The following text, the author of which is unfortunately lost in an
endless loop of email forwards, is to me a powerful message about life and
purpose. I hope readers of this blog
will agree and that anyone who knows the source will add it in a comment below:
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. But, 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."
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