Ladies and Gentleman, Elvis has left the building...

In the year 1973 I was all of 9 years old, living in Las Vegas. And not the new extremely expensive playground for the rich it is today. The old Vegas, rat pack, smoke filled, drink in both hands Vegas. Back when there was the Dunes (which is where my mom and dad met) The Sands, The Landmark, The Riviera, back when Fremont street was great. It was during this year that my Dad got his 15 minutes of fame, or rather his 28 days of fame. In 1973 there was a period of time that my dad was out of work. One day while looking through the job ads in the newspaper he came across an ad to be a body guard for Elvis Presley while he did his 28 day engagement at what was at the time the Hilton hotel. My dad being a long time fan of Elvis decided he would go down and apply. He in fact did apply and got an interview. My dad told them that he had been an MP in the Air Force. They hired him.
Now I should back up for a minute or rather speed up I guess. This Elvis story has been in our family for years. Heck I even remember Dad being a body guard at the time, although vaguely. But last night my daughter Sara asked me "Dad is it true that grandpa Rich used to be a body guard for Elvis?" I told her that it was indeed true but at that moment I realized that even though I knew it to be true I knew nothing about it. I didn't know any of the details. Elvis being what he was, I had to ask myself how come I didn't know anything about what was to surely be a fantastic story. So the other day I called my dad to finally find out what the deal was with this Elvis thing. So on with the story.

Elvis came to Vegas a lot back then. Vegas was Elvis's favorite and was a common stop for him. The Hilton, or "The International" as it was known at the time was one, if not the biggest hotel in Vegas at the time. And this time he was going to be at the Hilton from January 26th to February 23rd. I guess there were three shifts of personal body guards supplied to Elvis by the hotel for around the clock protection and this is what Dad did. Elvis as you might imagine occupied the penthouse suite and Dad said that one of his duties was standing at Elvis's door to make sure anyone that wanted in Elvis's room had a pass. I guess Elvis seldom left his room during the day. At the time Elvis was god and he really couldn't go anywhere without creating pandemonium. Dad said the few times he did leave the hotel he would leave early, like 4am early, and be back in a few hours. I guess he would duck out for a movie from time to time. When he did, he would rent the entire theater so that he could watch a movie without being mobbed by the masses. If and when Elvis did leave his room dad would have to go with him. Elvis always had an entourage everywhere he went but the hotel always supplied a body guard do be with him anytime he was in the hotel. Dad said that sometimes he would sneak down to the kitchen with a body guard in the middle of the night for a snack. I thought that was pretty funny.

I asked Dad if he ever got to actually talk to Elvis one on one. Dad said it was hard to even get close to Elvis without a bunch of other people around but yes there were a few times when he did get to talk to him. I asked what they talked about. Dad said mostly about the area they were from. Both my Dad and Elvis are from the south. If you know anything about people from the south they talk to each other like they are all from one big family. Dad said that one night Elvis invited him to a party that was going to be held in his suite. Dad didn't go because he said he didn't feel like he would have fit in. I asked him if he regrets not going, he said he does a little. I can imagine those parties would be quite the deal. Dad said that there were a couple guys that he really liked from the Elvis group. His favorite was Red West. Red was Elvis's right hand man, if you know anything about Elvis you have heard about Red. Dad said he was pretty funny and joked around quite often. Ronnie Tutt, Elvis's drummer, was another guy my dad got along well with. He said he was a real personable guy.

Dad told me that one of his duties was to accompany Elvis to the actual show engagements and to be backstage while the show was going on. I asked what it was like to be backstage before an Elvis concert. He said it was amazing, the energy and excitement were almost overwhelming. I asked what Elvis was like before a show. He said oddly enough Elvis was always nervous. He said he did two shows a night for a month and before every single show he was very nervous, pacing back and forth, not talking to anyone. He said you would think that a guy that appeared so cool and controlled on stage wouldn't be nervous but I guess he always was.
Dad said the first night Elvis performed, a crazed woman climbed up on the stage and Dad had to run out and grab her and drag her out. I asked what that was like. Dad said having to go out and get a woman in front of thousands of people and in front of Elvis was pretty scary stuff. My Dad is a pretty laid back guy these days. I can't really imagine him wrestling crazed female Elvis fans off the stage.

