Dear Friends,

With summer coming to a close, many of you have asked me about our Summer of Elvis. (For those of you who are new, I am a little strange in the fact that I like to name my summers. If you haven’t read about The Summer of No, you can read it here.) I’ve had a few weeks to think about our Summer of Elvis and to really contemplate what I gained from it. I’ve thought about why Elvis became so important to my little family, how sometimes we can glean meaning from the oddest things, and what specifically the Summer of Elvis has taught me.

Listen carefully, because I’m going to share with you the important things I learned from our summer.

Are you ready?

You might want to grab a pencil and notepad to write this down.

This summer, The Summer of Elvis, I learned this . . .

Nothing.

Nada.

Not one darn thing.

I haven’t got anything important to tell you about what I took away from The Summer of Elvis because frankly, I didn’t take away anything from it.

It was just really fun. And that’s it.

Scott, I, and the kids visited Graceland at the end of May and we were all touched and surprised at the life of Elvis. We learned little things about his life and growing up in the South, something we could all relate to. We visited his gravesite which was quiet and beautiful. Then we rolled our windows down and blasted Elvis music all the way home. We were hooked.

This summer we listened to all the Elvis songs we could find. We helped Hugh search music shops for old Elvis records. We listened to podcasts about Elvis (my favorite is Malcom Gladwell’s podcast called Analysis, Parapraxis, Elvis). Hugh learned to play “Suspicious Minds” on the piano and we would all sing along as he played – Hugh taking the lead with Amelia on back-up vocals. We got Elvis books from the library. We researched how Elvis died, where Priscilla is now, and who is in charge of his vast fortune.

There were late night discussions with friends around our dining room table about whether Elvis was the real deal or if he had stolen his style from less famous R&B singers from the South. The kids learned that their grandparents had once been crazy teenage Elvis fans who had actually gotten to attend some of his concerts. We learned about young Elvis, movie star Elvis, and not-so-healthy chubby Elvis (but like Amelia says, “We don’t talk about fat Elvis”). We soon realized that Elvis is something you can discuss with almost anyone. Elvis was connecting us to all sorts of people in a lot of different ways.

So maybe there is a lesson in The Summer of Elvis after all. Maybe the lesson is that there are times when we just need to have some fun. Maybe we need to step off the ladder, put on an Elvis record, and sing as loud as we can. Maybe it’s ok to do something just for the joy of it all – with no other reason than that.

I’m sure there have been times in your life, as there has been in mine, when there isn’t much fun happening. When Hugh was first diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes and we were in the hospital with him, I couldn’t imagine ever having fun again. I thought our life was going to be a nightmare of shots and constant worry and numbers that I didn’t even understand. There wasn’t any laughter and there was definitely no fun.

But you know what? That was over 5 years ago and we have had so much fun since then. I guess I could have said no to all the fun – I could have used Diabetes as an excuse to never laugh, never play, never indulge in the joy of life. But, literally, where is the fun in that?????

Life is a lot of hard things, but it’s also a lot of fun. There are times to work hard, there are times that are painful, there are times when we just can’t laugh, but there are also times when the fun returns. I promise it will. You just have to open yourself up to it.

And if you’re kind of stuck right now, maybe in a place where there’s not a lot of joy and not a lot of fun, may I suggest putting on an Elvis record or downloading his greatest hits? Close the door and practice your best Elvis dance moves, sing until you are out of breath, and whenever you leave the room, announce that Elvis has left the building. It’s not magic, but it is a start.

After all, Elvis would want you to have a little fun.                   

Thank you, thank you very much.