“We’re going through the gates!”  People flock to Graceland year-round in Memphis, Tennessee. Some men appear wearing blue suede shoes while others comb their slick black hair into the legendary upswept pompadour.  An Elvis-wanna-be directs his attention to a crowd exiting a tour bus, smiling that sexy half smirk that causes women to swoon.  His sultry wink is cast from hooded baby blues, and you find yourself wondering, “Is The King of Rock and Roll still alive?”.  Inside the modest home, framed gold records and platinum albums hang in hallways proving this was a man who sold more than any other artist in history.  If you look closely, a vulnerable side is visible in the life of this immortal rock star.  Just when you begin to wonder if it is all an illusion, another slender, handsome stranger approaches wearing a blue silk scarf draped around his neck.  The mob goes crazy snapping photos with their cell phones.  He stops for moment when a young blonde beauty calls out the cherished name of “Elvis”.   He strums his guitar and swivels his hips to a rhythm and blues tune hypnotically causing her to feel giddy and lightheaded before turning on his heels to disappear.  “Thank you, thank you very much.”