Weigh in, sound off, or just tell it like it is.
In August 1977, things changed. The King died. Elvis Presley himself. And at seven years old, I had no clue who Elvis Presley was. But when the Boston Sunday Globe arrived to our home the week he died, I remember picking through the remains of the paper after my father and older brother, Mike, tore through the metro region, sports, travel and editorial sections like two animals tugging at the same side of beef. READ MORE