Writing My Stories

  

Here are Two Stories BOTH TRUE – and worth reading. They were received in a recent email–not sure of the original author…

  STORY NUMBER  ONE

    Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago.  Capone wasn’t famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.

      Capone had a lawyer nicknamed “Easy Eddie.” He was Capone’s lawyer for a good reason.  Eddie was very good!  In fact, Eddie’s skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.

     To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well.  Not only was the money big, but Eddie got special dividends, as well.  For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day.  The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block.

      Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him. 

      Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly.  Eddie saw to it that his young son had clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing was withheld.   Price was no object.

      And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong.  Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was.

      Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he couldn’t give his son; he couldn’t pass on a good name or a good example.

      One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to rectify wrongs he had done.

      He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al “Scarface” Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance of integrity.  To do this, he would have to testify against The Mob, and he knew that the cost would be great.  So, he testified.

      Within the year, Easy Eddie’s life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street.  But in his eyes, he had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he could ever pay.  Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion, and a poem clipped from a magazine.

      The poem read:

      “The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour.  Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time.  For the clock may soon be still.” 

STORY NUMBER  TWO

      World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant Commander Butch O’Hare.

      He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.

      One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission.  After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank.

      He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship.

      His flight leader told him to return to the carrier.  Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet.

      As he was returning to the mother ship, he saw something that turned his blood cold; a squadron of Japanese aircraft was speeding its way toward the American fleet.

      The American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all but defenseless.  He couldn’t reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet.  Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger.  There was only one thing to do.  He must somehow divert them from the fleet.

      Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes.  Wing-mounted 50 caliber’s blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another.  Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally spent. 

      Undaunted, he continued the assault.  He dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible, rendering them unfit to fly.

      Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction.

      Deeply relieved, Butch O’Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier.

      Upon arrival, he reported in and related the event surrounding his return.  The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale.  It showed the extent of Butch’s daring attempt to protect his fleet.  He had, in fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft. This took place on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch became the Navy’s first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the Medal of Honor.

      A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29.  His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today, O’Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great man.

      So, the next time you find yourself at O’Hare International, give some thought to visiting Butch’s memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of Honor.  It’s located between Terminals 1 and 2.

      SO WHAT DO THESE TWO STORIES HAVE TO DO WITH EACH OTHER?

      Butch O’Hare was “Easy Eddie’s” son.

For more about my stories go to: www.WritingMyStories.com

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Here is another interesting article I got in an email. I keep looking for more stories for inspiration. When we look around we can see opportunities to help others everywhere. I don’t know the original author and would appreciate any information you may have about it. Write your comments below. MDP

THE OLD MAN!

As I came out of the supermarket that sunny day, pushing my cart of groceries towards my car, I saw an old man with the hood of his car up and a lady sitting inside the car, with the door open.

The old man was looking at the engine. I put my groceries away in my car and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away…

I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm, walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too and took a few steps towards him.

I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something. The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand new Cadillac Escalade and then turn back to the old man and I heard him yell at the old gentleman saying, “You shouldn’t even be allowed to drive a car at your age.” And then with a wave of his hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.

He smiled sheepishly and quietly nodded his head. I looked under the hood myself and knew that whatever the problem was, it was beyond me. Looking around I saw a gas station up the road and told the old man that I would be right back… I drove to the station

And went inside and saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them and related the problem the old man had with his car and offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him.

For some reason I had gone about two blocks when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time. The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name………‘Congressional Medal of Honor Society.’

I sat there motionless looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together, because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage and an honor to have been in his presence.

Remember, OLD men like him gave you FREEDOM for America …Thanks to those who served….& those who supported them.

America is not at war. The U.S. Military is at war. America is at the Mall. If you don’t stand behind our troops, PLEASE feel free to stand in front of them! Remember, Freedom isn’t Free, thousands have paid the price so you can enjoy what you have today.

www.WritingMyStories.com

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This is taken from an email I got…I’m not sure who the original author was. I believe it is valuable to put on this site. Read it and follow the suggestions. If anyone knows who wrote the original, send us a comment and we will include a credit with the post.

“While we are here, we might as well dance”

Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven’t thought about it, don’t have it on their schedule, didn’t know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

I got to thinking one day about all those people on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I’ve tried to be a little more flexible.

How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn’t suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word ‘refrigeration’ mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched ‘Jeopardy’ on television?

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said , ‘How about going to lunch in a half hour?’ She would gas up and stammer, ‘I can’t. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain’ And my personal favorite: ‘It’s Monday.’ She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.

Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect!

We’ll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained. We’ll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We’ll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of ‘I’m going to,’ ‘I plan on,’ and ‘Someday, when things are settled down a bit.’

When anyone calls my ’seize the moment’ friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you’re ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Roller blades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.

My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It’s just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker.. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.
Now..go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to…not something on your SHOULD DO list.. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, ‘We’ll do it tomorrow.’ And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say ‘Hi’?

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift….Thrown away… Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over. Show your friends and family how much you care.

“Life may not be the party we hoped for…but while we are here, we might as well dance!”

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