My Diary & Elvis
"I want you to come to Vegas with me..."
What was it about me that attracted him?
How many starry-eyed girls made diary entries of long kissing sessions with the King? Numerous of fans clambered to see Elvis outside the gates of Graceland in the summer of 1969. When my sister called his name and asked for a kiss, I got one, too. And then another. And another...
Within these pages, I share my treasured memories with Elvis, pulled from my diary of those days. The innocent voice of a newly sixteen-year-old girl is peppered into a narrative spun today, as I am now a mother and grandmother.
Why me? I have often wondered. Maybe it's because I never asked him for anything, never demanded nor expected. All I have from him is a strand of love beads he placed around my neck, a couple of photographs, and the wondrous memories of our times together. These are the days of his life which are etched into my mind and are scribed in the pages of my diary. . .
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"I want you to come to Vegas with me..."
What was it about me that attracted him?
How many starry-eyed girls made diary entries of long kissing sessions with the King? Numerous of fans clambered to see Elvis outside the gates of Graceland in the summer of 1969. When my sister called his name and asked for a kiss, I got one, too. And then another. And another...
Within these pages, I share my treasured memories with Elvis, pulled from my diary of those days. The innocent voice of a newly sixteen-year-old girl is peppered into a narrative spun today, as I am now a mother and grandmother.
Why me? I have often wondered. Maybe it's because I never asked him for anything, never demanded nor expected. All I have from him is a strand of love beads he placed around my neck, a couple of photographs, and the wondrous memories of our times together. These are the days of his life which are etched into my mind and are scribed in the pages of my diary. . .
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