’ It was their turn then to begin that endless walk. Each step seemed frozen in time, a slow motion replay of the big play at the Super Bowl. She lo...ked around the small Vegas wedding chapel at the smiling faces…her children, his, a scattering of friends. She looked to the raised dais at the front of the chapel. Damn, this Elvis was good. Not the fat, cheesy older one. Not the boyish man-child that had stepped on the world’s stage. The man…the mature one in black leather that had ruled this. Talking about it as we packed seemed to help him, but he didn’t act like himself again until after he got home that night and had his parent’s wrath to distract him for a while.My dad had sent his private jet to collect us that night so that I could be home in time for Richie’s birthday the next day.Ah, there’s nothing like the pitter-patter of little feet running to greet you when you come home.Of course, that’s only if you can hear it over the long squealing. More

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