Summer 1977

Memphis, Tennessee

He was nervous.

Very nervous.

For the past six years, Glen had been headlining event-after-event, and while his body never wore tired, sometimes it felt like his heart did. He quietly fidgeted with the tuxedo cufflink as his father, Henry, sauntered over across the groomsman room.

Henry Miller was normally a man of few words, and over the course of Glen’s youth he rarely applauded or exulted his son. A weakness of Henry’s, perhaps. But Henry was a man of World War 2, and what he saw in France and Germany made him close up emotionally for many, many years.

That was until Glen returned from the jungles of Vietnam, of course. To see Glen surpass sophomoric youth and become nothing less than a war hero? That was all it took for Henry’s old heart to thaw and for him to experience life again.

Today was finally Glen’s wedding day to Charlene, and the old man could tell that Glen was taking on a lot of pressure. Surprisingly, his son never shied away from the spotlight of big matches, big crowds, and big pay days, but Henry always noticed that Glen was shy when it came for his relationship with Charlene.

Perhaps it was because of what happened to Brian? Henry thought.

Perhaps.

Henry took it upon himself to be the man of the moment and be there for his son as a patriarchal figure.

“Glen?” Henry asked innocently. “Can I give you a quick hand?”

The old man took position in front of his son and then wrangled his wrinkled fingers into the cuff.

“Thanks, pa,” Glen replied.

Henry was so impressed with his son, who was becoming a man today. Sure, you could say the jungles of Vietnam made Glen into a man, but Henry chuckled to himself at the thought that marriage might be a bit tougher.

“You know, son,” said Henry before splitting a grin while looking up at Glen. “The day I married your mother? I forgot the ring.”

“Forgot the ring?” asked an amused Glen. “What did you do?”

Henry smiled to his son, “When I finally got up there, and we said our words, and they asked for a ring? I had to whisper to the priest a secret message, which he passed to Patricia. Then, the priest pretended to take an empty ring out of my hand and put it over your mom’s… and she played along with the whole thing.”

By this moment, Henry had finished Glen’s cufflinks and took a step backward to appraise his son. Sure, Henry knew he had some great genes and was always a rough-and-tumble blonde guy, but Glen took it to a whole different level. Somehow, some way, Glen had taken all of Henry’s best qualities and went beyond anyone’s belief.

“Okay, pa, let me get this straight,” chuckled Glen while playfully waving his hands forward. “First you forgot the ring, and then you got the priest and then got ma to go along with… what? What was your secret message?”

The elder Miller laughed to himself for a moment before answering with a chuckle, “I agreed to let her name our first born.”

Glen leaned back with a real fresh, true smile, and healthy chuckle. On television, Henry could always tell when Glen was being real or fake during the wrestling matches, Patricia would walk out of the living room at least two times before Glen eventually won them.

“Dad,” Glen said while straightening himself out. “Sorry you had to deal with ‘Glen’.”

The old man waved it away while fidgeting with his own tie toward the same mirror.

“Glen, I don’t get to give a fancy speech in front of everyone, but I do want to say something to you.”

The young, already world-famous professional wrestler held a serious, calm face and nodded to his father.

“Well, son, marriage is the ultimate form of partnership, where you will be holding hands through every moment that will come after this. You will have your ups and downs, but don’t forget, so will she.”

Glen nodded along.

“As a vet who built himself off the GI bill, I always got more public recognition than your mom. But she was one who held our family together when I got like I got sometimes…”

When Henry’s voice trailed off, Glen picked up some of the awkward slack when war somehow came up in a conversation between real veterans.

“Yeah, pa,” said Glen back to his dad. “You and me, and everyone who did that… we got those moments.”

The World War 2 vet shook his head and re-straightened himself, and then looked up at his large, blond-haired prodigy.

“Anyways, Glen, you and Charlene need to count on each other. And that’s what I mean, it goes both ways.”

A firm acknowledgment and nod came form Glen, who then lowered his head down to his dad.

Henry pulled in Glen’s head and whispered one last thought.

“Good luck, boy.”