It really shouldn't have taken this long for this to occur to me, but it did: Elvis Presley was born two days before--and one state over from--my dad.
Neither of them lived as long as he should have.
Elvis died in 1977. I remember watching the Cubs game that August afternoon when the announcer broke in with the news. It didn't seem real. Elvis was so young. How could he be dead?
Dad died 18 years later. That also did not seem real.
Both would have been 80 this week.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
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I met your dad only once, very briefly at our college graduation, but you've told me so much about him that I feel like I spent much more time in his company. Perhaps it's also because your stories about him remind me so much of my dad's stories, habits, likes, dislikes. My dad would have been 85 next month.
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