(Pictured above, Elvis "The Pelvis" Presley)Throughout this trip the name Jackson has been following us. First we stayed in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Then we visited the Jackson homestead (Minnesotan home of Lili and AJ Jackson and their lovely parents). Then we found out Michael Jackson died. Then we drove through Jackson, Tennessee where we found out Lorretta Lynn had a greasy, greasy, greasy, divey, greasy, did I say greasy? Spoon. In the middle of nowhere. Now, we are on our way out of Memphis, Tennesse through, that's right, Jackson, Mississippi.
In between all of those Jackson's is a Presley. A Presley who fathered a Presley who would both marry and divorce a Jackson.
In order to understand how I felt at Elvis Presley's mansion home called Graceland this afternoon, first read his daughter's statement on Michael Jackson's death. A statement she posted a little less than a month ago on her Myspace.
So, when we entered Graceland, the sadness of a short life of gargantuan fame really sunk in. I've said this before and I'll say it again - obviously I didn't know MJ or Elvis, but that's what's so amazing about both of them. You didn't have to know them to feel like you did. It was the music that connected you.
At the 1970 Ten Outstanding Young Men of the Nation Awards, Elvis accepted his award by saying this:
"When I was a child, ladies and gentlemen, I was a dreamer. I read comic books, and I was the hero of the comic book. I saw movies, and I was the hero in the movie. So every dream I ever dreamed has come true a hundred times . . . I learned very early in life that "Without a song, the day would never end; without a song, a man ain't got a friend; without a song, the road would never bend - without a song". So I keep singing a song. Goodnight. Thank you."
Who doesn't feel like that when they're a kid? When they're an adult? Whenever?! The real question is, who actually succeeds at becoming that dream? Not many people. And how many of them end tragically. Fuck prescription drugs.
When you walk through Graceland, some dude who's name doesn't matter and who no one knows narrates your tour. As you walk from room to room he describes specific photos, pieces of furniture and knick-knacks - and their historical and emotional importance to Elvis' life. Intermittently a clip from one of Elvis' songs would play in the background. And very occasionally, Lisa Marie would talk about her dad.
The last stop on the tour is the "Meditation Garden" where Elvis Presley, his parents and his grandmother Minnie Mae (who lived to 89!) are all laid to rest. (There's also a memorial for Elvis' twin brother, Jesse Garon, who died at birth). Lisa Marie was only nine when he died.
The tour made me sad. Sad that his house has become an epicenter of consumerism (there are probably 400,057 million giftshops). Sad that Elvis' life was cut short because, even after "making it big," he still needed to take prescription drugs. Sad that both he and MJ came from poverty, financially helped everyone in their families from parents to second, third, fourth, bazillionith cousins - only to die alone. Sad that you can't have it all. Just plain sad.
So Elvis, thank you for arranging, adapting, recording and producing so many awesome songs. Thank you for singing. Thank you for jiggling. I hope you are jiggling somewhere up there in the Big Rock Candy Mountain. And... maybe, MJ is up there with you, doing some kind of jiggly Moonwalk.
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