Goin' to Graceland, Graceland

I'm going to Graceland for reasons I cannot explain. There's some part of me wants to see Graceland. Some part of my best friend, Kay, too. So we're here together. And I've reason to believe we both will be received in Graceland. So long as we pay our $27.00 for the deluxe tour.

Elvis Presley would have loved Graceland.

My friend Tim told me it is plenty weird and in some ways twisted, [but it's] worth the price of admission, if only for the baroque early-sixties-nuclear decor. Hmn; I dunno. I'd say it's late sixties and some of it is definitely 1970s. The avocado green fridge, for example.

The house does not disappoint. It's a time capsule of millionaire excess in the 1960s/70s. And if Elvis hadn't died when he did, we'd never have seen it — it would have been redecorated periodically had he lived to detest wood panelled walls, shag carpeting, gold-threaded mirrored walls, and walnut trim like the rest of us.

The best room in the house is the TV room. All done up in dark blue and lemon yellow. The bar is covered in yellow leather, and has built-in chrome and yellow bar stools, like in a diner. It's fabulous. I want it in my house.

Out back is the trophy room, and another room full of Elvis artifacts. I asked Kay if she could recall whether Elvis had ever won a grammy, and this room holds the answer: three. All for Best Inspirational Performance, two of them for How Great Thou Art. Like Tim says, gospel is where Elvis found his soul.

The black leather suit from the 1968 "Comeback Tour" is on display in this room. I recognized it because that's what Elvis is usually wearing when he appears in my dreams.

There are movie paragons and paraphenalia, including the poster and the script from Change Of Habit, the rarely seen Elvis-plays-it-serious movie, co-starring Mary Tyler Moore as a nun. I haven't seen it, but I can already guess the ending. Heck, wouldn't you leave the convent for him?

The deluxe tour includes not only the house and grounds, but the car museum and the two planes.

In the car museum there are two dozen bedizened outfits from the 1970s. It's an Elvis impersonator's wet dream. Even the Eagle cape from the 1973 "Aloha From Hawaii" tour, which Elvis threw into the audience, has found its way back to Graceland. Possibly because it killed the person it landed on.

I remember watching that concert on TV with my mother. I must have been in kindergarten. Too young to appreciate the Elvis that had been, and mourn the Elvis he had become. The video of the concert plays continuously on an enormous screen suspended above the spread-eagle cape.

But oh, the cars. Yeah, yeah, there's the pink Cadillac. A purple one, too. But they're nothing compared to the twin Stutz Blackhawks. Both black, one a '71, the other a '73.

There's a post office at Graceland where you can mail your postcards and they'll get a Graceland cancellation stamp. I sent a card to my aunt saying the usual, Elvis was here... oh... actually, Elvis is still here.

In fact, Elvis is everywhere: Sun Studios has his social security card and high school diploma. Lansky's, an upscale men's clothier in the upscale Peabody Hotel has his pink leather coat. The Hard Rock Café has, naturally, his guitars.

At the end of our day at Graceland, Kay and I had an Elvis Special at the Rockabilly Café: a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich. We toasted Elvis with our toast.

Here's to you, Elvis. How great thou wert.

In the next story, Postmodern Sass tells how she met her best friend, Kay.