Recently I saw the movie Elvis, and the other day I listened to Elvis and Me, a memoir by Priscilla Presley. Since Elvis passed away before I was born, I grew up with him as a revered icon of the past. Perhaps, if he had lived, I would have seen him on TV and heard his new releases on the radio throughout my childhood, but that was not to be. Elvis and me? We never shared this earth.
I've always found Elvis to be an interesting historical figure. I wrote a research paper and gave a presentation on him in high school. I wore a faux white leather jacket and a red scarf and held a fried chicken leg in my hand. I totally fat-shamed Elvis! And now I'm heavier than Elvis ever was, so don't worry, Elvis. I got what was coming to me.
From a psychological and behavioral standpoint, I have always found fame to be very intriguing. I'm incredibly fascinated by the way fame shapes people (and by the way people acquire and shape their fame). I can be a bit celebrity-obsessed at times, but it's not a form of worship or idolization. I don't romanticize stardom - in fact, I find it exceedingly destructive in most cases. I don't envy celebrities' lives. Instead, I believe that they should envy mine. There's a part of me that wants to gather all the struggling celebrities in my home and nurture the crap out of them. Come, all you childhood Disney stars! Let me feed you chicken nuggets, read you The Boxcar Children, and tuck you in with a bedtime song.
I've always assumed that Elvis Presley was probably a bit of a dirtbag, but I secretly hoped he wasn't. Based on Priscilla's book, my assumptions are likely correct. He was demanding and a bit misogynistic, and the boy did Priscilla wrong in so many ways - he was truly a victim of fame while she was a victim of naivete. Elvis groomed Priscilla from the age of 14 to be what he wanted her to be. He dictated how she should walk, how she should dress, and even how she should care for her teeth. He wouldn't let her have a job or pursue education. He would pump her full of drugs but wouldn't allow her to take birth control because he thought it was too dangerous. Many of his mentalities were common for the time, but it's still infuriating to hear about. I think Priscilla reveres him more than he deserves, simply because he died young. It would be interesting to see how her memoir would differ had he lived longer. Likewise, it would be interesting to see what would have become of him across 40 more years.
I, personally, harbor hope that the conspiracy theories are true, and that Elvis is still alive. It would be the greatest feat of all time to have faked his own death and gotten away from his fame. I would, with much sincerity, love that. But so many people would have had to be "in" on it, and I'm not sure one organizes one's artificial death on a toilet. And despite how easily it happens on TV, I'm not sure the body could have been faked, but you can never underestimate the power of fame and money.
I've always wondered how I would have felt about Elvis had I grown up in the late 50's to early 70's. What would I have thought of that iconic pompadour and those rubber legs? Would I have saved up to buy his records and positioned myself mere inches from the TV to swoon over him? Would I have fallen captive to his icy blue eyes and his gyrating hips?
I'll never know.
And I have nothing from my own life to compare it to. There was no star of Elvis caliber in my formative years. I'm too young for The King and too old for Bieber Fever. I made it through the boy band era with some pretty sweet dance moves but no major crushes. Despite what some believe, I never even crushed on Justin Timberlake. My one and only crush to the point of unhealthy obsession was Jonathan Taylor Thomas, but he was not the same kind of icon as Elvis.
I have truly lived a life with nothing even close to Elvis.
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