After watching the football game in Pueblo, the family filed into
our hotel room with cups of hot chocolate. We threw ourselves on the bed and
our daughter picked up the television remote. She clicked on a few stations,
“Let’s see if there’s another football game to watch.”
You’d think one football game in a day is enough? Not saying
anything, we’re just blessed to be included in these crazy weekly outings with
the family. There will be a day when my Sweet Al and I will be too much trouble
to take. For us, there will be a day when it’ll take too much effort to go and
we’ll opt to stay at home.
As our daughter clicked through the channels, a documentary on Glenn
Campbell caught my eye. “Hey, wait, let’s see what they’re saying. Go back to
that channel.”
My Sweet Al and I have history with Glenn Campbell. We danced to his
western music at the Hitchin’ Post in Albuquerque in 1959. That’s a memory my
Sweet Al still talks about. He saw me on the dance floor laughing and having
fun. He tells people he fell in love with my blond ducktail, three-inch heels
and black sweater.
By the end of the week, Al decided I was the one. Not sure if it was
the ducktail, high heels or Glenn Campbell’s music, but one year later I was Mrs.
Al Slade. In Al’s mind I’m still that girl on the dance floor. Rose-colored
glasses.
The television program on Glenn Campbell was to boost the Campaign
for Alzheimer Awareness. Our family watched the documentary together, which is
a little close to home for our girls. My Sweet Al forgets things and it seems
to take more time for us to get in and out of the car or just do things. They
are watching us slowly change, but they keep diligently including us in
everything they do.
Glenn’s wife, Kim opened up about coping with the latest stages of
his battle with Alzheimer's disease. They showed him in the studio singing. It
probably took a team of people hours to get him ready for that studio shot. Music
and lyrics are some of the things he still remembers. In tears she said, “It’s
hard. We must keep them living.”
Those words went off in me like a firecracker. I said to our
daughter, “I don’t ever want to forget those words, she didn’t say keep them
alive, but she said keep them living.”
That’s what the family was doing in a hotel room in Pueblo after a
football game. Our kids invited us along. Are we that much fun to have around?
They say we are. I hope so. Thanks to them they make sure “we keep living.” They
are insisting we don’t get too comfortable and we are apart of their lives. Our
daughter says, “We want you to experience new memories with us in them.”
My Sweet Al still would like to see me in three-inch heels and wearing
a ducktail. He thinks I could pull it off. In my mind, I’m pulling it off if I
just show up in Sketchers. For our children, I’m not sure what’s on their minds
and what they’re thinking. And, I don’t think I want to know.
In 1967, Glenn hit the big times with these words. “It's knowin'
that your door is always open, And your path is free to walk…That keeps you in
the back roads, By the rivers of my memory, That keeps you ever gentle on my
mind.”
The next morning at the hotel, we pulled out of the parking lot
without Sweet Al. We didn't get far until our daughter said, “Wait. We forgot
Daddy. We really need to keep a closer eye on them.” Another round of laughs.
I said, “On them? Are you saying you have to keep your eye on me,
too? I’m in the car. I can still hear, remember I got new hearing aids.”
Final Brushstroke! We need to keep living and keep the ones we love
living, too. Sometimes my Sweet Al forgets to get back in the car, but I know
for certain what he’s thinking. His thoughts are always pure and sweet and the
rivers of memory are still gentle on his mind.
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