VERY INSPIRING....
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Beautiful & inspiring story, worth the
read.
John Glenn and Annie.
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.
This weekend there has been 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, 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 other's
sentences is something that warms you and
makes you thankful just to be in the same room.
Monday (February 20, 1962) was the anniversary
of the Mercury space shot, and once again
people remembered, and spoke of the heroism of
Glenn the astronaut.
But if you ever
find
yourself at an event where the Glenns 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.
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