The Silent Service of Cindy and Carol: A Tribute to the Wives of John McCain

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As the nation mourns the loss of Senator John McCain, his life will be celebrated in multiple locations, criss-crossing the vast geographic and cultural boundaries of the country for which he so greatly suffered, so admirably served, and so greatly loved.

He will be memorialized in both Arizona and Washington D.C. before burial at his alma mater, the U.S. Naval Academy Cemetery in Annapolis, Maryland. Along the way, he will be eulogized by fellow giants of governance: Former Presidents Barack Obama and George W. Bush, former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, and former Senator Joe Lieberman. McCain will become only the 13th Senator to lie in state in the Capitol Rotunda—a testament to the enormous impact of his service, both militarily and political. 

We will see many famous faces at his upcoming services. It will be easy to get wrapped up in the solemn, yet star-studded atmosphere in which his final respects are paid.

But alongside those behemoths of democracy will be his family, grieving and celebrating not just a Senator, but a father, a husband, a son. 

Pay attention to their faces. See in them the legacy of John McCain’s life. Most importantly, recognize their own service to this country; for giants of history only grow to such heights with the support of those who surround them. In particular, honor the two great loves of his life, without whom the man we mourn today would not have been complete: Carol Shepp and Cindy Hensley. 

For some, it’s an inconvenient, even uncomfortable, truth that John McCain was a divorced man. They feel it somehow tarnishes his reputation or clouds his accomplishments. And while McCain himself acknowledged that “my greatest moral failing, and I have been a very imperfect person, is the failure of my first marriage,” it is important to recognize the inherent fallibility of even our greatest leaders. 

John McCain was a flawed man. He made personal choices that did not live up to the code of ethics to which he constantly aspired. He made political decisions that some view as heroic, while others point to as moral failures. He was, in short, human—a condition both endearing and an impossible liability for those called to lead. 

And while it may be difficult for some to reconcile his flaws with his service, it appears his first wife, Carol, had no such issues. Although the 14 years they spent together ultimately ended in heartbreak, she has always supported his political ambitions, donating to his campaigns and repeatedly refusing reporters’ efforts to elicit negative material. In the documentary John McCain: For Whom the Bell Tolls, Carol explains, “I love the man. I am very sad that he is going to be leaving us … it’s not fair.”

Despite the decades that have passed since their divorce, Carol’s comments highlight the complexities of marriage that help us view John McCain and his family in a relatable, if imperfect, light. 

After marrying in 1965, McCain adopted Carol’s two sons, Andrew and Doug, from a previous marriage. They went on to have a daughter together, Sidney, in 1966. Shortly thereafter, John deployed to Vietnam where he was shot down during a bombing raid and spent the next five-and-a-half years at the infamous “Hanoi Hilton.” The torture and abuse he suffered during those years are well documented.

Back home, Carol kept her family going. She continued raising their children and sent her husband letters, though most never reached him. On December 24, 1969, she suffered a near-fatal car accident that left her confined to a hospital for six months. With the couple’s three children sent off to family and friends during her recuperation, Carol made the difficult decision not to inform her husband of the accident. She says she did not want to further upset him in the midst of his own dire struggles. 

Although the McCain family’s POW experience is, thankfully, something most will never understand, Carol’s choice to suffer silently for the sake of her husband is painfully relatable for many military spouses.

Deployments and other separations do not occur in a vacuum. Instead, they intrude upon struggles that refuse to take a backseat to military considerations. It can be frustrating, even infuriating, to shoulder such heavy burdens with a smile, accepting thanks for our spouse’s service while feeling we might shatter into pieces with each step. For this, Carol’s decision is one of utmost selflessness and honor. 

Of course, as military spouses, we know all too well that grand gestures and even love itself is not always enough to endure the struggles of separation. By 1980, John and Carol McCain divorced. While neither acknowledged the war as a factor in their break up—he going so far as to say it was due, “more to my own selfishness and immaturity than to Vietnam,” — the hardship of separation on military families cannot be ignored. 

According to a 2017 study published in the Journal of Population Economics, divorce rates increase significantly with each month a spouse is away. McCain himself tackled this difficulty in his book Worth the Fighting For in which he writes, “sound marriages can be hard to recover after great time and distance have separated husband and wife.” 

It is no small miracle then, that his marriage to second wife, Cindy Hensley, survived the test of time. Married in 1980, John continued traveling extensively, even after ending his military service as U.S. Naval Liaison to the Senate one year later. With his time in the military behind him, McCain still felt called to serve his country and found himself elected to the U.S. House of Representatives before beginning his much-lauded tenure in the Senate. 

Like Carol, Cindy found herself largely responsible for the daily needs of their four children: Meghan, Jack, Jimmy, and Bridget. In John McCain: For Whom the Bell Tolls, his absence is addressed as a plain reality of his children’s lives. Home videos document weekend visits with his family, toward which Cindy says he maintained a fierce fidelity. 

But sporadic visits, as military spouses are well aware, cannot make up for long-term distance. There must have been many moments of doubt on Cindy’s part, unsure of her own ability to endure the strain, nervous about the effect of such an upbringing on her children. 

Indeed, Cindy has been vocal about becoming addicted to pain killers after back surgery in 1989. Like many busy women, struggling to balance motherhood and work, she floundered against the impossible task of being everything to everyone. She hid her addiction for years before finally getting the help she needed. 

Reminiscing on those years, Cindy has said, “I kept it from him because I didn’t want to let him down,” — a sentiment so simple, yet so relatable.

With her husband in full public view, Cindy McCain, a woman who seemingly had it all, privately didn’t. She suffered the throes of addiction on her own, unwilling to let others see her fragility for fear of disappointing her loved ones. It’s a tragic and all too common story.

As the years wore on, she stood by her husband through multiple senate races and two presidential campaigns. As if the physical and emotional fatigue of such endeavors were not enough, she gracefully handled blistering attacks against her family in 2000 when the South Carolina primary turned personal. Political opponents pushed the faulty narrative that the McCains’ adopted Bengali daughter was the product of an adulterous affair. 

Cindy and John McCain, photo courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Still, Cindy soldiered on.

She marched alongside her husband through the sweeping success of his Republican presidential nomination to the crushing blow of his eventual loss. She stood beside him to the very end, sending the following message of thanks to the country upon his death:

“The entire McCain family is overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from around the world. Thank you.”

If only we could extend our own love and appreciation to both Cindy and Carol for their service to our country. Because while they may never have donned a uniform or paced the halls of Congress, they loved and supported the man who did. They provided the foundation upon which his legacy was built, watching from the wings without fanfare. Their service mimics those of countless military spouses around the country who know the pain of deployment and the the difficulties of parenting solo. They know the strength it takes to love a man who serves.

Thank you for that strength, Cindy and Carol. We salute your service. 

 

2 COMMENTS

  1. I am so happy to see credit given to McCain’s first wife, who showed grace under pressure and loss. I thought of her all during his funeral when his family was getting so much attention.

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