They were wrong. In time, signs were evident and could not be ignored. The Harrelson marriage was ebbing toward failure.
Twenty-two years and the gentle fireman's marriage went up in smoke. For Glen and Andy Harrelson, the split didn’t take place overnight. It wasn’t the jarring and inevitable result of an affair or an infidelity, as often is the case in marriages that fall apart when couples reach the sneaky desperation mat can overtake their forties. Glen and Andy had two children and a fabulous new home on eight acres. They had new cars. Nice manners. But they also had different agendas for their lives. Andy Harrelson was taking Communications classes at the local college and Glen was following his wanderlust for new ventures and new investments. Glen had the heart of an entrepreneur. The car washes and the carpet and decorating business were absolute testament to that.
So sadly, more than anything, it was the financial matters that broke up the Harrelsons. Glen liked to take financial risks and Andy was more security-conscious. She could no longer get by on her husband's promises. Andy didn’t want to worry. She loved Glen, and she knew her complaints—no matter how gently offered—were wearing him down. She was keeping him from doing what he wanted to do.
When the Harrelsons arrived at the Schindler home for a pre-Christmas get-together in December 1984, Jim and Jayne saw firsthand how strained things had become. Things were bad; though they prayed their friends would work it out. Their prayers, it seemed, went unanswered. A few days later, on Christmas Day, a distraught Glen called Jim to tell him Andy had asked him to move out.
“He was at the absolute bottom of the world,” Jim later recalled. “He felt it was coming. He was very much in love with Andy. He didn’t know what to do to put his marriage back together.”
Glen was crying.
“I don’t want my family to break up, I really don’t,” the soft-spoken man muttered over and over.
Not long after the separation, Glen saw a counselor. With help, he hoped he would be able to put his life back together. He was lonely. He missed Andy. As Jayne Schindler later said, “he seemed like a lost puppy.”
It was around that time he decided his lonesomeness could not be slaked by his same old friends. Glen wanted to date again. As his divorce became final, Glen joined a singles group at Northglenn Christian Church. He also bought a toupee.
Starting over in middle age is always tough. It was especially hard for Glen, who had not wanted to start over in the first place. The bar scene was intimidating, and he’d never been the type to strike up a conversation with a woman in the produce aisle at the supermarket, as some of the fellows in the firehouse had said had worked for them. Glen was not overly shy—his music was proof that performing for others was a joy, not a dread. But in his forties, he was awkward and alone.
When Glen talked to Jim Schindler about entering the dating scene again, it was with a sense of worry, not excitement. Glen was lost. He did not know what to do. The singles group at the church was a start, but he felt he was too old for most of the women there. Twenty-year-old Mikki Watson, for one, at half his age, would never be more than a friend.
One night Jim and Glen talked until the sun came up. Glen rambled on about his fears and regrets and Jim, who was worried about his friend's mental state, shirked off much-needed sleep to keep his buddy talking.
Glen Harrelson was not a loner and he was very lonely.
When he told Jim and Jayne Schindler that he was advertising in a singles magazine, they were skeptical. They wondered what type of woman he could meet that way.
Glen told them he had already responded to a woman's ad.
“She told me to bring two six-packs and come over to her place.”
“What did you do?” Jayne prodded.
Glen flashed a smile. “I went,” he said.
The Schindlers burst out laughing. Glen's sense of humor was evident for the first time in months.
“What happened?” Jayne asked.
He let a wry smile cross his face. “I’ll tell you this, I didn’t stay that long. She wasn’t my type.”
A few weeks after the woman with the six-pack, he met a new woman. A fun-loving, classy beauty.
“Her name is Sharon, but she likes to be called Sher,” he said.
Rick Philippi, 38, was glad for the invitation to join Glen Harrelson and Sher Nelson for lunch, even if they were only eating at the Burger King off 104th Avenue and Federal Boulevard, a few blocks west of Thornton. Rick, who knew Glen through a church bowling team and his friendship with Jim and Jayne Schindler, had heard so much about the new woman in his friend's life that he was pleased he’d finally be able to put a face with the name. He had been seeing less and less of his friend around church and around the events that promoted their mutual interest in classic cars. It was high time to meet the woman behind it.