I'll never forget that day. Like the Iran hostage situation, John Lennon's murder and the Challenger disaster later, this was a day to be forever embedded into my memory. I was seven years old, had only been a fan for two years. Elvis was my favorite, except for The Monkees. I had been out playing with friends, and I returned home to watch the old 60s TV show "Batman". (I had to see if he'd get out of his latest predicament.) When I turned on the TV, initially there were commercials, and then a news bulletin interrupted to announce Elvis had died. Even at such a young age, I felt a strange sense of saddness come over me...like I just lost a family member or something. I didn't just cry, I bawled my eyes out. It was unthinkable. How did this happen? How could it have happened? WHY did it happen? To this day, these questions plague me. I lost a part of myself when Elvis died....and to be honest, I think we all did. Even today, nearly 30 years later, I still cry sometimes.