[Nfbf-l] The Wife Of John Glenn

[Alan Dicey]

The Wife Of John Glenn

For half a century, the world has applauded John Glenn as a heart-stirring 
American hero. He lifted the nation's spirits when, as one of the original 
Mercury 7 astronauts, he was blasted alone into orbit around the Earth; the 
enduring affection for him is so powerful that even now people find 
themselves misting up at the sight of his face or the sound of his voice.

But for all these years, Glenn has had a hero of his own, someone who he has 
seen display endless courage of a different kind:
Annie Glenn.

They have been married for 68 years.
He is 90; she turned 92 on Friday.
One weekend a while ago, there was news coverage of the 50th anniversary of 
Glenn's flight into orbit. We are being reminded that, half a century down 
the line, he remains America's unforgettable hero.
He has never really bought that.
Because the heroism he most cherishes is of a sort that is seldom cheered.
It belongs to the person he has known longer than he has known anyone else 
in the world.


John Glenn and Annie Castor first knew each other when -- literally - they 
shared a playpen.
In New Concord, Ohio, his parents and hers were friends. When the families 
got together, their children played.
John -- the future Marine fighter pilot, the future test-pilot ace, the 
future astronaut -- was pure gold from the start. He would end up having 
what it took to rise to the absolute pinnacle of American regard during the 
space race; imagine what it meant to be the young John Glenn in the small 
confines of New Concord.
Three-sport varsity athlete, most admired boy in town, Mr. Everything.
Annie Castor was bright, was caring, was talented, and was generous of 
spirit.
But she could talk only with the most excruciating of difficulty. It haunted 
her.
Her stuttering was so severe that it was categorized as an "85%" 
disability - - 85% of the time, she could not manage to make words come out.
When she tried to recite a poem in elementary school, she was laughed at.
She was not able to speak on the telephone. She could not have a regular 
conversation with a friend.


And John Glenn loved her.
Even as a boy he was wise enough to understand that people who could not see 
past her stutter were missing out on knowing a rare and wonderful girl.
They married on April 6, 1943. As a military wife, she found that life as 
she and John moved around the country could be quite hurtful. She has 
written: "I can remember some very painful experiences - - especially the 
ridicule."
In department stores, she would wander unfamiliar aisles trying to find the 
right section, embarrassed to attempt to ask the salesclerks for help. In 
taxis, she would have to write requests to the driver, because she couldn't 
speak the destination out loud. In restaurants, she would point to the items 
on the menu.
A fine musician, Annie, in every community where she and John moved, would 
play the organ in church as a way to make new friends. She and John had two 
children; she has written: "Can you imagine living in the modern world and 
being afraid to use the telephone?'Hello' used to be so hard for me to say. 
I worried that my children would be injured and need a doctor. Could I 
somehow find the words to get the information across on the phone?"

John, as a Marine aviator, flew 59 combat missions in World War II and 90 
during the Korean War. Every time he was deployed, he and Annie said goodbye 
the same way. His last words to her before leaving were:
"I'm just going down to the corner store to get a pack of gum."
And, with just the two of them there, she was able to always reply:
"Don't be long."
On that February day in 1962 when the world held its breath and the Atlas 
rocket was about to propel him toward space, those were their words, once 
again. And in 1998, when, at 77, he went back to space aboard the shuttle 
Discovery, it was an understandably tense time for them. What if something 
happened to end their life together?
She knew what he would say to her before boarding the shuttle. He did - and 
this time he gave her a present to hold onto:

A pack of gum.
She carried it in a pocket next to her heart until he was safely home.
Many times in her life she attempted various treatments to cure her stutter.
None worked.
But in 1973, she found a doctor in Virginia who ran an intensive program she 
and John hoped would help her. She traveled there to enroll and to give it 
her best effort. The miracle she and John had always waited for at last, as 
miracles will do, arrived. At age 53, she was able to talk fluidly, and not 
in brief, anxiety-ridden, agonizing bursts.
John has said that on the first day he heard her speak to him with 
confidence and clarity, he dropped to his knees to offer a prayer of 
gratitude.
He has written: "I saw Annie's perseverance and strength through the years 
and it just made me admire her and love her even more." He has heard roaring 
ovations in countries around the globe for his own valor, but his awe is 
reserved for Annie, and what she accomplished: "I don't know if I would have 
had the courage."
Her voice is so clear and steady now that she regularly gives public talks.
If you are lucky enough to know the Glenns, the sight and sound of them 
bantering and joking with each other and playfully finishing each others' 
sentences is something that warms you and makes you thankful just to be in 
the same room.

Some weeks ago, was the anniversary of the Mercury space shot, and once 
again people remembered, and will speak of the heroism of Glenn the 
astronaut.

But if you ever find yourself at an event where the Glenn's are appearing, 
and you want to see someone so brimming with pride and love that you may 
feel your own tears start to well up, wait until the moment that Annie 
stands to say a few words to the audience.

And as she begins, take a look at her husband's eyes.