An old and close friend posted something today and I thought that I would share it, it is definitely something to stop and actually think about before responding to. Remember, the world is not always black and what.
“Here’s an idea….. for one day… lets stop talking about how wrong the other political/religious/whatever side is. Believe it or not, the world’s problems are not the fault of your opponent and you do not have the answers.”
Until last night I have never had a Valentine, that’s right NEVER. Always been single on V-Day, never had a date on V-Day, etc. My luck with women is known to be profoundly bad….until now. Seems I have found a woman that actually cares about me and wants to be with me, I’m still in a state of shock over this as it is a very foreign feeling and concept.
Anyway, I wanted to make Valentines Day nice for us. Now this is no easy feat when your significant other doesn’t have a set in stone work schedule, and only get’s to know what she is working less than a week in advance. So on Monday I found out that my girlfriend had to work util at least 7:30 on Valentine’s day. Which means that by the time she gets home, spends some time with her daughters, gets cleaned up, etc….she is at my place some time around 8:30 or 9:00. Every restaurant in this town, except for Dennys, closes at 9:00. I am getting really sick of going to Dennys on our date nights, let alone Valentine’s Day. So my solution? I’ll bbq!
I came home from work, cleaned up the apartment, did dishes, started prepping food, marinating steaks, and then cleaned myself up all nice and dressed all spiffy. I wanted to look and smell good for my girl after all. About 8:30 I had just put the steaks on the grill, potatoes were almost done, veggies were steaming, and the garlic break was warming up, (sound good?) when my beautiful girlfriend arrived. I won’t tell you what she was wearing, but I will tell you it distracted my cooking efforts, a lot.
After pouring her a drink I went out to flip the steaks. As I walked out the back door movement startled me, and I see a sparrow alight from the back porch light and start flying straight up in to the roof overhang, about 6 inches from my wide open back door. Not understanding why this bird is flying around at night but seeing what is about to transpire, I lunged to the back door to shut it. Alas, I was too late. The sparrow flew right in to my apartment, and that is when the hijinks began. My girlfriend and I spent about 20 minutes trying to shoo this stupid bird out of one of the open doors in my apartment. Only to have it panic and keep flying around, bashing its little birdy head in to the ceiling. Finally it became too tired to fly, or else it gave itself a concussion by repeatedly hitting its head on the walls, ceiling, book case, X-Box, clean dishes. So I was able to scoop it up and deposit in in the tree out front. It wasn’t there this morning, so maybe it’s okay. Either that or the mangy stray cat that was hanging around last night got a Valentine’s Day meal.
After depositing the sparrow outside…I realized the steaks were still on the grill! lucky enough I must have turned the grill heat all the way down by reflex when the sparrow startled me. Because the burners where turned down, and the steaks were not totally ruined.
Stupid bird.
I thought this was interesting, so I decided to publish it on here.
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 reads:
“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.
As Paul Harvey would say “And now you know…the rest of the story.”
Not long ago I had an odd dream. I have been mulling it over in my head, and I think I may have it figured out, but I am not totally sure.
In my dream I was in prison, slated for execution. However this was not a normal prison, it was set up kind of like the Matrix. Everyone was in a rack, in a coma like state, but hooked up to some sort of hood. The hood fed your consciousness in to a VR prison. People on death row were given the privilege of dying how ever they wanted to in the VR world, just as long as they died. Death in the VR world would make your body die in the real world.
Well in my dream the VR system broke down, and all the inmates found themselves awake, in a prison devoid of guards, and a world going through some sort of apocolyptic event. I had a vague sense that it was something along the lines of The Road, but with more death. My dream shifted to three of us banding together to explore/survive the outside world. I remember that one of the inmates and I had a family bond, he may have in fact been my grandpa, but I am not sure. I do know that I somehow ended up with one of my grandfathers old revolvers.
We were packing supplies on to some sort of sled or wagon contraption, not really sure what it was. When the third inmate, out of no where, killed the one that may have been my grandfather. That inmate and I fought, trying to kill one another, but not succeeding. We eventually called a truce, and decided to still team up so that we might survive the outside world.
My dream them shifted to us exploring an old shed like structure. I asked the inmate what his way to die in the vr world was. When he did not answer, I turned around and he was gone. I walked outside the shed and went over to the sled thingy, when out of no where he attacked me with a knife, stabbing me in the lower back. I pulled out the old revolver and emptied it in to his face. At that point in the dream I was looking down on myself, and watched as I slumped over the sled thing, and laughed as I died.
My perspective changed to that of a prison guard, standing next to a bank of controls and monitors. I was watching my own death through the monitor. I looked at a female prison guard sitting at the controls and asked her “what was that all about?” She looked at me and said, “he died how he wanted to, and I think he figured it out at the end.”
After that, I woke up,
desertskys 