Thursday, January 3, 2008

Elvis Has Left The Building

I have been asked about the Elvis picture beneath the title of my blog. These are my three children, ages 10, 6 and 3, dressed as Elvis (or "Elvi", the correct plural form) for Halloween. I was not a blogger in October - didn't start until December- but if truth be told, I have always blogged in my head. There seems to always be a running commentary rattling around in my brain about something, I just didn't know there was a fancy word to describe it, or a medium provided to display such ramblings. I thought it was just referred to as maybe, I don't know, "crazy", or as one of my good friends puts it, "not right". So to my relief it just means I'm a "blogger". I digress...



So, back to Elvis. My oldest son wanted to be Elvis, which was quickly followed by a "Me,too!" from the others. I ordered jumpsuits online, purchased black hairspray and groovy sunglasses and waited patiently to make our debut. When Halloween arrived, we gathered our hunk of burnin' love costumes and went to work.(There's going to be a lot of that in this blog. Sorry, I can't make myself stop. Use the mean, little red box in the corner when you've had enough)

There really are not enough adjectives to describe the transformation that took place that day. As if by magic, hips began to sway and the snarls began to form. (Their guts, miraculously did not pooch out as we were depicting the early days of the king).The children even began calling me "MAMA". I was completely flabbergasted at the sudden likeness, but also somewhat disappointed that I had not ordered a Priscilla costume for myself to take credit genetically for the gorgeous Elvis children I had just produced. The final product was just downright funny. Bust your gut hilarious that still causes great joy when I picture my little ones in their vinyl bellbottoms that squeaked with every step taken. Thus, the picture under the title.



Back to Halloween. We decided to join the trick or treaters in the downtown area of our small town. All of the merchants participated by either offering candy (those who planned ahead)or coupons (those who did not)to eager little hands. It is a quick and efficient manner of collecting goodies without traveling more than a couple of feet between each individual haul.

Our arrival on the scene was as you might expect in the South, a region that still loves the king, and still questions his actual demise. We attracted a good amount of attention, that surprisingly my traveling Elvi enjoyed, until the requests for photographs began.





The first few were tolerated pretty well. The children smiled and laughed good- naturedly at all of the Elvis-isms thrown their way: "Ladies and Gentleman, Elvis has left the building" or " Thank Ya, thank ya very much!" and my personal favorite, "Viiiiiva Las Vegas!" It was all in good fun until it became a distraction from the collection of loot. Then it quickly turned into an annoyance. I knew it was time to go when, near the end, we had the following interaction with a devoted follower:

(To fully appreciate this real-life conversation you must read it in the most exaggerated southern dialect you can summon.)

Devoted Follower: "You just cain't know how much I love my Ailvis. He's always been my favorite and I have all his albums and I just 'bout died when he died but I really don't think he's dead cause he's still right here in my heart and I just KNOW he's gonna come back and show everybody that nothin', I mean nothin', can keep the KING down. (Big breath)

Deer in the headlights children: "Do you have any candy?"

Devoted Follower: "Ain't you sweet? Anyhow,this one time I was listenin' to Love Me tender, do you know that song, and I felt like he was sangin' just to me and it just tore me to pieces, you just cannot know-

Me:" OK. Well, we probably should move along. Thanks for taking the time-

Interrupting Devoted Follower: "It would just mean so much if you could just let me take their pitchers with my Betty Jean cause they look just like him and she loves him too and I love him so much and I miss him and I just cain't believe he's gone - can you - bless poor Priscilla's heart, can you just imagine and what about poor little Lisa growing up without a daddy like that..."

Soon after the final photo, and unfortunately while the devoted follower continued talking, we headed towards our car so the children could properly engage in the much anticipated sugar delirium that would continue for days.

So, that's why I post the photo.Good memories, good times, good ol' Elvis.

1 comment:

JMom said...

I LOVE this story! You are seriously a hoot. (and I can imagine the dialect very, very well.)