What I do with my body is none of your business': musician Beverly Glenn-Copeland on trans rights, cult stardom and living with dementia
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What I do with my body is none of your business': musician Beverly Glenn-Copeland on trans rights, cult stardom and living with dementia
"When Beverly Glenn-Copeland was diagnosed with a form of dementia called Late two years ago, he was advised to stay at home and do crossword puzzles. He tried, but he doesn't like crosswords, and it didn't feel right. One day, recalls his wife Elizabeth, he said: Honey, I know this is meant to be giving me more time, but I just feel like we're not living a life."
"Since we have to make money, let's make money doing what we love to do. And so the couple, who live in Hamilton, Ontario, are in London, midway through a tour that is the latest chapter in Glenn's extraordinary late-in-life journey from unknown musician to revered cult icon. It has only been 10 years since his indefinably radiant music was rediscovered (not that it was ever really discovered in the first place), and he wants to enjoy it."
"If you didn't know that there are things Glenn can no longer do drive a car, fill in paperwork, transcribe his music you would take him for an unusually sprightly 81-year-old. Swaddled in a fleece and a giant scarf in the garden of the couple's rented house, his hair a snowy cloud, he has a sly, twinkling mirth and an explosive, eye-rolling laugh. Some things go downhill, Elizabeth tells me before we sit down, but in some ways he's more himself than ever."
Beverly Glenn-Copeland was diagnosed with a form of dementia called Late two years ago and was advised to stay home and do crossword puzzles. He disliked crosswords and instead decided to pursue travel and meetings, aiming to make money doing what he loved. He and his wife Elizabeth live in Hamilton, Ontario and are midway through a London tour that follows his late-in-life rise from relative obscurity to cult icon after a rediscovery a decade ago. Glenn can no longer perform tasks like driving, filling paperwork or transcribing music, but appears unusually sprightly at 81. Music arrives intuitively for him; he often forgets compositions after receiving them, and Elizabeth calls him a savant.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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