June 1967

Memphis, Tennessee

A 17-year-old Glen sat on the couch with his mother and sister while his stoic father, Henry Miller, sat in his own chair.

Glen’s yellow hair contrasted strangely with the living room’s yellow shag carpet, which had been in the house since it was purchased nearly 14 years ago. Henry would have changed it, but he couldn’t afford to on his working-class salary.

More shocking news coverage of the Vietnam War appeared on the television. The midwestern American family watched intently as bombs appeared to explode in the jungle.

“I’d say that my time is coming up, right?” Glen asked with a deep voice, now buoyed by the effects of puberty.

Glen’s sister and mother both nervously glanced over to Henry, the patriarch of the household.

“Son, if the army comes calling for you, the expectation is that you will stand up and serve. Just like I did.”

“Yes sir.”

A few minutes after Glen’s modest reply, the house’s doorbell rang, and Glen jumped up to go look to see who it was. As he walked through the middle of the living room, his family couldn’t help but admire how tall he had grown. At nearly six and half feet tall, he towered over everyone in his life.

Glen flipped on the porch light and opened the door, revealing his childhood best friend standing there. Bryan Griggsby smiled and let himself into the Miller residence.

“Hey Bryan, what are you doing tonight?” Glen asked.

“Oh, not much,” Bryan attempted to reply before he was cut off by Glen’s mother.

“Bryan! Is that you?” she yelled from the living room.

Bryan smiled and replied, “Yes Mrs. Miller. It’s me, how you doin?”

“I’m doing okay, can I fix you something to eat?”

The politeness of the 60’s shined with her offer.

Bryan looked around the corner of the wall and into the living room, “Oh no, I’m quite alright. Just here to pick up Glen.”

“Oh, okay. You boys have fun.”

Bryan smiled and looked back at Glen who was already grabbing his black leather jacket. Glen smiled his trademark smirk and opened the door, but it was Bryan who walked out first to his new car.

“Now Glen, I got someone for you to meet.”

“Oh yeah? You sure we should take him drinking with us? He ain’t gonna snitch, is he?” Glen asked.

“No, you don’t understand. Her name is Charlene… she’s new to town,” Bryan said as they approached the car.

It was a beautiful car that Bryan had recently purchased with his parent’s money, which did leave Glen feeling a little diminished. If there was one thing Bryan had that Glen didn’t, it was family money.

Glen watched as Bryan got into the car and motioned for the girl inside the car scoot over to the middle of the bench seat.

Peering inside the passenger door, he took an eyeful of Charlene. The high-pitched tune of Glen’s whistling was heard by the two in the car, and Bryan assumed it was praise for the new car. Glen opened the passenger door and climbed inside, squishing the poor girl who couldn’t barely be 5’5”.

Glen admired Charlene’s caramel hair, vibrant blue eyes, soft cheeks and inviting smile.

After closing the door, he looked over to her and extended his hand, “The name is Glen Miller. How’s it going….?”

Glen’s voice trailed off, leaving her the chance to tell her his name.

“Charlene Ruoco,” she replied.

Glen’s heart nearly melted when he heard the sound of her voice; it was sweet like honey and innocent like a flower.

Bryan had been driving down Glen’s block now for a couple seconds when he finally spoke, “Charlene is new here from Michigan. You know Marco Ruoco, right?”

“Yeah,” Glen replied.

“Charlene is his cousin.”

“Oh! He never mentioned a cousin,” Glen said obviously excited.

“Yeah, well we didn’t really know each other until a week ago when I moved here.”

Glen smiled widely. “Is that so…”

The trio drove down the road together, but Glen’s heart was going a different direction. It was going a direction with Charlene by its side, but without Bryan.

Glen was in love.