Growing up in Nashville, I was fortunate to rub elbows with some big names. Just lucky. One cannot help who your “across the street neighbor” is.

I’m going to do a little “name dropping”, but, the truth be told, I have many firsthand stories to tell about famous people. I just happened to be in that place at that time. I will tell them sooner or later. Chet Atkins and my father use to get drunk as shit playing poker in our living room. That one’s for much later.

Anyway, my neighbor Neil Matthews was a member of the Jordanaires, who sang back up for Elvis.

Neil’s dog Pepsi, might just as well been mine; she stayed by my side all day every day. She was a Collie who knew how to deal with the goats next door. Beautiful dog.

We lived on a dead end, so there was no traffic; except for me teaching my little brother to drive…I was thirteen, and he was ten, no one ever came up the street.

I'm playing with the dog in the front yard, and a black Cadillac turned into the driveway, and pulled up next to me. The back window was rolled down, and the guy inside says, ”that Pepsi sure is a smart dog”. I didn’t think anything about it, but in hindsight, I said “Yes Sir” to the King. I do remember three or four more cars besides his.

I had no idea who these people were. No idea whatsoever.

The next thing I know, I’m pitching a tennis ball to Elvis, who is throwing it to Pepsi, who is bringing it to him, and then he’s throwing it to me. We’d switch up: He’d throw it to me, and I’d throw it to Pepsi, who’d bring it to me, and I’d toss it to Elvis.

This is no shit.

I was expected to attend the backyard cookout.

I didn’t know how cool that was until my mother told me years later.

If I remember correctly, the King helped me dress my hot dog.