After talking with Dad for about an hour I told him that he really needs to write all this down. I said there are lots of Elvis fans out there that would probably find all this interesting. I was 9 years old when all this happened. I don't remember much, but I do remember it being a pretty big deal around the house. I remember Dad coming home and telling Mom stories about what had happened that night.
I am glad I finally found out what really happened. Like I said it has been this little known story that has floated around our family for years and I realized I knew almost nothing about. Our little piece of family fame.

Small Town Life and Expansion Plates

If global warming is effecting the entire planet, someone hasn't told Granite Falls. This has been the coldest, snowiest winter in memory. Of course maybe its always like this in Granite Falls and since this is my first full winter here I am just finding out what all the other Granite Fallsians have already known. Either way its cold. So cold in fact that our pipes froze this weekend. Frozen pipes!!! In the NW? Its like I was back in Missoula all over again. Only worse, because when you live in the NW you don't think it will get cold enough for pipes to freeze. So when the temperature dipped to 12 degrees Saturday night it caught me with my proverbial pants down.

I woke up early Sunday to make coffee and read the news when I discovered the no water problem. I figured that the frozen pipes must be under the house so I run out to the shop in my jammies and slippers to get my propane heater. Me, my propane heater and the propane tank have to crawl through the trap door that leads under the house. Nothing like cold cob webs in your face on a frosty Sunday morn. I fire up the propane heater under the house. And to answer the question you are thinking, yes I did consider the danger of fire under the house. I love to poke fate with a sharp stick right in the eye just to see what happens. I heated the under side of the house and yet we still didn't have water. It was supposed to get warmer as the day went on so I figured maybe this problem will cure itself with time.

I took the family out to breakfast in hopes of returning later for a shower. No luck. When we got back at noon the water was still frozen and now the temperature was headed south again. UGH. Sometime Sunday night I had a light come on in my head and I remembered that our water meter out by the road was basically uncovered and on top of the ground. I bet it froze there.

Monday I take off work at 10 and head home to try and heat up the meter. I get the propane torch and head out to the road. The neighbor guy came out and helped. Nothing will draw men from every corner of the planet like a mechanical problem that needs fixing. Boy howdy do we like fixing things. ESPECIALLY when it involves using a propane torch. Bob (the neighbor) and I pass the torch back and forth in an unspoken man creed that says "You will share torch time". As we start heating up the meter the ice melts and water starts shooting out of it like a geyser. We get the water shut off and see that the ice has broken the expansion plate off the bottom of the meter. Bob (the neighbor) had explained that meters have plastic plates that break off before the ice can break the main line. Oh that's good info I think to myself. I will be using that line for weeks to come. "You know Chuck, this wine is good but did you know that water meters have plastic expansion plates that will break off before the main line can break?"

Now we get our water from the city of Granite Falls, so I get on the phone and call them, no answer. The wife reminds me that its MLK day and that no one is working. OH GREAT. So I decide to drive to the city hall which is close to see if there is an emergency number on the door. No, no number. I walk across the street to the police station to see if they have a number. Police station closed also. I guess holidays are a good day to commit a crime in Granite. So I walk over to the fire station. I know a kid that is a fireman there and he was working. I tell him my story and his chief says "Well lets just call Lyle (The Mayor) at home. Lyle only lives about 200 yards from the fire station so Lyle (The Mayor) says "I will be right there". About 5 minutes later the Mayor (Lyle) shows up. I explain my situation and tell him that the wife is getting pretty gamey and could he help me get water back in the house. Then I take the opportunity to try out my new line on him, "Yeah it looks as if the expansion plate has blown. You know they put those there to protect the main line". Then I hitch up my pants. I half expected him to say "Well aren't you a little satchel of plumbing facts", but he didn't. He just smiles and says "Well lets go out and take a look". Of course he knows the place. When you are the Mayor of a small town you know everything that is going on. We get to the house and look at the meter. He gets right on his phone and calls the one water guy that works for the city of Granite and asks him to come over (despite it being his day off) and fix the meter. Lyle and I stand and chat it up for about a half hour. Lyle is a fly fisherman and seems to me an all around nice guy. We discuss the fishing in our pond and what our plans are for that. He is what you would imagine a small town Mayor to be. Darn nice guy that Lyle.
I express my deepest gratitude for helping me and tell him that next summer I expect him to show up with his fly rod to fish the pond in payment for helping me. He seems quite happy with that. Soon after he left, Bill the water guy shows up to fix the meter. As soon as Bill walks up I hitch up the pants again and say "Yeah with all the cold weather we been having it looks like I blew an expansion plate". He seems incredibly impressed at my vast plumbing knowledge.
As I was walking back to the house smiling in the sun thinking about my new meter I thought, I wonder how many people in bigger towns have the Mayor come over to help fix a broken water meter on their day off. I am going to go with none.
Lucky me....

