It's been forty years since we lost the King of Rock & Roll. I admit it: I'm still all shook up over it. I'm not the only one. On the 40^th anniversary of the King's death, thousands will visit Graceland. There will be enormous services and remembrances around the world. Millions will gather together to remember Elvis Presley.

My gathering will be somewhat smaller, but it's tradition and I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Every year my friends and I get together at my house on August 16^th. We all bring out our old Elvis records - the first ones we ever owned. I go up to the attic and drag down the old suitcase record player we listened to in school. We pop popcorn and listen to Elvis all night long.

The records are scratched. Some are so worn down the needle glides right across the first or last part of the song. But we don't mind. We tell stories of first kisses, first dates, and first dances. We talk about playing J-13 on the coffee shop jukebox, which half of us think was "All Shook Up" and the other half think was "Teddy Bear".  (It was "All Shook Up".)

This year we'll be honoring the date with small 40^th anniversary gifts for each other. I think one of the girls is making a banner. The records, the player, and we might be a little older and a bit more worn, but this year won't be that different than last. It won't even be that different from all those years ago in school. After all, we're still us. And the King...well, he's still the King.