... when you heard that Elvis died?
I sure do. Thirty years ago today I was a semi-sullen teenager untimely ripped from my pursuit of a suntan. Two weeks rolling through the misty mountains of Tennessee - in a Dodge Dart, no less, with father, mother and not quite teenaged sister - was not where I wanted to be. And then, suddenly, there was nothingbutElvis on the AM radio.
I'm headed south for a bit again. Just checked out 37 hours worth of books on CD from the library. Because you never know.