Last night I watched a doc on Neil Armstrong. Good stuff, lots of things I haven't seen. There were a lot of interviews by his family, which I also haven't seen before. Neil was called a recluse, but his son described him as properly being a recluse from the media, not from people in general.
They had his first wife on there, and again -- they burden those astronaut wives carried. Unbelievable. And then when it's all over, and it's their turn to grow, the astronaut husbands all fucked off.
Cleancut good American boys. All lousy to their wives. Except for Lovell and Collins. Those are the only two still married to their first wives. The rest all broke up.
Mind you, being an A-type personality who has gone to heights never before achieved by man, and then -- nothing -- that has to do a number on someone. Buzz, especially. Depression and alcohol. And sure, a marriage is going to fail. But guys like Conrad, who 'merely' cheated on their wives (and in his case, for twenty years), those are A-types who were just plain selfish.
Except for Lovell and Collins. Lovell, I'm guessing, owed his wife waaaaaaay too much after Apollo 13.
Collins, though -- his wife put it on the line after he came back, and said either her or NASA. And he was in rotation for a sure walk on the Moon. And he gave it up for her. That's astonishing. For someone so close to it? After having prepared for so long? Good for them.
But yeah -- Janet Armstrong. What a raw deal. Supporting Neil for all those years, and when he was finally done, he still did whatever the fuck he wanted, and left her holding the bag again.
And then to see these second wives, all happy and cheery and rah rah rah for their husbands, and who the fuck are you?
I still have to get around to reading that book about the astronaut wives. I'm interested, of course, but part of me knows it'll just be too fucking depressing.