It’s All Just “Too Much”

Two weeks ago, I received a gift from my cousin Kerry, a commissioned piece of artwork from the gifted Sari Lennick, showing Elvis, superimposed over a couple of pages from Stephen King’s On Writing. It’s already on my wall, where I can see it from my (new) writing desk.

Can it be a coincidence that in the same month I received yet ANOTHER Elvis-related thing to ALSO hang up on my wall? It feels like something is happening and in the midst of the pandemic, in the midst of two funerals in the last week, which I had to attend via Zoom (my heart hurts), and at the tail-end of an absolutely horrendous week in America – to have Elvis arrive, a long-delayed Elvis – feels meaningful.

So here’s the story.

Last year my good friend Charlie gave me old sheet music for Elvis’ “Too Much” – released during Elvis’ apocalyptic-take-no-prisoners-to-the-stratosphere year of 1956. The whole thing is green, green cover, green musical notes, green text. On the back of the sheet music is a stacked series of first lines of songs, the four songs Elvis sang in Love Me Tender, also released in 1956. Like I said: Elvis had been around for two years at that point, causing riots in the South and Southeast and Texas … but 1956 was the year it went to another level, a level no one – beyond the Pharaohs … and maybe Charlie Chaplin – reached). “Too Much” went to #1, as so many other of her tracks did in 1956. It was a juggernaut. I love how … his vocals here are almost, alllllmost, a parody of his own style. He was so free with it, so unself-conscious.

The sheet music is so old Charlie gave it to me wrapped in plastic.

And there the matter stood for months. I knew I wanted to get it framed, with front/back cover opened up – I figure since I don’t have a piano, I can “give up” the piano notes on the inside. But since that would be an odd and non-standard size, I’d have to pay to get it framed. I couldn’t just go to Target. So I kept it on a shelf, waiting for the day.

I had a little extra cash in early March and decided to go for it. I dropped it off to be framed at a Michael’s near me. I had a great consultation with the framer. She wanted to protect the sheet music from the glass: if the glass lay on top of the sheet music, that gentle pressing might damage the sheet music, so there’s a way to raise the glass just slightly off the music, through little tiny thingies placed under the mat board, something I would never have known to do, let alone know how to do. You get what you pay for. I really appreciated her thoughtfulness, care, and ideas. She was attuned to color: the vivid green of the sheet music needed to be showed off, not overwhelmed. How should the mat be? Could she create an illusion of a marquee? She really cared.

And let’s not forget: when I carefully took the sheet music out of the plastic to show her what I wanted, she sighed, “Oh, Elvis.” She was happy to see him.

If anything is going to survive this pandemic intact, it will be love of Elvis.

I was meant to pick it up on March 27.

We know how that goes. A week later, I self-quarantined, a couple days later, all the stores considered non-essential in New Jersey shut down, and poor Elvis was stuck in the back room of Michael’s for 2 months. I’d forget him for days at a time, and then suddenly would remember and get a bolt of stress. Would he be okay? What is Michael’s goes bankrupt like so many other businesses? How will I retrieve my precious irreplaceable sheet music?

Last week, I get a call from the framer, the actual woman who did the work. Michaels is reopened and the framer was picking up where she left off, and she was happy to tell me Elvis was ready! (I so wish I remember her name.) She remembered me. I suppose in the life of a framer it’s not every day someone comes in wanting to frame old Elvis sheet music.

The store proper isn’t open yet, but they were doing curbside pickups, and I went yesterday. I was told to pull up to the store, call the store number, tell them what you want, and someone will come out. I called and was transferred to the framing department. I spoke to her, and recognized her voice, the one who did the work. She told me she’d be right out with my Elvis.

I waited near the door. There were others standing around in socially-distant formation, wearing masks, also waiting for whatever it is they were there to pick up.

She emerged, mask on, holding my Elvis wrapped in brown paper.

I swear I am not making this up: as she came out of the building, I waved at her, and she called out to me: “ELVIS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING.”

I burst out laughing, and she said, “God, I’ve always wanted to say that!”

Clearly I left my precious Elvis sheet music in the right hands. It’s been a horrific week and this small warm moment – plus her beautiful work framing an object that means a lot to me – really helped. I almost couldn’t believe her “Elvis left the building” comment was happening as it was happening, but Elvis has a way of creating such moments. Also, and I’m just stating the facts … I tend to have weird moments of connection with total strangers. Once upon a time, I did a whole series on here about my extraordinary interactions with cab drivers (if you search for it you will find it, I created a whole tab, since these moments happened so often). A Sikh cab driver once said to me as he dropped me off, after a long drive stuck in traffic, where we talked about many things and he told me about what it means to him to be a Sikh and it was very beautiful and peaceful-sounding – anyway he said, impulsively – “I feel like if we got married it might work out.” I said, “You know, I’ve been having the same thought.” And I really had been! We just had this peaceful very giving conversation out of the pure blue sky. Shit like that happens to me all the time. I just accept it and feel like it has nothing to do with me per se.

In this case, I give Elvis the credit.

Here he is. Here is her beautiful work. Such a nice gift from such a good friend.