Lessons From Elvis
My daughter, Abby, and I spent a few days in Memphis and Nashville.
Her lifelong dream had been to see Elvis’ home, Graceland.
Elvis is significant in my life, too. My cousin was obsessed with Elvis as we grew up so I experienced the power of his music while I watched him implode as a man.
As Abby and I walked through Graceland, I felt the same complicated, conflicting feelings that I hear many people express about the King.
Yet, even as Elvis sabotaged himself, he modeled lessons for all of us.
First, follow your passion.
For Elvis, it was always about the music. The parties, the crowds, the motorized toys were fun, but the music was his core.
For me, it’s always about the land. The meetings, the mechanics, the people I meet are all fun, but taking care of the land is at my core. I think it is for most ranchers.
Second, ignore the Imposter Syndrome, that niggling little feeling that we are faking it, we’re really not as confident, skilled or nice as people think we are.
Abby and I stopped in Tupelo, where Elvis was born on the wrong side of the tracks. Tupelo, like so many towns, frowned on those poor saps who would not support their families. The town leaders made fun of kids with worn out clothes -- until they realized they could profit from one of those raggedy kids.
A part of Elvis was always that raggedy kid, even when he wore a $100,000 jumpsuit on stage.
Yet, he owned his power.
Despite what happened behind the scenes, Elvis ignored that niggling little voice and stepped up to every performance. He talked about where he came from and stood tall, proud of where he was going.
As ranchers, none of us needs to brag, but we know the power of our roots.
Abby and I spent a Friday night on Nashville’s Music Row, among the throngs of partiers.
Abby noticed they were all dressed in shimmery, beautiful clothes, not like us.
“Don’t worry,” I advised, “We’re from Montana. They all want to be like us.”
An hour later, a stranger standing in line for mouth-watering ribs behind us made a point to compliment my outfit, the same outfit I wear every time I go to town: Wranglers, relatively clean boots, a button-up shirt and a hat.
Third, creativity really can change the world.
We don’t think about it much now, but when Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins started blending southern rhythms with gospel call and response, the world expanded.
Opinions about race, religion, and status changed. Those opinions led to changes in policy. Maybe we need another Elvis today.
Fourth, take care of business.
Elvis relied on others to manage his money. He didn’t bother to look out for his own interests, instead he assumed others would. He was almost broke when he died.
But Elvis’ money woes paved the way for us to see Graceland in all of its 1970’s glory. The shag rugs, the shiny chandeliers, and the Jungle Room where Elvis recorded a jam session. I was especially proud to recognize the familiar bathroom décor. Elvis’ bathroom tile was the same Pepto Bismal pink as mine. Glidden must have had a pink tile sale in 1974.
As Abby and I toured Graceland, we had to peek around a lot of gray hair. We tried not to kick canes out from under other tourists.
Obviously, managers at Graceland recognize that their target demographic is quickly dying off. They are adapting by adding dinosaur and space exhibits to attract families. They are taking care of business.
Abby and I had a chance to drive through some upscale neighborhoods, too. We wondered which celebrity lived where as we admired iron gates, stone walls and long driveways that led to a house hidden in the trees.
As soon as Elvis bought Graceland, he had iron gates and a stone wall built in front of his property.
“Hey, Mom,” Abby said between bites of her grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich, “We’re celebrities.”
I raised my eyebrows at her.
“We have a gate, a fence, a long driveway and trees around our house, too.”
I’ll remember that this winter when I step out into the wind and snow to open the gate before I guess where our two-track dirt path leads to the house.