Over the years I have written a number of times about Elvis week in the Collingwood area.
It was and remains a controversial issue with the locals, but I enjoy it. I don’t really care if Elvis knew about Collingwood or not. Some feel it should be prerequisite to holding a tribute festival. In that case, we certainly would be limiting our choices for a musical celebration.
When I first retired, the Elvis festival was one of the first events I experienced. Over the years Judy and I have loved the nonsense attached to the legend known as Elvis. Friday night in Collingwood is the only place to be. If the singers were terrible or excellent, it didn’t matter. It was about the people. I love to people watch.
Part of my pleasure comes from my personal history with Elvis. When I was in high school this fellow known as Elvis took over the spotlight from all the teenage boys in our neighbourhood. I was a blue-eyed wavy-haired blonde and then along came Elvis. There he was with his slick black hair, his quivering lip and dancing hips. I was not a fan!
Since I have outlived the legend, I am less envious of his life. I no longer have that great blonde hair but I’m still here.
When it first began, the festival was a lark. Impersonators from all walks of life! Many were just a joke to watch and hear. Over the years, through divine intervention, the so-so Elvii have been eliminated and the worst we have are at least in the category of being good.
In the beginning, there appeared to be neither rhyme nor reason to the format. One night in the early years, I heard Teddy Bear so many times consecutively, I thought maybe that was the only song Elvis ever recorded.
Today it’s so professionally presented and it’s great fun to enjoy. Much of the crowd is loyal but sadly aging and yet I’m amazed by the number of younger spectators that appreciate the fun.
Judy and I usually spend Friday night downtown with all the other older groupies enjoying the fun and nonsense of years long ago.
I think the most profound statement came from my visiting granddaughter Elise when she was about six years old. She asked innocently, “Don’t these people know Elvis is dead?” Love those youngsters!
Here it is many years later and Elvis is still kicking, dead or not. My granddaughter is now in high school and gets very annoyed if she has to miss visiting during Elvis week. Can you believe it? My Elise is an Elvis fan. I’m still losing girls to Elvis.
Having left the building for Elvis festival, Kent Walton can be reached at [email protected].
