The Untold Story
Elvis, Pizza, and Andy
Andy and I talked about our various experiences with rock celebrity. My brush with greatness had been an outing one night that led to chance encounter with the Van Halen boys. I had came into my hometown and found out they were playing. It was too late to get tickets so I drove around town late that night listening to there tape on the stereo. I was driving down the street when a limousine passed going the opposite direction. There were not many limousines in our town. I turned around and followed it. I had no idea why. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I felt the guys were in the limo and their music was playing on the stereo. The limo pulled into the Hilton. I kept on driving but turned around. As I passed back by - the guys were getting out of the limo. I rolled down my window -- honked my horn -- and gave a big old Texas yell --- Yeeeehawww. They responded by giving me a yeehaw back and a wave. I was tickled pink. I didn't go around telling many people about that story. I kept it to myself. It would have been different if I would have had a camera that night. It was just me and them. I told Andy the story and he flipped out. It was 1986 and Van Halen was rock Royalty. Andy thought it was so cool that I got them to shout back a yeahaw. Andy said,
"You got to rub shoulders with greatness."
I told Andy,
"I don't know about rubbing shoulders, but we did share some vocals. It would have been better if I could have the state of mind to belt out a tune. But I wasn't thinking that fast. Yeahaw was sufficient."
That was one of the reasons I didn't like telling the story to people. I thought about it long and hard afterwards. Why couldn't I have said something like --- Kick Ass --- or Rock and Roll? They seemed just as excited as I was to shout it back at me.
That was my standard rubbing shoulders story. Andy must have been bored that night because he kept asking for more.
"Do you have any more like that one?"
I felt I was running out of stories to share with Andy. I had already told him about the autograph with Joan, dancing with the T-Birds, and a few other stories. As I was sitting with him, my amnesia block lifted. (I developed a bad case of amnesia when I was 18 years of age after a major car collision. I didn't always have access to memories prior to the age of 18.) I always explained it away by stating that "God" had a hold on my memories. Family and friends had stated they felt my loss of memory was a blessing in disguise. (My best friend had committed suicide and I had no memories of him after the car crash.) In cover up the memories of my best friend -- my whole childhood got wiped out.
When I did have the ability to recall events prior to that age of 18 -- I always felt it was with the approval of God.
I told Andy,
"You must be someone special. God just handed me a memory about someone. I have not had sight of this memory in 10 years. I am sitting here freaking out on it myself. It is amazing. One minute - I am without a memory of it for 10 years - and the next minute you walk into my life and God hands it back to me. This story must be meant for you. I have never told it to another living, breathing human being. It is amazing."
It happened in 1976. I was 16 years old. For the first time in my adult life -- I felt I got a glimpse of my childhood again. It had moments of horrendous physical pain. I told Andy,
"No wonder I can't remember. It is not a pretty sight."
I had a physical aliment and abnormality hidden within my chest as a child. It would bring sharp pains. My family had spent money trying to get it diagnosed. Nothing ever showed up on X-rays, so they felt there was a possibility I been making it up to get attention. I didn't know which was worse. The physical pain -- or not being believed. It was a horrible pain to endure alone.
(Two years after I talked to Andy -- I was in a hospital and by accident, a Doctor found the physical abnormality hidden in my chest. He remarked that he didn't know how I survived childhood. He said the nerves where such that growing would have stretched and pulled on just about ever nerve in my chest area. I told him it had. The Doctor asked how I had gotten through the pain attacks. I told the Doctor I had only shared that story with a couple of people and I was going to leave it at that for awhile.)
Elvis had a big hand in getting me through those pain attacks.
