I have fallen into the habit of reading an item in the local paper which lists notable events that happened on this day in history. I find myself paying particular attention to the birthdays of famous people who are around my age; for some reason I find it interesting that, for instance, David Bowie is older than I am, and that, for instance, some punk rocker whose wild-boy image remains fixed from the 1970s has turned 50. It was there that I discovered that today is Elvis's birthday. I'm not much of an Elvis fan, really, but those early recordings reveal a tremendous talent which was mostly squandered. This song, which came out in 1961, is one of the last of his recordings to have made any impression on me. I would have been a moony 13-year-old, and I guess it was a pretty strong impression, because I remember the song perfectly--except that it sounded to me as if he was saying "Some things aren't meant to be," which puzzled me. It brings a visual memory with it: I am hearing it on the radio in the family car in the parking lot of the Methodist church after the Sunday service.
It's a lovely song.