On January 8th 1935, Elvis Aaron Presley was born in Tupelo, Mississippi. He would have been 80-years-old today if a cruel and impersonal universe had not stolen him from us at the tender age of 42. It might have helped if he'd eaten fewer burgers and taken less amphetamines too.
I've completed my own pilgrimage to Graceland, of course, but I was delighted to see that I didn't need to travel that far today - a local Vancouver community centre was celebrating with an Elvis birthday party. The great man himself was going to be there, in spirit, and given corporeal form by Eli "Tigerman" Williams, an award winning Elvis tribute artist. I was very excited.
When I arrived at the concert venue, a sign on the outside informed me that it was a "seniors centre". Hmm. I walked in and said I was looking for Elvis, and was directed to take a seat in the dining room. It's been a long time since I was the youngest person at a party, but I can safely say I was about half the age of anyone else there.
A starter of peanut butter and banana sandwiches was served, sadly not fried in butter the way the King liked them. There was a quiz on the table. "Have you got a smartphone?"asked Sheryl, a silver-haired lady sitting opposite me, and laughed at my assertion that this was cheating. Another lady joined us, and told me that she had been on a plane to LA on 16th August 1977 when the captain had announced to the whole flight that Elvis had died.
Then the strains of Also Spracht Zarathustra began. One of the centre administrators announced that Elvis was in the building, and moments later a gold-chained, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing rock'n'roll legend arrived. He sang the hits, he gyrated, he chatted with the crowd, he got down on one knee and serenaded several septuagenarians. I got a handshake. He informed us that Elvis had recorded 760 songs, so we'd be here for a while, but all too quickly it was over.
After that there were signed photos and souvenirs and, incredibly, lunch. As I tucked into Memphis-inspired meat loaf I reflected that Elvis is like Santa. You know it's not the real Santa, but the magic is in the pretending. That's why it's so much fun to sit in a room with a bunch of screaming pensioners and watch a sweating impersonator bang out timeless hits. "Tigerman" was certainly invested, and so was I. So was everyone else, judging by the standing ovation he got at the end. If the King had been there - he was certainly the right age today - he would have been impressed. Perhaps he was.
Sadly, watercolour painting clashed with Elvis, but I might stay for Emotions Anonymous.
Nibbles fit for a King.
Even in the enclosed dining room, he had the moves.
After eating all that, I resemble Elvis at the end of his career.
A selfie with Elvis. A selvis!
