Elvis died 31 years ago today on August 16, 1977. Do you remember where you were when you heard it? I do.

I was working a 3 - 11 shift as a long distance operator in Tupelo. The switchboard lit up like a Christmas tree – literally. People heard the news, picked up the phone to talk about it, some of them making long distance calls, some just to talk to the friendly local operator they always got by simply dialing zero. Some were crying, some wanted to verify the accuracy of the news, some were frantic as though their world was coming to an end. It was a wild day. And by the end of that shift, I had heard all the details of the story plus several conspiracy theories. Our supervisors told us to be polite, but to cut short any conversations that did not involve a long distance call being made.

My oldest son Ricky, who was 12, had been on a trip with the church youth group to Wilson Lake(?) in Alabama, and he was saddened by the news, but absolutely astounded that a couple of girls on the trip were bawling about it. "Mama, they didn't even know the man, and they were crying," he said, incredulous of their emotional reactions.

A crowd always gathers around Graceland in Memphis during the week of this anniversary to memorialize once again "the king of rock and roll." There was a short clip on one of the news programs this morning, commemorating the date, and they showed a group of "pilgrims" with candles touring the Presley estate in the rain. I've never been so enamored of any celebrity that I went out of my way to see them, dead or alive. Yes, I liked a lot of his music, and for anyone to die such a tragic death so young is sad, but isn't it time we just let the man rest in peace?