Itยs hit me, finally. I know most Memphians will know exactly what I mean, too. Iยve fallen subject to Elvisism.
Ah, yes. The innocent chit-chatters have afflicted me with a dash of regional discrimination. Any of you who have grown up in ยthe land of the King,ย have, Iยm sure, felt it too. Somehow a cultural hero becomes the postcard for an entire population. ยYou grew up in Memphis? Ah . . . Elvis!ย
Are you with me?
Think of it in terms of percentages. How many people have you met randomly and shared the obligatory ยso, where are you fromย exchange only to be subject to a 15-minute Elvis-loving rampage? You walk away knowing where they were when he died, how fabulous their Elvis costume party was back in 1983, and with a desperate hope that you can find a way to avoid eliciting this sort of information from people that you havenยt known for more than three minutes.
Maybe this is speculative on my part, or exaggerated, since I havenยt really lived in Memphis all that long. But I think, just recently, Iยve discovered exactly what it must be like. Iยll explain with some generalized examples:
Person X: So, where are you from?
Me: New Jersey.
Person X: Oh, “the Sopranos”!
Me: No, um, New Jersey.
Or, sometimes, when Iยm just too tired to argue:
Person X: So, where are you from?
Me: (clearing throat, trying to hide nervous tic) New Jersey.
Person X: Oh, the Sopranos!
Me: (sigh) Yeah New Jersey.
Donยt get me wrong. Iยm not even saying that I donยt like The Sopranos, or Elvis for that matter. But the point is, I grew up in New Jersey, not The Sopranos, and those of you from Memphis didnยt grow up in Elvis.
Rant concluded.