Elvis and Me by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley — An Audiobook Review
A memoir from the only Queen to the King of Rock n’ Roll
My stiff, stern, seemingly un-fun Hungarian father harboured a secret — he was once — cool. I discovered this on family road trips heading out into the wildlands of British Columbia for camping or the odd weekend excursions to not-too-distant hot springs. During those rare breaks from his rules and the endless chores where he taught work ethic, two 8-track tapes slugged into the camper-vans stereo gave hints that the old man had a few surprises. ABBA and Elvis shed a different light on my stoic father.
It’s funny now that I look back — when I hit my teens, my father was only in his late 40s. I am nearly the same age now, with a teenager of my own, as he was then, with me, yet I cannot think of him as ever being youngish.
Aside from the Elvis Greatest Hits 8-track, he had a few Elvis vinyl records, “The Yellow Rose of Texas” being the one I recall most. I became an Elvis fan because of my father, and one day, he made a startling confession: He had seen Elvis perform live! That was very cool.
Like millions of other fans, I thought Elvis was incredible. The man could sing anything, and it was his love for the Gospel that planted a seed — you could be cool and a bit bad…