I grew up inside an assisted living community in Salt Lake City. While other kids had neighborhood friends, I had Holocaust survivors, World War II veterans, a presidential photographer, the first woman bank president, and the secretary to a U.S. vice president. And for a few unforgettable months — I had Elvis's rhythm guitar player. His name was John. A surgeon friend of my father's had operated on him and suggested he recover with us at Alta Ridge, our assisted living commu