Then I spy Elvis himself–fat, paunchy and wearing sunglasses. The only trace of fame that adheres to him is the white-spangled costume which was his trademark. I wish he was singing a hymn from one of his albums, but then I realize that there is not much interaction between those who wait. He is not in an aisle seat , but I lean over and address . “Mr. Presley?” He looks up nervously, as though he expects an autograph hound, then nods.
“You’re headed for a different life and different lessons. Before you’re all gone would you be kind enough to give us the gift of your ‘Amazing Grace’?”
Elvis blinks, obviously surprised, and then looks all around him as though to assess his potential audience. Apparently satisfied, he stands and faces the main portion of the crowd. His voice is richly beautiful as he sings all seven verses of “Amazing Grace,” as only he can. He sits down when finished and instead of wild applause there a total, respectful and moved silence, punctuated by quiet sobs.
c.Nan Mykel 2015
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