long that I knew a lot about The Man. It’s hard to imagine the amount of Elvis history that that room contained. From his humble beginnings in that shack in Tupelo, to the legend he became. A shining star with a magnetic presence, a powerful voice unchallenged by anyone and a beautiful personality attracting not only the female population but the males as well who admired and loved his music. All of his glorious stage jumpsuits were on display , fit for a King. Even his army uniform and the gold lame suit which he wasn’t too fond of wearing. His everyday wear as well, even Baby Lisa’s tiny dresses and bonnets. Furniture and artifacts from Graceland, film scripts and various pieces of advertising merchandise. His cars and jeeps cordoned off , untouchable but then I don’t think anyone would have tarnished the memory by disobeying the signs. On one of my visits to Graceland I wouldn’t insult my man by touching anything, maybe causing some damage. I only lifted a fir cone from the ground to take home with me. Totally immersed in my Hero’s detailed life, I failed to realise that there was a special time for viewing of the precious objects. I panicked, thinking I’d missed my chance. Andy , one of the staff I become friendly with pleaded my case to the presenter and I was saved. To say my experience was VIP was an understatement. The other viewers left the cordoned off area and I was alone. My own personal VIP experience.
I was so nervous my hands were shaking every time the objects were placed there. Firstly, the solid silver, gold plated belt which Elvis often wore, and according to the presenter he used to wear it in Graceland with only a pair of cowboy boots on his feet. At that point I felt myself burning up and hastily turned to the next item, his microphone. I was so overawed I couldn’t look up and smile. His microphone! He had held it while he sang! His sunglasses next. I got to hold them up and look through them. Heaven couldn’t be better than this.
I was so lucky, not only because of special VIP showing but also because I had followed Elvis for over sixty years. Even carrying all his recordings to Australia when my husband and I emigrated in July 1971. No record player until that Christmas. I am lucky to have been a fan of The King for so many years, to have had the pleasure of listening to his music, watching his concerts and films. To have known him (not personally unfortunately) but in my heart, my head and my soul. When I was in trouble he always seemed to be there. If I was depressed, his singing lifted me. Yes, I have been lucky and will remain so for the rest of my days, just having him in my life.
Elvis has left the building. Thank You and Good Night!
Phyllis McKenna 