Oh, Elvis!; Scenes from the Journey, vol. 23, no. 9

Oh, Elvis

I saw a picture of young Elvis the other day. It was all smoldering glance and swiveling pelvis. Oh, Elvis! You stole all those funky black songs and drove the white teenagers crazy. Their parents hated you for it, but they would have hated those songs even more if they’d known the origins of them.

Elvis, it’s because of you that I stopped listening to pop music. I wasn't ready for you. I wanted life to continue as it had: “Doggy in the Window” for those lite moments, “Red Sails in the Sunset” for dancing in the dark. Harmless musical movies with songs like “It Might as Well be Spring” (State Fair). Then you came along with your “all shook up” and before I could even adjust the volume on my radio console, the world had changed. There was no room any longer for “For All We Know We May Never Meet Again” or “You Go To My Head” or “My Funny Valentine”. No room for Duke Ellington or for the Glenn Miller sound-alikes. You were the beginning of the end for me.

From this distance, now, Elvis, I find your songs a bit tame and more than a little charming. I’m sorry life turned out so badly for you (ending in death, that is; but then, what’s surprising about that?). I don’t like change, but you must have hated going from slim and sexy to fat and drug-addled. The price of fame, I suppose. But I have to admit that you really did have it when you were young; I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate your “it” at the time. But thanks for the memories.

Copyright (c) 2056 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
ListenandLive: http://www.listenandlive.com/
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor

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Oh, Elvis!; Scenes from the Journey, vol. 23, no. 9

Oh, Elvis

I saw a picture of young Elvis the other day. It was all smoldering glance and swiveling pelvis. Oh, Elvis! You stole all those funky black songs and drove the white teenagers crazy. Their parents hated you for it, but they would have hated those songs even more if they’d known the origins of them.

Elvis, it’s because of you that I stopped listening to pop music. I wasn't ready for you. I wanted life to continue as it had: “Doggy in the Window” for those lite moments, “Red Sails in the Sunset” for dancing in the dark. Harmless musical movies with songs like “It Might as Well be Spring” (State Fair). Then you came along with your “all shook up” and before I could even adjust the volume on my radio console, the world had changed. There was no room any longer for “For All We Know We May Never Meet Again” or “You Go To My Head” or “My Funny Valentine”. No room for Duke Ellington or for the Glenn Miller sound-alikes. You were the beginning of the end for me.

From this distance, now, Elvis, I find your songs a bit tame and more than a little charming. I’m sorry life turned out so badly for you (ending in death, that is; but then, what’s surprising about that?). I don’t like change, but you must have hated going from slim and sexy to fat and drug-addled. The price of fame, I suppose. But I have to admit that you really did have it when you were young; I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate your “it” at the time. But thanks for the memories.

Copyright (c) 2056 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
ListenandLive: http://www.listenandlive.com/
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor

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Cozy; Scenes from the Journey, vol. 23, no. 8

Cozy

Sometimes I think that coziness is the feeling we prize the most. Intense feelings are tempting (passion, thrill, anger), but for the long run, it’s coziness that is irresistible. Note the recent fad for the Danish “hygge” lifestyle.

When our Georgia was two she was given a hand-me-down pair of footed pajamas by her friend Madeleine, and Madeleine’s mother, Bina, had delivered the pajamas to Georgia. From then on Georgia called them her “Cozy Bina’s.”

We all have some sort of Cozy Bina in our lives. I like to dress up when I go out. But I am never really comfortable until I come home and change into my flannel nightie. And although I spend almost all day every day “doing” (I am a Capricorn), my favourite time of day is 8 p.m., when I, in flannel nightie, crawl between the heating-pad-warmed sheets with a book. Cozy. I wish we had a cozy nook in the house. I would feel less childish if I were curled up in, say, a window seat reading the currently favourite book. Bed should not be one’s only cozy place. But that’s how it is in this drafty house: the warmest, coziest spot is the bed, the room heated by a space heater, the bed by a heating pad.

We’re talking about winter coziness, of course. Can one be cozy in summer? In a shady hammock, maybe. Or on an expensive, comfortable chaise. As long as I can have my feet up I can be cozy. So I imagine myself outside on a warm day, sitting in half-sun, half-shade, my feet resting on the edge of the deck while my chair is a foot below, on the flagstone level.

Back to cozy feelings. I’ve been talking about physical coziness. But emotional coziness is also important. Perhaps you might imagine sharing a sofa with your current significant other, each absorbed in your own book or project—there for each other but allowing each other the space to grow and experience. That’s emotional coziness. Or a grandmother reading to the toddler in her lap. That’s a coziness that is probably more conscious in the grandmother but just as fulfilling, if unconscious, to the child.

Perhaps I need to spend more time cultivating coziness. A cozy feeling. To do this I’ll need to become aware of just what brings about the feeling, whether physically or emotionally, and then strive to put myself in that situation as often as possible.

Emotional coziness is present when you can feel yourself being relaxed and full. If you notice that your stomach is in knots, say, or your shoulders are up around your ears, then you are not cozy. You can counteract this first by consciously relaxing and then, if that doesn’t work, by changing your situation. Perhaps the people surrounding you don’t generate coziness. Imagine riding the crowded subway. No, not much coziness there. Perhaps a feeling of physical comfort and safety is a prerequisite—not in itself sufficient to elicit a cozy feeling, but without that feeling you’ll never reach the coziness.

Introverts can find coziness when alone or with one other person. Extroverts? I don’t know.  Maybe they don’t prize coziness.

Copyright (c) 2026 Ann Tudor

Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

ListenandLive: http://www.listenandlive.com/

Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor

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