I Try to Think About Elvis

I’ll never forget the day that Elvis died. I was ten years old and lying down in the front seat of my daddy’s black 1976 Lincoln Continental on the way to Biloxi, Mississippi. It was a hot August day, but cool inside the car on the plush red leather seats. The radio announcer broke into the song that was playing and announced it. We were just south of Jackson and I sat up right immediately and said “Mother is going to be so upset!”

Does every girl born in the 60s think her father reminds her of Elvis?