Some years ago, just after returning from a business trip, I was walking through the Nashville Airport on my way to the luggage return when I encountered a pair I was not expecting. There, only a few feet away, strolling in the opposite direction toward a gate, Glen Campbell was in a lively conversation with George Jones. Towering above his friend, Glen’s melodious voice rang out clearly in that corridor. I could have reached out and touched either of them, but that was so unnecessary, for both of them had touched me many times by their unique musical styles and the rapture in which one was lifted by their lyrics, tunes and voices.
Yesterday, August 8, 2017, Glen, like his friend, George, left this world and left us all with a lot of great memories. He was 81.
A few years ago I read Glen’s candid autobiography, in which he spared himself no shame for his wild past, and no regrets for his new, fuller life. I learned a lot about a man I now admire more than ever. I, for one, will miss him dearly, but always cherish the Rhinestone Cowboy who was the Wichita Lineman, and the guy who went to Phoenix, leaving behind a broken heart.