It’s always difficult for me to suddenly discover that someone has aged dramatically.
I was having dinner at a restaurant in Los Angeles one evening when the waiter called my attention to the fact that Gene Kelly had just come in.
I couldn’t find him.
I was looking for that athletic, dancing leading man from “Singin’ in the Rain” and “An American in Paris.” All I could see by the door was a little, stooped, bald man who couldn’t possibly be my idol, Gene Kelly. But it was and it was hard to imagine him aging like that.
That’s the way I felt in March when Iheard that an old Phoenix friend, musician Glen Campbell, had been moved into a care facility.
His Alzheimer’s has progressed so far that his family members can no longer provide for his needs.
But that’s impossible.
The last time I saw him, he was entertaining an audience with “Wichita Lineman” and “Rhinestone Cowboy” and stories of growing up in Delight, Ark.
And now he’s in a home.
I hope Kim, his wife, tells him that even if he doesn’t always remember us, no one here has forgotten him.
I’m Pat McMahon.