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I write very human stories with historical elements. I promise Clean Reads… always.

—Marla Melior

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It was 1967, and the war in Vietnam continually gnawed at the back of our minds. We all knew it was coming for us. Especially as draft notices continued to show up in mailboxes around town and the older guys, like Tony, sent more letters and pictures home. I was just seventeen, and for me, that was the year of new love and old rivals. It was cars, and girls, and for the first time ever in our little town… football. And thanks to a man named Bill Munson and the crazy old lady who lived next door, it was a year of discovering that maybe my life didn’t have to turn out the way I expected it to, the way it always seemed to work out for poor boys like me. It was the year when I learned what it meant to be part of a team… a team that would become a family, and a far better one than a lot of us had at home.

It was 1967, and we were the Boys of Brady Falls.