I'm sitting in the Frothy Monkey on Sunday morning having a cup of coffee before I head down for to visit my mom. "In the Ghetto" by Elvis Presley is playing and I'm feeling a little melancholy and contemplative.
My mom loves Elvis Presley. The day he died (August 16, 1977), she and an old friend, Betty Gant, drove to Super X (a long forgotten drug store) in Brentwood and bought a bunch of Elvis Presley 8-track tapes. I guess they thought since he was dead, all of Elvis Presley's music would disappear. It was funny then and it's funny in its naivete now. My mom was 37 years old then, 40 years ago. So much has changed, obviously, in the world of music and with her.
One of the last times I brought my mom to my house for dinner was last November or December, she and I arrived before anyone else and spent a hour or so together. She watched with childlike innocence and delight as I played music for her by talking to our Amazon "Echo."
"Alexa, play 'In the Ghetto' by Elvis Presley," I said.
Alexa, ever the dutiful helper, replied, "In the Ghetto, by Elvis Presley."
Like magic, Elvis began singing "In the Ghetto." My mom laughed and smiled in wonderment. And I smiled with her. This continued for awhile, as I played DJ for my mom, asking Alexa to play songs from the past I knew she would like. The Carpenters, Johnny Mathis, Paul Anka, etc., almost all of which we had on 8-track tapes in the playroom in the 1970's. My mom and I just hung out together, listening to music and forgetting about life for a little while.
At the time, I didn't realize how quickly things would deteriorate for my mom. I didn't realize it would be one of the last times - maybe the last time - she would be at my house with my family. Had I known, I'm not sure I would have changed a thing though.
It's a memory I will always cherish.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment