On a beautiful summer's day with the sun shinning through the Palm Tree with the oyster face, coconut bra and grass skirt ... there's no ocean breeze so the salt hangs in the air and on my skin ... the grass and colorful blooms are wet from a quick shower that happened before I rose ... and the glare from the sun is so bright I have towels hanging over the sliding glass doors so I can see the computer screen.
Elvis has a wooden heart.
Mine's pretty full these days.
A few years ago Sarah and I went to Memphis, a place I would never have chosen ... primarily because it's not an island ... but I have to say ... Memphis is cool.
But of all the coolness of Memphis ... and there's a lot ... it's belongs to Elvis.
Graceland blew us away.
If you've never been to Graceland ... you have to go.
It's like going to the Holy Land ... of music.
Sarah has to drag me out of the "Jungle Room" kicking and screaming.
Beale Street is fantastic ... the Loraine Motel is as Holy a place as there is in America ... and "Ernestine's & Hazels" is as cool as it gets.
If you've never had a burger cooked in pickle juice ... you life isn't over yet.
Anyway ... I don't know why ... but it's an Elvis kind of morning.
He's having mail returned by sender ... and I'm loving the sweet stickiness of summer.
Then again ... Elvis is dead.
Somehow I'm still here.
I wonder why sometimes.
The world would likely prefer to have Elvis back but ... it gets me.
There must be a reason.
I've done ... and do ... some good things and ... sometimes they're of Elvis stature ... but he's still selling millions after he died ... and I've pretty much dropped out of sight.
It's curious though.
They'd be no resurrection without a death ... no reincarnation either ... or Second Coming or Third Coming or however many it is ... no touching of the Lotus feet ...
I'm pretty alive today.
Life is good.
And I find Elvis is sharing it with me.
Thank you.
Thank ya very much.
