Before Elvis crashed onto the music world, my older sister would build forts with me in the woods. She would swing me for as long as I wanted on the old swing behind the doll house. She took the time to polish my nails and taught me how to curl my hair. She helped me with my Halloween costumes and let me help with cutting the Jack o’lantern. Ten years older than me, she didn’t mind dragging around her little sister.
Then came Elvis Presley. Okay, my brothers parodied that famous dance while hollering “You Ain’t Nothin’ But A Houndog.” All Day long. All. Day. Long. I laughed until my sides hurt. But Elvis stole my sister. She became a teenager. She didn’t want to look at my pet crow. She barely noticed when the landscapers came and cut off all the lower limbs on the trees at our home, cutting off all access to the trees tops. She acted so strangely.
I was a grown woman before I would “forgive” Elvis and listen seriously to his music. What an artist. What a gentleman. I guess it’s okay to share.