Rantings

I need to get some things off my chest and my wife is all full up on listening to me complain about all manner of frustrations that I might have at any given time. So today whilst listening to the Podcast TWIT (If you don't know what it is then forget I mentioned it) I decided that maybe a Blog is the forum for ranting or getting old and just being irritated at just about everything around me. Or just whatever.

ME: That's me over there at the right, best guess, about 39 years ago.
First off let me give you some background. I am a 42 year old office guy. Well as of yesterday I am an office guy. It hasn't always been that way. I used to be a 42 year old factory floor team leader. Things are much different now, but more on that later.
42 years old, as I type it sounds really old. I remember when I was 9 and my mom was 42. I specifically remember thinking that she was probably mere seconds from death at that age. Now I am there. When I see young kids, I just assume I am like them, then I remember, "Oh yeah, I am most certainly NOT like them", after all I am 42 with 43 coming at me like a speeding freight train.
I have a family. I have dogs. Well my wife has dogs. I am not a fan of dogs. That is a topic that I will have to commit an entire rant to explain.
My family consists of a Wife, three girls 19, 11, 4 and one boy 22. The boy (as I call him) and the 19 year old live together in a shat hole of an apt which again is another topic entirely. So now I am stuck at home with 4 girls/women with nary another man in sight. The girls scheme and plot against me as only 4 women can do. They devise plans to make me even more crazy than age by itself can. The little one is the most nuts. She will say things just to make me squint and wrinkle my forehead. She thinks I don't know her game but I am on to her. I ask her how preschool was on any given day and she will reply with something like "Blue!" Then she will giggle and run off and I am stuck standing there trying to figure out whether or not my hearing is going or if in fact she just said "Blue" in response to a "How was preschool today?" question.

The 11 year old is just coming up on the age where no matter what an adult tells her, the reaction will be of supreme annoyance at the stupidity of what was just said. I am sure she will need glasses soon to correct whatever damage rolling your eyes 853,000 times a day will cause. Come to think of it, the wife does that a lot too, although she is better at doing it where I can't see her. The tell tale signs are all the girls laughing for what appears to be no reason.

