Let me start off by saying that I've seen Joseph Hall in concert officially 24 times. Twenty-four shows, spread out across almost 3 and a half years. Which might sound impressive, unless you talk to the same woman I did who'd been to nearly 200 shows in less than that time. But still, it's a number I'm proud of, and a number I never thought I'd be keeping track of.
Three years ago, I was a sophomore in high school. My mother took me to Northwest High School in Grand Island, Nebraska, to see this guy who sang Elvis. The first song he sang was How Great Thou Art. I was crying seconds after he opened his mouth. Boom. Just like that.
And just tonight, I saw Joseph for the 24th time at the Minden Opera House in Minden, Nebraska. Seeing him tonight, even after all the shows, the dinners, the hugs, the tears, getting to know him and his family and a lot of the people who follow him all over creation, it was just as fresh, just as real, just as breathtaking as it was three years ago. I danced. I sang along to every single song. I cried when he did the American Trilogy. And I hugged him several times after the show.
It was all so good, every song was flawless and beautiful and mindblowingly real. All the women, most of them in the front row, who have seen him countless times and wear his face on pins, t-shirts, purses, mugs, and now bobbleheads (I must confess, I got one of those), were there as usual. They scrambled and shoved and reached for the scarves and teddy bears as they always do, they screamed and howled and whistled every time he moved, they showered him with plastic leis and wiped away his sweat for him and begged for kisses. And though I must admit, sometimes I get really tired of their whole routine every show, I hardly noticed them tonight. The gentleman sitting next to me, who got a better seat since the other person I was supposed to have with me got sick, commented several times on how he could never have the patience to deal with those kind of people. But they barely registered with me. I didn't really see them because I was too busy taking in the music.
I love Elvis. I've loved Elvis since I was eight years old watching the movie Lilo and Stitch at a friend's house. The film uses several Elvis songs throughout, like Devil in Disguise and Jailhouse Rock, and because of that movie my mother bought me my first Elvis CD. I was instantly hooked, and my love only grew as I took in more music and more pictures, and visiting Graceland when I was 13 years old simply sealed the deal. Elvis was and is such a huge part of my life, and it's through him that I've met so many amazing, beautiful people and grown into the kind of person I am. I have more than half of his recorded music, books, posters, concerts and movies on DVD, I've been to both his Memphis home and his childhood home in Tupelo, Mississippi twice, and I'm still hungry for more.
Through all of this, Elvis has become a source of love, and comfort for me. Whenever I'm having a bad day or something happens in my life that causes me to doubt myself or my purpose, I listen to Elvis. I watch one of his concerts. And whenever possible, I go see Joseph's show.
Joseph brings Elvis to life for those of us who weren't lucky enough be there while he was alive. He dresses up in those glittery jackets, those polyester suits, and he makes us believe again. He pours his own soul into every song and almost embodies Elvis for a little while. Even tonight there was a moment, I can't remember which song it was, where something happened, something clicked, and for the briefest of seconds, I believe I was seeing Elvis Presley, through Joseph. I can't even fully explain it, but he was singing and it was like his face changed. He BECAME Elvis, in a way. I saw it, and I felt what I imagine audiences back then felt: rapture. Disbelief. Unshakeable joy.
I've had a lot of ups and downs in my life, in the short time that I've been on this Earth. Nothing that makes me any more entitled to pity or special favors than the next guy, but things that have brought me down and made me feel sometimes like the world didn't want me here. And through a lot of these things, the Hall family has been there. The less crazy fans have been there. The family friends who run the souvenir table and ticket table and run the spotlights have been there. Every time I go to a show lately I end up hugging at least six or seven different people, most of whom I didn't know a year ago. I've got twenty people asking me how I've been. Joseph's father treats me like one of his own children. I've hung out with his sister at her apartment. Joseph himself takes the time every single show to sit down with me and catch up on my life, and talk Elvis.
My point is, yeah there's crazy fans, but they're not all crazy, and even if they were, I wouldn't let that stop me from going to shows. Not only is this a place I can go to see Elvis reincarnated, Elvis reborn and very much alive in the form of an astoundingly talented 28-year-old. This is a place where I know I am always welcome, always appreciated, and always loved. I consider a lot of these people family, and they talk to me and I to them like we've known each other for years and years. His father Kyle, his sister Caroline, and especially Joseph have become treasures for me to know, irreplaceable safe havens that I know will always be there to tell me how awesome and beautiful I am when the whole rest of the world says otherwise. I can escape here. I can be just as energetic and free and off-key as I want with 200 other people who love Elvis (almost) as much as I do and who don't care that I'm not a normal 18-year-old. I am loved for being an Elvis fan. I am loved for being a Joseph fan. I am loved because I'm there and I'm singing and crying and laughing and hugging all along with everybody else. I am immeasurably grateful for the music and legacy of Elvis Presley, and for the ridiculous talent and heart that God has given Joseph Hall. They have both radically changed my life for the better, and I can't thank either one enough.
