Glenn Verner

They had just moved in at the house across from ours on North Avenue.  Glenn came over when he saw me. I noticed he was eating a lemon!

“My name is Ga-lennn”. At least that’s what it sounded like to me. As it turned out, this was to become my baptism into the world of the “southern drawl.”

Glenn and his brother Preston along with their parents Billy Joe and Gladys had just moved to Girard from Alabama. Life got really interesting after that.

We became neighborhood friends and grew up together. I have fond memories of us going to the movies on Saturday and then Glenn waiting patiently at St. Rose while I did my weekly confession before going home. We swam at First Hole in the original “speedoes” bathing suit; played “kick the can” at night on North Avenue; and made frequent and good use of the playground at North Avenue School.

When Glenn got his driver’s license, he took me for a ride in his dad’s 1956 Chevrolet (stick shift). My first 70 mph ride---not easily forgotten!

As so often happens, we went our separate ways after graduation. Reading his obituary when he passed on brought back memories of a simple time—yet a very enjoyable time.

Rest in peace Glenn.

Pete Chila