Elvis was a Saint? Yes! Even Orthodox!

Back in August of 1977, following the rigors of after-school football practice, I was leaving the practice field with my buddies when I noticed my Mom and Dad sitting in our 1966 Ford pickup truck … my Mom was crying, my Dad looked sad.

I knew something — some tragedy — had happened …

As my mind raced to think of what friend or relative it might involve, my Mom stopped the sobs long enough to look my way through red-blood-shot eyes and blurt out:

Elvis is dead … Elvis died today, Son.

Then, she resumed crying. They were listening to the news on the radio. As I scanned the other parents in their cars in the high school parking lot, the mood could only be described as somber … all tears, all ears … tuned to the radio and the news of the singer’s death.

Elvis.

My family was on a first name basis with the King – as were most Southern working folks –

Elvis.

Truth be known, he’d seen us. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, back in 1972, we saw Elvis Presley in concert at the Charlotte Coliseum – and if you believe my Mom’s gal pal Pam …

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