After awhile -- I had to hide when the pain came. The attacks were like seizures which brought on uncontrollable convulsions. I had spent my 18th year trying to recover from amnesia. My family had sight and memories of my past. I had gotten used to putting myself in their shoes and looking backwards at what they had sight of. When I did recall my childhood while I was talking to Andy - it was easy to see it through their eyes instead of my own. When the childhood Doctor failed to find anything wrong on a X-ray, they felt there was nothing else which could be done. The Doctor is the one who suggested it may have been a form of acting out. That is when I started hiding the attacks and seizures. I didn't want people to watch. It would cause them pain as well. My Dad had sat me down and explained how there was no money in the budget to take me to a specialist. What ever it was - I would generally live through it. He told me how it was invisible to the eyes, ears, and feelings of others. He told me it might be best to keep it to myself and not drag the whole family down into the misery I was going to have to ultimately endure alone. I had seen the frustration on the faces of both my parents. I had also seen their tears. That is why I hid it away after awhile. They would know. I would tell them I felt a fit coming on and I needed to be alone. I would excuse myself and go off to be alone. I remembered they would walk in on me from time to time. They would just hang their head low and back out of the room. After amnesia at the age of 18, my siblings said I would throw some of the most "god" awful fits imaginable. So - for my young mind, my family could do nothing but add to the misery that was already in place.
One Christmas - my Grandmother gave me a small little record player. She told me to get some popular records from my Uncles. One of them gave me an Elvis single 45. The first time I heard him singing - it did something to me inside. It was by accident that I discovered the magic in his voice. I had an attack one day and put on the record to drown out the screams and sobs I would make. If anyone walked in on the seizure pained attacks - they would see me with a mouth full of blanket, pillow, or towels. I would have my fists clinched and holding onto the bed sheets. My body would be flapping uncontrollably as the shock waves of pain rippled through my tiny body.
I told Andy,
"To give you a visual of what it was like and an understanding of everyone was going through, and not just me. Imagine walking into a room and seeing a young 8 year old child covered in gasoline that was ablaze and burning. Now imagine your stuck in place and there is nothing you can do. Imagine the torment that young child would express from the heat and pain of the blaze on him. Well -- that was what was going on inside of me. It would be hotter than any fourth of July firecracker inside of me. If Monty Hall came into my room and gave me a choice between three doors -- and three doors only. If he told me behind Door number one was a ton of dynamite they were going to stick up my ass and light ----- and behind Door number two was a blender full of glass they were going to make me drink -- then shake me up in a tumbler -- and then make me crap it all out my butt, and finally -- behind door number three was my regular seizure pain. You have no idea how fast I would have been shouting out Door Number ONE or TWO .... Monty. I want Door Number One or Door Number Two. I don't want Door number Three. Doors one and two would have been a fantastic relief to me and my mind. I felt Door two and one would just tickle my funny bone."
It was during one of these fits -- that the sound of Elvis's voice penetrated me in such a way that ease the pain. My Uncles had given me 5 or 6 different 45's. I had put on several of them before. The purpose was to drown out the noise I made when I screamed. None of the others had the effect his voice had on me. It was like medicine. I felt he was singing right directly to me. When my attack was over - I ran to my Mom shouting,
"Who is this singing on this record? I swear he has magic in his voice. Pure Magic. He helped me. He reached right out of that record held my hand. You know how many attacks I have had in the past. AIN'T no one ever touched me like that. He touched me inside and the pain just eased away. It was the smallest one I have ever had."
My Mom told me who Elvis had been. (Strange but in 1968 -- prior to his comeback special - he was considered a has been. Back in the day when she was young -- he was all the rage.
"You liked him did you? Usually he was known for driving the girls crazy with his magic voice. If he had magic working the guys - the guys didn't talk about it to much. Son, when you get a little older. You might want to keep that to yourself."
Afterwards -- I developed a real relationship with that fellow named Elvis. To me, he was my best friend in the world. When I felt an attack coming on, I would shout out,
"Elvis! I need you. I need you now."
When I was talking to Andy in 1986 - I was looking back on my childhood with an adult perspective. It was astonishing to me. I didn't know if it was the power of childhood imagination which led my mind to create an image of Elvis coming into my room when I screamed for him. When I looked back on it - it was spectacular to recall. It was a transparent image, but vivid. I had no idea how I would have created a likeness of him in mind. I had never seen an image of him. The first time I saw him in the flesh so to speak was on the televised comeback special. I asked my Mom how it was possible to create him in my imagination and have it look exactly like he looked on television. My Mom suggested that I had probably seen a photo him before and had forgotten about it on the surface of my mind.
Elvis, Pizza, and Andy | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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