At the National Alzheimer’s Dinner
in 2013, my mom and I were seated at a table near the stage. Our table was on
the outside edge near some curtains.
“Rhinestone Cowboy” cued up and
everyone began to clap in time to the music. Suddenly, from behind the curtain,
several people emerged. All eyes were on Glen Campbell as he brushed past us
smiling and waving his way toward the stage.
Filmmakers James Keach and Trevor Alber were working on the documentary I’ll Be
Me, the story of Glen’s Alzheimer’s journey. They were on hand to present
the Sargent and Eunice Shriver Profiles in Dignity Award to Glen Campbell. Glen
was a truly deserving recipient. His “Good-Bye Tour” and the documentary were unselfish
ways of bringing a new level of awareness to a vast audience.
Glen seemed humbled by the award. His
voice broke with emotion when he said, “Everyone’s been so good to me
throughout my years as a musician. Thank you for helping me and my family.”
We sang “Happy Birthday” to the
country music star and helped him celebrate his 77th birthday. I
brushed away tears as my heart broke for the years he would be facing.
After the program, Glen posed
to have his photo taken with many of the ladies, including my mom. He was
charming and sweet, but I could see his hesitation and hear his halting words
as he struggled to adapt to his new reality.
His daughter, Ashley,
testified in front of a congressional hearing on Alzheimer’s. Advocates wearing
purple Alzheimer’s sashes, packed the room. Ashley’s emotional testimony
explained the changes in her relationship with her dad. She said it was hard
for him to recall her name. Their times fishing together no longer lived in his
memories.
Two years after the forum,
I saw the documentary, I’ll Be Me. My impressions as written in a 2015
blog post:
It brought back memories of Jim’s loss of communication and musical
skills. At least only family witnessed Jim’s problems and not a paying
audience.
The Campbell family told of their struggles to make sure they walked the
fine line between the cathartic benefits of Glen performing and being vigilant
of him embarrassing himself. Audiences were tolerant. If he played the same
song twice, so what? At least they got to see him perform.
Campbell’s physician felt that performing on his “Goodbye Tour,” doing
what Glen loved, helped him maintain the ability to function longer. Sometimes
his daughter, Ashley, had to tell her dad the correct key for certain songs.
During their “dueling” instruments, her with a banjo, him with his guitar, she
admitted that sometimes he didn’t always follow along. Glen relied heavily on Teleprompters
to remind him of the words to songs he had sung for years.
When watching old family films, Glen asked, “Who’s that?” His wife, Kim,
gently supplied the pertinent information: “It’s you, honey,” or “That’s your
first wife,” or “It’s your oldest daughter.”
The film shows the relentless progression of Alzheimer’s disease. By the
time of his final performance on stage, Glen did not know it was his last
performance. Cal Campbell said that when his dad performed, “He actually
becomes himself again.”
The story ended with the recording session of “I’m Not Going to Miss
You.” At this point, Glen is already fading away but his eyes sparkle when he
finally gets into the song. This song really tugs at the heartstrings. The idea
stemmed from Campbell’s remark that he couldn’t figure out why everyone was so
worried about him having Alzheimer’s. He said, “It’s not like I’m going to miss
anyone, anyway.”
Glen Campbell’s Alzheimer’s
story was heartrending and, oh, so familiar to millions who have lived a
similar story. Today, August 8, 2017, Glen Campbell ended his courageous
battle with Alzheimer’s, and the Rhinestone Cowboy rode to his final horizon.
Copyright © August 2017 by L.S.
Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com#ENDALZ #GoJimsTeam
No comments:
Post a Comment