In the mountains, in the drizzle, in a tent (a king dies)

The death of Elvis Presley had a profound effect on me…and not the way you’d guess or expect…

We were camping in Colorado, in the mountains, in the drizzle, in a tent when the news broke that Elvis Presley had died.

We spent three days in that campsite (in the mountains, in the drizzle, in a tent) and the only music we could hear, on the one channel that would come in clearly on the radio, was every Elvis Presley song ever sung and/or written by “the King”. Along with rambling interviews with anyone who had ever shook his hand, made eye-contact with him or had a drink with him in the backwoods and those that were camped out at Graceland in mourning.

The day we left that campsite we left behind the mountains, the drizzle and the Elvis songs…we had to take the tent, we needed it.

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