The King and his Throne

I thought of my Dad’s hands today. Something on TV triggered it and I could see them as clear as day. He had smooth, flat nails and wore a signet ring. He’s been gone for over 40 years.

It’s one of the joys of being on the other side of 50 (yes, I am on the other side of 60 now, but this started a long time ago) that you have such a great stash of memories that come back at you in a random fashion. Most of us are lucky enough to have had relatively happy lives and so these unexpected memories usually either fill us with warmth or make us laugh out loud.

Recently, I remembered being shown through the posh suite in one of Seattle’s best hotels. It was at a company do and I was in my twenties. As we passed through the large, lush bathroom and noticed the phone on the wall above the toilet paper – keep in mind this was in the pre-cellphone 1960’s – we were told that Elvis Presley had stayed in this suite while making “It Happened at the World’s Fair”. To this day, when you mention Elvis I have the mental picture of The King sitting on the throne with a phone in his hand.