Uncategorized

The Day the King Died

elvis

Forty years ago today I was a junior high school student enjoying the final weeks of the summer of ’77.  I was playing golf at the Lost Brook Golf Course in Norwood, Massachusetts with my brother, Chris, and our neighborhood friends, Ronny and Matt Adams. As we played, the skies started to grow dark and ominous, so we headed home.

Why do I remember August 16, 1977, so clearly? It’s because of what I saw when I arrived at home. My mother Marilyn was crying, not sobbing like a member of the family had died, but I knew something was wrong — and these tears weren’t over a broken vase. “Elvis died,” my mother blurted out. I remember watching coverage on the television news that night.

presleydead

Now, my mother isn’t one of those Elvis faithful who wore a glittered sweatshirt with the Presley profile emblazoned across the chest. Hardly. She’s…

View original post 346 more words

Advertisements

Categories: Uncategorized

1 reply »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s