Can’t Help Falling in Love with Elvis, 35 Years Later

As usual, my sister Lynda had to go and ruin everything. August 16, 1977, had started off just fine. Kindergarten was still a week away. My father had a rare day off from the Memphis Police homicide unit. And we were moving into our new home, the suburban “upstairs-downstairs” house I had always wanted. I was bumping on my butt down those newly-carpeted dream stairs when Lynda came galloping over me with the news she’d just heard on the radio: …