LIKE A RHINESTONE COWBOY

I have a confession I need to make.  It's not something that I share with most people.  This is a thing that could polarize people.  Really since my goal is to; a) write, b) grow readership and c) eventually have groupies in numbers greater than just Big D and my daughter, I'm not sure this coming out of sorts is the way to obtain any of those 3 goals.   Some of you readers have created a mental image of me, of Lynn Cherry, solely based upon what I have written about, how I deliver thoughts into words, my over-use of the phrase "of sorts", and a few facts I throw in about my physical appearance/outrageous humor/lightening speed and impatience.  I am now giving you yet another defining thing which paints a clearer image in your heads.  I love Glen Campbell.  He is in my love category which also passionately includes; all raw vegetables, a good cup of coffee, Christmas music, John Mayer, and no socks.  Maybe it doesn't make sense to you that I would love the voice of Glen Campbell. To some he is a bit obscure and yet he holds a place in musical history.   He physically epitomizes all that I find tacky, used car salesman like (no offense) and not necessarily appealing (it's his head and hair and clothes).  My mom had the Glen Campbell album,"Wichita Lineman" when I was growing up.  I listened to that thing over and over.    I thought the lyrics to those songs painted great images, which for me is the mark of any good song - leaving a visual and emotional brush stroke.  I read about his life - his childhood of deep poverty, of being a migrant farm worker with his parents.  That no doubt left deep scars on a young child.  I cheered inside that he had made it out of that into an industry that only a few succeed in.  Through the years I followed his struggles with drugs and alcohol.  His victories over it and then his plunge into the addiction yet again.  At some point, he had an experience with God (most of us do at some point).  His faith experience evidenced itself in an album he made that I have called "The Boy In Me".  It tells of his turn to the things of God and how that changed the power of his past (God does have that ability).  I saw him in concert a few years after that album.  The venue was held in the gym of a small Christian college, sponsored by one of the the local Christian radio stations.  He sang a mix of Christmas music, his newer songs that he had penned himself, and of course, some old standbys; "Like A Rhinestone Cowboy", "Wichita Lineman", "Galveston", "By  The Time I Get To Phoenix".  He whipped out his bagpipes and played the infamous "Amazing Grace" in this mix of mournful and hopeful sounds.  A gifted musician, Glen plays an absolutely amazing guitar and banjo.  His guitar playing alone  easily rivals the Eric Claptons of the world.   The small concert made me love his music even more, his amazing instrumental abilities, and his gift of lyrics and notes that can pierce me.  To my sisters out there who used to join me in belting out our own cover version of "Like A Rhinestone Cowboy" - thanks for indulging my love of Glen Campbell as a kid!