The King Has Left The Building

For the past 27 years, devoted fans have been gathering at Graceland for their candlelight vigil on the anniversary of Elvis Presley's death.  I knew that these fans would make their equivalent of the pilgrimage to Mecca each August, but until I got a computer and was able to visit the world wide web, I had no idea how big this was.  What started out as a solemn candlelight vigil on August 16 has turned into an almost month long circus.  You can view live, non-stop coverage from dozens of web cams set up at Graceland and at other sites in Memphis. 

I shake my head in amazement when I think of how these thousands of fans must plan their vacations every year just so they can be at Graceland on August 16.  My Mom says I'm being too critical, and maybe she's right.  But I would love to go down to Memphis on August 16 just once so I could witness the frenzy.  It would be a people watcher's paradise for me - like a trip to the midway at the Kentucky State Fair multiplied 20 times. 

I still hav a morbid fascination with some events surrounding Elvis' death.  First of all, they say he died on the toilet, naked, and alone.  What a way to go.  How sad that thsi is the first thing that people will remember about your death.  Second, the autopsy said he died of natural causes.  The coroner even said there was no indication of drug abuse.  Riiiiiight.  And nobody thought it coincidental that the contents of Elvis' stomach and throat had been flushed away by mistake by someone at the ER of the hospital?  The pathologist's report would later be released, saying Elvis had toxic levels of codeine and methaqaualone (qualudes). 

This all leads to my point: it's all about devotion.  This man had millions of adoring fans who still spend their time and hard earned money to express their devotion, almost 30 years after his death.  While he was alive, he had dozens of loyal and devoted bodyguards and assistants would would have died for him, and who would do whatever it took to keep his image from being tarnished.  And apparently, he even had loving hospital workers who were so devoted that they got rid of any evidence that might have made the King look like a drug addict.

I like to think that I have two or three loyal friends who would go to such lengths for me.  But when I die, I doubt that it will take 100 vans to haul all of the flowers to the cemetary where I'll be buried.  And I'm pretty sure the governor won't need to call out 300 National Guardsmen to maintain order at the funeral home, either.