Today the good folks in Memphis observe the 30th anniversary of Elvis Presley's death. Last night police closed Elvis Presley Boulevard to cars, and fans filled Graceland Plaza for a candlelight vigil and a walk to and from his grave. Graceland staff kept the gates open until every last fan had a chance to visit the burial site (located conveniently to the right of the house, near the pool and racquetball courts).

I'm not much of an Elvis fan, but I love tacky decorating, crowded gift shops, and 100-degree summer days in the south as much as anyone else, so earlier this month I road-tripped down to Graceland. Even then, fans had surrounded the grave with flowers and gifts. Visitors solemnly shuffled through the "meditation garden"--made less meditative from the click of a thousand digital cameras--and reflected on Elvis' short life.

In her 1985 autobiography Elvis and Me, Priscilla Presley writes, "He taught me everything: how to dress, how to walk, how to apply makeup and wear my hair, how to behave, how to return love--his way. Over the years he became my father, husband, and very nearly God."

I'll leave it to you to find the sermon illustration in all this.