Rant #1,956: Rhinestone Cowboy

Glen Campbell passed away yesterday at the age of 81.

He had suffered from the affects of Alzheimer's Disease for at least the past five years, but since we really don't know when this horrid disease takes over the body and the mind, it is really hard to tell when this affliction really hit him.

As I looked over the body of his substantial career, I was trying to figure out a way to talk about Campbell in a way that was different from the literally hundreds of obituaries that are coming out on him.

Yes, we know he was a big star, one of the artists--along with the likes of Michael Nesmith and Johnny Cash--who helped make country music mainstream.

We also know that he was the most famous member of the Wrecking Crew, that West Coast-based group of musicians who played on seemingly hundreds of hit records during the 1960s and early 1970s, ghosting for the acts that were supposedly playing on these songs.

And yes, we know that Campbell had an extremely successful TV series, a fledgling movie career, and a fan following that stretched from the 1960s to the present time.

What more can I say about him?

Let me tell you all about it.

Along with Nesmith, Campbell was my personal window into the world of country music, or at least crossover country-pop.

I watched his late 1960s show--"The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour," which was done by the same people who brought us "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour"--each and every week, and my interest went way beyond his good looks and likable personality that he showed onscreen,

The segment when he was shown performing with a group of musicians--including one musician named Larry, whose last name escapes me now--was pure magic on that show.

He would pick, he would grin, the other musicians would follow along, and it was such an interesting segment on the show, at least for me, that it basically trumped the appearances of whatever guest star he had on that particular week.

And yes, he did have the Monkees on his show, and yes, that included Nesmith.

Personally, I think current country superstars have a lot to thank Campbell and Nesmith for, and yes, the tributes are pouring in.

Into the 1970s, Campbell continued to have success, but his likable personality was scarred by news of alcohol abuse, a relationship with Tanya Tucker that defied description--it was one of the biggest and most bizarre Hollywood stories of the mid-1970s--and declining popularity after "Rhinestone Cowboy" became his first No. 1 pop hit, soon followed by "Southern Nights."

Campbell continued to record through the decades, and two recent collections demonstrated that even in sickness, he could still pick and grin, so to speak.

But one afternoon, with nothing much to do, I went onto Netflix, and I discovered his documentary, "I'll Be Me," a 2014 film which chronicled his progressing downfall from Alzheimer's Disease during his final concert tour.

Helped on by his family, he somehow completed the tour, but by the film's end, he was not the happy go lucky person we had grown to know and love.

He was a bitter man, unable to cope with his progressive disease, frustrated with himself, with his supportive family, and with life in general.

Of course, that was three years ago, and intermittent news reports told us that he was growing worse by the day, living the true "walking dead" malady that there is no known cure for.

Getting back to the film, it was chilling, a reminder that this disease has no boundaries, can affect anyone, and when it does that, the person it hits is not the same person, cannot be the same person, and will never recover from this malady.

It hit me doubly hard because my grandmother, my father's mother--had the disease. We don't know how long she had it, because she was always considered to be a bit eccentric, but when it really came over her, it really came over her, if you know what I mean.

So as I watched this film, memories of my dear grandmother came back to me, and her last days did, too,

I flashed back to when I last saw her, accompanied by my father and my then-toddler son.

She had no idea who my father--her son--was, she had no idea who my son was--six months earlier, she had rocked him to sleep--and she only knew me, which made the whole episode even more chilling.

My grandmother died a few days later, and let me tell you, it put her in a much better place.

So when I watched Campbell's film, it all came back to me, and I had to watch the movie in a few parts because it was a bit much for me.

But I got through it, and I kind of knew what Campbell's family was going through with him--and he lasted a lot longer with the disease in full force than most Alzheimer's patients do.

God gave them the strength to get through this; it is the only way.

Of course, like the rest of us, I prefer to remember Campbell as one of my musical favorites as a kid, a guy who could strum a guitar like few others, a guy who was in "True Grit" with John Wayne, a guy whose records I loved.

He is in a better place now.