Postcards
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Postcards
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| postcard #5 |
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Everything we did yesterday pales in comparison to the Candlelight Vigil. I mean, eating at Blues City Cafe followed by shopping at A. Schwab (The Neiman’s of the South, as Chris referred to it) on Beale Street, and the National Civil Rights Museum. While fun and exciting and time well spent, it is the Candlelight Vigil that will stand in our minds for a long time to come. Words cannot begin to describe the site that unfolded, so this may be brief.
We first entered the Graceland Gridlock at about 6:00 p.m., where we parked about three-quarters of a mile away. Along the way, we bumped into the likes of Marilyn Monroe, and Elvis multiple times over. For eight hours we waited, as fans world-wide approached Graceland, anxiously awaiting their opportunity to pay quiet tribute to the King. At 9:00, there was a ceremony conducted by the Elvis Country Fan Club, and 30,000 plus fans lit their candles, raising them to the sky and sang along with Elvis "If I Can Dream", "Can't Help Falling In Love" and "I Did It My Way." And now the end is near, and so I face the final curtain, My friend, I'll say it clear, I'll state my case of which I'm certain. I've lived a life that's full, I traveled each and every highway, And more, much more than this, I did it my way. We walked through that night with three women from Newton, Massachusetts, who all work together. They described how people thought they were crazy when they announced going to Graceland, to Mecca, and how that quickly turned to jealousy on Monday when the media began to talk of all the hype. This was their first trip, and when we spoke of Elvis, they became overklempt as their eyes welled with tears. Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention, I did what I had to do, and saw it through without exemption. I planned each chartered course, each careful step along the by way, And more, much more than this, I did it my way. There was a slight breeze, which made having a candlelight vigil difficult. Despite the breeze, it was extremely hot and humid. Big bad hair was abound. The Graceland staff distributed ice water to the crowd in plastic Solo cups. People then took the cups, poking holes in the bottom, and stuck their candles through them to protect the flame from the wind. By midnight, there were 30,000 Solo Cup Torches. Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew, when I bit off more than I could chew, But through it all, when there was doubt, I ate it up, and spit it out. I faced it all, and I stood tall, and did it my way. Entering the gates of Graceland, you walked through two lines of Candlelight hosts, each holding a battery-powered candle. For those whose candles had burned by the time they got to the gate, Graceland had two skids of candles, and two tiki torches to light your candles from. We walked up the drive, and when we approached the Meditation Garden where the King is buried, there were all kinds of hand-made floral tributes made of silk, crape paper Elvis photos and glue, left by fans from all around the world. At his grave, we could leave a single flower. I've loved, I've laughed and cried, I've had my fill, my share of losing, And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing. To think I did all that, and may I say, "Not in a shy way." Oh, no, oh no, not me, I did it my way. Many women set up camp. Two set out their chase lounge chairs, covered with Elvis beach towels. They had a cooler and a cocktail table. And as the crowd sang, they consoled each other, and let their tears flow, as if Elvis had passed away just yesterday. Another set her towel on the ground, and surrounded herself with votive candles. After lighting them all, she set out a framed photograph of Elvis and sat in quiet solitude. When we left the grounds at 2:00 a.m., Elvis Presley Boulevard was still filled. For what is a man, what has he got, if not himself, then he has not to say the thing he truly feels, And not the words of one who kneels. The record shows I took the blows, and did it my way.
Elvis forever,
except for the words from "My Way," by Revaux/Francois/Anka, of course, and you can e-mail the author and maybe he'll sing it for you.
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