My ADC from Elvis

 

by Doris

 

One of my coworkers in the late seventies was an African-American woman who I shall call Joyce.

She was a close friend of Elvis's, and occasionally received a phone call from him at the office. I was

not an Elvis fan, knew very little about him. I did know he had a daughter, but did not know her

name.

 

Joyce told me a few things about their relationship...they were friends, nothing more, but he seemed

to rely on her wisdom and would discuss his problems with her. She told me about a ring he had

given her with her initials spelled out in tiny diamonds.

 

The day Elvis died one of the clerical workers rang Joyce's phone. I heard Joyce's side of the

conversation which consisted of, "What? When?" She hung up the phone, grabbed her purse and left

the office without another word. Somehow I knew it had to do with Elvis.

 

Joyce was invited by the family to the funeral. Afterwards, when she returned to the office, as we

were talking about the funeral, I received an impression that Elvis was speaking--not necessarily to

me, more as if to himself. He repeated a word that sounded like melissa, a Greek word having to do

with honey, or bees, but also a woman's name. I got the impression this had something to do with his

daughter--that he was worried about how she would fare with him gone. As I received the

impressions I related them to Joyce. Next, I saw a picture in my mind of him wearing black pants, a

white shirt and a yellow neck-scarf of some kind. He was slim. The words came from me, "That's

when he was young and happy." Finally, I said to Joyce, "He wants to know why you don't wear

that emerald ring he gave you--the big square-cut one?"

 

"How do you know about that ring? I never told you about that," She said, then described the ring as

having small diamonds around the large stone and admitting that she hadn't worn it.

 

We discussed the "message" afterwards.I asked Joyce what his daughter's name was--she told me it

was Lisa. It was a little similar to Melissa, but not enough. Only recently, as I was thinking about the

incident, it occurred to me that he might have been saying, "Muh" Lisa (my Lisa). Who knows?

Sounds reasonable to me.

 

Joyce was a little amazed that these things had come through. About the picture I saw, she said, "I

have that picture of him in my bedroom."

 

After that incident I did become somewhat of an Elvis fan, reading the books written about him, his life and career, and his death. I have yet to see that picture of him in reality, though. Has anyone reading this seen it?

 

Doris

 

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