DOGS:
OK now for the dogs. We have three. Three! Not just one or God forbid two, but three. Dogs are a complete pain in the ass. If there was some market for dog hair I would be in the money let me tell you. Two Golden Retrievers can shed some hair. We don't even allow them into the main part of the house (barricaded by baby gate into the mud room) yet at any one time there will be dog hair just floating around. Dog hair makes me cringe. Some people don't like snakes or spiders or boogers, me I hate dog hair. Actually hate is a little weak, I think I can say with complete confidence that I loathe dog hair. Hey everyone has their quirks. That is one of mine. You would think that having a quirk like that would preclude me from owning dogs but that is where having 4 dog loving women in the house gets you in trouble. They all love dogs. They kiss them on the nose and nuzzle them and all other manner of grossness. I don't get it. Actually I take that back, I DO get it. Here is my two cents. I think that EVERYONE that is nutso crazo about pets is lacking a chunk of their brain that tells them that being affectionate to dogs is weird. Most people like to be affectionate with people, but there are some that like to use that part of their brain to be all kissy kissy with animals. Its almost as if they get their relationship fix from pets and not people. I have told this to my wife and she does agree to some extent. Pets never let you down, they never betray you she says. I disagree actually. I think pets betray people all the time. Dogs are notorious for it. Take this friend of ours. She has a dog that chewed the holy hell out of her dining room set. Heck it just about ate the bottom off of a couple chairs. Isn't that a betrayal? You can bet your sweet arse if my wife came home and I was under the table chewing on her 3000K dollar dining set I would be in hot water that would take years to get out of. If the dog did it, oh sure she would be mad but in just a matter of hours of the dog making the sad face she would be all over him telling him it was ok and giving him the kissy face again. Don't dogs poop on the rug? To me that is one hell of a let down. To a dog lover, not so much.
My brother has a dog that has eaten half of everything in their home. I don't get it, I just don't get the attraction. I always tell our dogs when the wife is not around that they better kneel down on their backward bending doggy knees and pray to god that my wife doesn't die before I do. There most certainly WON'T be any dog kissing done by me AND I will have all their hair lazered off. Bald Golden Retrievers, I may just have something there.

WORK:
OK now for work. Like I said earlier I just got a new job. I have for 19 years and 8 months been a factory guy. Half that time I worked as a mechanic building stuff and half that time I have been in Quality Assurance (or quality control as most people know it). In manufacturing QA is the cush job with the biggest money. They are like the police of manufacturing. A couple years ago I applied for a Team Leader position in QA and got the job. I was happy with it for the first year. After that first year, I was asked to work on a special project that was going to take a year or better. I agreed to do that although it kind of ruined me. Being able to work on your own and determine your own work load, projects etc is a very addicting way to work. For a year, I alone got to decide what projects as it related to the main project that I would work on. I alone decided how much to work and a lot of the time where I would work. That is why I said it ruined me, going back to having to report to someone constantly and dealing with the day to day monotony of putting up with peoples crap seemed unbearable.

Once back to the old TL job I immediately got to work trying to find another job. Luckily the special project gave me a lot of visibility. I had little problem landing a new position. Everyone was telling me my days in manufacturing needed to be over. I needed to cross over to the salaried ranks and start using my mind to earn my keep.

What do I do? Good question, I wish I knew. Before we left for the holidays I talked with my new boss a bit, he informed me that he wouldn't be back to work until tomorrow at the earliest, which meant that I was on my own for a couple days. If I had to put my thumb on it, I would say I am a special projects guy. I am good at getting things done. I guess that is what I have always been good at. Give me a task and I can get it done. If I had to say who I am most like, it would be McGuyver. Remember that show? That guy could get anything done with some chewing gum and a paper clip. I am the McGuyver of stuff. Need some weird thing done. I can figure out how to do it. I suppose that is what my boss will do. He has some bit of data that needs extracting, some team that needs facilitating I am there for him.

One of the biggest changes is that now instead of being on the factory floor I am now up here on the 5th floor where it is quiet and clean. There is the hushed murmurings of people chatting about headcount and deadlines and calculations to determine stress on a part and things that people that sit in clean 5th floor cubicles talk about. Oddly enough I sit one cubicle wall away from my former bosses boss (in a temporary location due to his office being remodeled). Today he is talking with someone and he says my name. He says it with a bit of tone increase for my benefit I am guessing. He is asking when my replacement (for my old TL position) will come. I say out loud "Better get two people". I thought it was pretty funny but I didn't get a chuckle back. I get the feeling there is no fun to be had up here. I am a dog poop on your chair kind of guy. It might be hard for me to go without some hijinks for long periods of time. That is one of my pet peeves, people are WAY to serious. If everyone would lighten the hell up this world would be so much more fun. Just a while ago I got on the elevator with an older guy with his arm in a sling cast type contraption. It was quite the setup. I asked nonchalantly, "Tiger?" while pointing at his arm. He gave me the wrinkled forehead look that I give my daughter when she says weird stuff. Then he replied "Rotator cuff". "Oh" I say. That was that.