When I was growing up, my parents had a Glen Campbell record. I don’t know why. Their taste ran to classical, with some 20th-century composers such as Gershwin and Scott Joplin thrown in. But before I was old enough to buy my own records, I used to listen to that Glen Campbell album; I remember his “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay.” We had a pretty crummy stereo—I suppose most of them were back then—and the record was so scratched it had more crackles and pops than a bowl of Rice Krispies. But that “Dock of the Bay” was a good song, and I’d listen to it, then pick up the tone arm of the turntable, move it back and listen to it again.

So now, about 35 years later, I read that Campbell, now 75, has Alzheimer’s, and he’s embarking on a “farewell tour.” So many bands advertise going on farewell tours, when of course they don’t mean it at all; this instance adds an affecting dose of reality to the term. The man really is saying goodbye.

His wife, Kim, told People magazine, “Glen is still an awesome guitar player and singer,. But if he flubs a lyric or gets confused onstage, I wouldn’t want people to think, ‘What’s the matter with him? Is he drunk?’ ”

Campbell himself added, “I still love making music,. And I still love performing for my fans. I’d like to thank them for sticking with me through thick and thin.”

I haven’t listened to Glen Campbell since I was 10 years old, but I think this is pretty brave and it makes me think of him singing, “I’m sittin’ on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away.”