Identity Crisis

I've probably shared this before, but when I was twelve or thirteen (I think Lincoln was President) I got this notion that if I could become Elvis all my problems would be solved, so I set out to look like (good luck, there) walk like (I was pretty close) and SOUND like (there is no comparison) Elvis. I'd sit and dinner and in my best Elvis voice and with as much swagger as one can summon up sitting down, would say, "Pass the mashed potatoes, Daddy."

Dad's replay would be "I WILL, if you stop talking like Elvis!"

"I-I-I don't understand, Daddy. Th-th-th-this is the way I talk!"

I got speech after speech from him on how God made Elvis and He made me and that we're not the same person and that I'd do better trying to be myself, (which, by the way, is something Elvis always taught people.)

I wouldn't listen, and one night I went to the skating rink hoping to see some pretty females and my friends in the band were there, Dan Seidel, Ken Crowder (Wolfenden) and some other friends. I swaggered in with my best Elvis walk and in my best Elvis voice said, "Think I'll go home"

I think it was Dan who said, "Why, John?"

"No girls." and then I walked off into the sunset, down Great Falls Street to the house, probably singing some Elvis song on the way.

Well, next day after school was band rehearsal at Dan's house and I was the last to arrive, so I was going to sneak up on the other guys and crept up the stairs to hear a re-inactment of what had happened at the skating rink. The guys busted out laughing and I heard one say, "That fool really thinks he's ELVIS!"

Suddenly, my father's words made sense to me. After that, it was a long time before I would talk, sing or act like Elvis, even though people would ask me to.

Elvis said it. Dad said it. Be yourself