Occasionally, I like to break away from my views on life and life lessons and pay homage to people who have had an impact on me in some way, shape or form.  Some of these people I knew and some I didn't. 

Today, I would like to pay homage to someone I never had the privilege to know or even meet but I did see him in concert.

That person is Elvis Presley.  In case you've been caught up in all the media hype about the 40^th anniversary of Woodstock, Elvis died 32 years ago yesterday.

I was born and, at least for the first nine years of my life, raised in the South by parents who were also born and raised in Dixie.  What they teach you in Southern Child Rearing classes is that you MUST raise your kids to listen to Elvis and watch his movies.  At least that's what I thought as I was being raised in the Sixties.

During those years, we didn't have much in the way of records in the house.  But what we did have were a couple of 45's by Elvis that I wore out.  They were "Wear My Ring Around Your Neck" and "Blue Christmas".  I listened to those records Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall and I loved them! 

Also during that time, it was always a very special treat to be able to watch an Elvis movie at the theater or, as a runner up, on T.V.  As kids often do, they inject themselves into the characters played by their idols and I was no different.  After watching an Elvis movie, I would go outside and play, being whoever Elvis was in the movie, winning the imaginary fist fights and the beautiful women.  It was good to be king!

Fast forward a few years to Spring, 1973.  I'm fairly certain that I was the only eighth grade kid in Phoenix that would admit to liking and listening to Elvis.  Imagine my surprise when I learned that the King was going to be performing at Veteran's Memorial Coliseum at the State Fair Grounds. 

However, there were two problems that I had to overcome.  One, the tickets were a whopping $8.50!  That was a lot of money to a twelve year old kid in 1973 but not an impossible amount to scrape together in a short amount of time.  The second problem would require an act of God to overcome because of when the concert was going to take place.  The date of the concert?  Easter Sunday!

"Big deal!" you say?  Try telling that to your mom who had you in church every time its doors were open! 

I went to Mom and asked if I could see Elvis, not expecting a positive outcome.  Imagine my surprise when she said that I could if I had the money for the ticket!  That was certainly doable so I was good to go.

I waited in line the day the tickets went on sale and I managed to secure a seat on the floor towards the back of the room.  Not bad.

The day of the concert soon arrived.  I got up that morning and put on my Easter best, hoping that Pastor Berry would keep the sermon short so that I could boogie on down to the coliseum.  While he seemed to preach for eternity, I was able to get out of church and down to the arena two hours before the concert was to begin.  I didn't want to miss a thing.

After checking out the memorabilia tables, I located my seat and then began to wander around the rest of the venue.  I went to the back stage area, hoping to see if Elvis was hanging around but he wasn't.  Besides, the policeman guarding the area gave me the distinct impression that he really didn't want me there so I moved on.

After taking the officer's "friendly" hint, I moseyed on over to right at the foot of the stage, checking out the instruments - especially Elvis's famous black Gibson guitar that has graced many photos of him in concert.  While ogling the gear, I noticed someone walking up to the stage near me.  Expecting yet another cop wanting to move me along, I was stunned to see that it was none other than Elvis's famous manager, Colonel Tom Parker.

I fearlessly walked up to him as any thirteen year old might do and asked him if he was the Colonel.  After confirming that he was, here is the conversation that took place, almost verbatim:

Me:  "Where did Elvis play before coming here?"

The Colonel names the city.

Me:  "Where does he play next?"

The Colonel names the city.

Having run out of questions, I ask, "Can I go back stage and meet Elvis?"

The Colonel:  "No" and turns around and walks away.

End of the conversation and the end of what I now refer to as my first celebrity interview.

Well, I enjoyed a great concert by one of the most influential people in history and I was none the happier.  I will cover that concert some other time.

That night at church (because the doors were always open on Sunday nights and, by golly, I had to be there!) some of the more "holier than thou" members sniffed their disapproval of my activities that afternoon.  Others excitedly asked me how the show was, not believing my luck at having met the Colonel. 

Going to bed that night, I repeatedly reviewed the incredible events of that day, falling asleep while looking at the programs and posters that I bought, knowing that not a soul at school could care any less about my day and the "sniffers" at church thought that I was surely doomed to Hell.

It didn't matter.  All I knew was that, as far as I was concerned, for a couple of hours the world stood still to hear Elvis sing and I was there to hear him.