i was in bergen, norway the day that elvis died – i sat in the window seat of a regional passenger jet that was waiting on the tarmac when the announcement was made from the cockpit.
it was already in the newspaper, as i could plainly see in the hands of a man seated in the row in front of us.
an image of mr. presley on the cover of a norwegian daily: this mysterious semi-tragic celebrity, dead while in his 50s.
with the death of michael jackson, i wonder how it feels for kids today?
the memories of mr. jackson are a combination of bizarre real-life experiences (i met him at spotwelders in venice, california back in 1994) and the fact that i had my first school vacation crush while “Rock with You” was a top 10 hit, or how my brothers and i used to habitually freak out to “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’.” we improvised an oddball dance to that last number.
what a strange life he had.
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