IFALPA's Hall of Fame


John & Annie 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.

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 others' sentences is something that warms you and makes you thankful just  to
be in the same room.

Monday will be the anniversary of the Mercury space  shot, and once again, people will remember, and will speak 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. 

Good story for a change

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