Long Live The King

Just 3 days before my eighth birthday, I was swinging from the rail of the porch on the clubhouse Pop and his friends built for me. Not a tree house, but an eight by eight one room clubhouse with a rollaway bed a lawnchair and an old endtable.
My youngest sister was in the yard and there were a few other people standing around, but I don't remember who off the top of my head.
Ma came out and told us Elvis was dead. At the time I had no idea why this was a big deal, but I remember just the same.
Since then I've figured out why this was a big deal... The King is dead, long live The King.