Ceramic Elvis in his Cereamic Art Form

I hurt deep within my soul today because I trashed the insanely, hideous Elvis who spent so many years on Mom's beautiful antique dressing table. When I was looking at his front view I could easily see his tight buttocks in the refection of the perfectly round mirror of the dressing table. I know he will never find a better home or maybe he will be homeless forever; but somewhere inside of me because of the Elvis sightings. I often wonder that years after his death that somewhere there will be a place for him but for now he lies outside of the Salvation Army box, seeking a home. Anyway, poor Elvis is probably getting rained on now even as I write.I tried to throw him in but he could have lost one of his famous yellow jewels that he wore on his painted, tight, white jumpsuit. You know there are some things that you just don't want to let go of, I think there is some kind of psychological term for it: hoarders I think, but that sounds like some kind of sex term. For now we'll just say my Aunt who made him is beyond a packrat and more like Fred Sanford from the famous sitcom "Sanford and Son." I am sure she posses this disorder and although I have some of the traits I can let go of some things. I dare not tell my therapist until I get to know him better. He's already labeled me ADHD for reading five books at a time. I'm concentrating on each one.

Years ago my Aunt Jean, a very colorful character made this monstrous thing when she was in her creative ceramic phase of life. Aunt Jean was a displaced southerner living her dreams in Michigan. I don't know how she ever got by without getting killed while driving that red Ford Galaxy with a horn that whistled Dixieland.

Elvis was painted with a solid white outfit on with lots of yellow jewels that were hand glued to make it look a bit ethnic. He must have shrunk in the overheated oven that bakes the ceramic beauties because he was much thinner than the real life Las Vegas Elvis. There wasn't much you could do to make him look better. I often thought a nice scarf that would cover his face would be nice but he would have just thrown it off to his adoring fans around him. You see Elvis was surrounded by lovely antiques that were so old they were starved for his attention. Elvis was just misplaced on that dresser top surrounded by oil lamps, pictures of grandchildren, seashells, antique banks, and starched dollies that my grandmother had made years before. Elvis' painted black hair looked a lot like the G.I. Joe's of the past only with a teased look on the top. Worst of all was his painted eyes. Elvis looked like he was Japanese. His eyes painted black with a slant upward that would even make him turn over in his grave. If he were alive to see this monster mold of him, I am certain we would have gotten more than a pick Cadillac from him to shed the world of this one of a kind object of affection or is it affliction. Elvis was always giving poor people some kind of extravagant gift.

Mom kept Elvis for twenty years or more. He was usually kept in the metal cabinet, hidden on the bottom with another memories from the past. Mom would return Elvis from his hiding place only when my Aunt would make an occasional visit from Detroit, Michigan to their hometown of Carbon Hill, Alabama. Soon though Aunt Jean moved south and Elvis finally had a permanent home on the dressing table.

I went to visit Mom the other day. She's older now and a little slower. I help with vacuumning and dusting. I said to her in a soft voice, "Can we get rid of Elvis once and for all?"

She replied, "Yes, please put him in the Salvation Army box so I'll never have to see him again. Jean just gave him to me because no one else would put something that ugly in their home." Then with a worried look on her face she said, "You know Jean is 79 now, what will I do if she asks where he is?" Although I knew I would really get blessed out for the destruction of Elvis I told Mom I would take the blame for Elvis falling and breaking into bits on the floor. A little white lie wouldn't be so bad so late in the game.

As I went and sat Elvis down in the rain next to the box of other discarded treasures I wanted my camera to catch one last picture of him for an enduring reminder of how hideous that ceramic figure was but in some way I was sad because I really didn't think he would ever find a home. Alas, my daughter had my camera so Elvis now sits in the rain awaiting his fate as the ulgiest ceramic statue ever made. Now all I can do is lay down at night, my conscience not clean wondering what in the hell will I do if Aunt Jean has a hankering to go to the Salvation Army to shop and there she will see where I left the remains of her treasured ceramic art. As I laid down to sleep that night I wondered why on earth didn't I auction that damn thing on eBay. I missed another opportunity to make my billions on probably a collectors item. Maybe Aunt Jean will let me auction her "Vote for George Wallace for President campaign botton" but that's a whole other story!