Summer 1978

Atlanta, Georgia

The slap of the hands.

It was always about that sound when the referee slaps his hand against the mat.

The first slap is critical. It shows the referee was alive and ready to make the call.

The second slap, necessary. If it doesn’t come down, then you better start looking around for the issue.

The third slap? Well, then that is heaven’s music raining down from above.

Glen needed that music, and now more than ever while he hooked Mr. Blister’s leg for the Main Event Wrestling World Championship.

1… 2… … 3!!!

Winner and NEW Main Event Wrestling Champion:

Golden Glen Miller via The Golden Elbow

The cheers. The crowd. The people.

Glen got to his feet and held his arms up while the referee strapped the championship belt around his waist. This was Main Event Wrestling’s first national event, and he was the winner of the biggest main event known to the profession.

His parents, back in Memphis, would predictably be cheering on their son from afar. Glen hoped his sister was somewhere noticing too, though she never reached out much.

Somewhere out there was Charlene, his one-time love who had thrown his life in chaos. Despite the loss of his best friend, Brian Griggsby, Glen held onto hope to see her.

Deep inside, Glen buried Vietnam and what he endured.

But at right that moment inside the ring, the adrenaline pumped strenuously through his veins.

The hands had slapped three times.

He was the champion.

He was on the “stage.”

Golden Glen Miller was now a household name.

Winter 1978

Chicago, Illinois

His hand was killing him. Glen had been signing autographs for nearly two hours once the show had ended. He knew that being a “star” would come with sacrifice, but he had not expected hating to write his own name to be one of them.

Golden Glen Miller

Cha-ching

Golden Glen Miller

Cha-ching

Golden Glen Miller

Cha-ching

Golden Glen Miller

Cha-ching

Golden Glen Miller

Cha-ching

Golden Glen Miller

Cha-ching

That’s how Glen kept going. He had been a household name for nearly three or four years; at this point few professional wrestlers had gotten to his level.

Most of his peers were unsure what to do, but at least Glen enjoyed the opportunity as a bachelor. He had his pick of women in any city he competed, and despite his southernly gentleman attributes, he had come to enjoy the freedom in which he rang.

As he wrote what he thought was the last signature for the night, a little blank piece of small paper was slid in front of him.

He began the painful task of writing his name out, but the fingers of a small woman quickly pulled the paper back.

Glen looked up in surprise and annoyance.

It was her: caramel hair, vibrant blue eyes, soft cheeks, and that inviting smile.

Charlene

Glen’s heart palpitated, and he found himself trying to figure out what to do with his hands. They were there in front of him on the table, but useless from the shock.

“Glen, it’s me-“

Before Charlene could say a word, Glen replied with confidence, “Charlene, I’ve been waiting.”

Glen, nearly seven feet tall, stood and pulled in the smaller woman with his arms.

Despite his fame, despite the carnage of Vietnam, and despite the grinds of what it took to make it in life… he had been waiting.

She came back.