I Loved Elvis | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: I Loved Elvis | Previous Challenge Entry
By Carol Aiken
01/23/09
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I loved Elvis Presley. I was twelve years old when he was televised on the Ed Sullivan Show. My brother, who was sixteen, sat by me on the floor as we both fixated on the black and white picture on the square box that was still fairly new in our home. We were only one of a few in our neighborhood
who even owned a television which only intensified the whole experience. The anticipation was unbearable for me, but I had to contain it since I knew I was in the line of fire of my mother’s critical eye. A serious Southern Baptist, she had been curious enough to allow us to watch the historical
moment. My dad, on the other hand, was just proud to have been the one to make it all possible.
Then the show began. Ed Sullivan had been in an automobile accident and Charles Laughton was substituting for him. That didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t even tell you who the other guests were on that particular night leading to the moment when Elvis was introduced. All I knew was that the “man of my dreams” was soon to be singing directly to me in my house.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” The host had to repeat himself several times over the screams of the teenage girls on the front row of the live studio audience. I wanted to scream. The scream was inside my throat, but I couldn’t let it out, not in our house. I knew my parents wouldn’t understand and I wasn’t going to do anything to cause the television to be turned off that night.
The moment finally arrived. The audience settled down, and the camera was on Elvis. The music started and although he sang four songs that night, the only one that is etched in my memory is “Love Me Tender.” I just knew that he was singing it directly to me. Oh yes, I saw all of those teenage girls in the studio, looking at him, screaming over him, but they had to share him. I had him completely to myself, in my living room, in my home. That was my moment with Elvis Presley.
Years passed. Through my teen years, I fell asleep at night to long-playing records of Elvis reassuring me that he loved me, and that he would never break my heart, nor did he want me to break his. I could never imagine anyone who could have that effect on me musically again.
Then there was The Beatles. When their music began to bridge the ocean to America, like a giant tidal wave from the U.K to the United States, I was married and living in California. Their debut in the United States in 1964 caused an eruption of a new era. Even though I was in my twenties, the pull of Beatle mania was irresistible. I watched as my cohorts moved down the exciting road from my past, screaming at the television screen, and picking out their favorite Beatle to idolize. With each generation, it’s interesting how we lose our objectivity. Too soon, we forget. I remember one scene that was shown many times on television, and I couldn’t believe how foolishly young girls can act.
“Ooooh Paul,” the girl had both of her hands in fists placed on each cheek sobbing; and the tears were
real. For just a second, I went into her body and a faint memory rose up. It was me. I was at the Ed Sullivan show, on the front row of the studio audience, screaming and crying over my idol. No, wait! I was in my living room watching Elvis on television, choking back my desire to scream, “Ooooh Elvis!”
So, now, my main interests are writing and listening to Christian up-lifting music, but I am, after all, 64
years old. I still love Elvis. I have come to appreciate the talent of Paul McCartney and John Lennon,
despite my differences with John’s spiritual views. But most of all, I still love Elvis.

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