The main paradox of our lives is that small wages are the hardest to earn.

In the summer at the window you clearly understand: children are too loud flowers of life.

Two stories that are unexpectedly connected.



The first story.



Many years ago, Chicago actually belonged to Al Capone. A brutal gangster with a scar on his face powerfully wrapped the City of Winds with a stinking web of smuggling alcohol, prostitution and custom murders. He had a lawyer named “Famous Eddie.” Eddie was not just Al Capone’s lawyer. Eddie was a fucking good lawyer!



It was thanks to his talent and maneuverability that Big El escaped prison for a long time. Capone paid generously for it. Not only huge money, but also special dividends. Eddie and his family lived in an enclosed estate with servants and all the amenities available at the time. The building was so large that it occupied an entire neighborhood. Eddie lived the cheerful life of a Chicago gangster and did not give importance to the horrors that occurred under his side.



And yet, Eddie had a weak spot – a son he adored. His son had everything: clothes, cars and excellent education. Rejection was nothing. The price did not matter. Eddie, despite his ties with the mafia, tried to get the boy to distinguish truth from evil. Eddie wanted his son to be better than himself. But with all his wealth, he could not give his son his good name and personal positive example.



At some point, the glorious Eddie decided to redeem all the evil committed. He decided to surrender to the authorities and tell the world the truth about Al Capone, the Man with the Scars. He wanted to clean up his polluted name and give his son at least some sort of honor. In order to do so, he had to testify in court against the mafia. He knew he would pay a lot. But he gave testimony. A year later, the life of the Glorious Eddie was broken by a machine gun line on a remote street in Chicago. Yes, he gave his son the greatest gift, but paid for it at the highest price.



Police found in his pockets brushes, a crucifixion on a medalion and a verse cut out of the newspaper:

“Once the hours of life stop and no one can predict.

when the hands are lowered - in the early or late hour.

Now is the only time that belongs to you.

Live, love and work with desire. Do not believe time.

Because the clock can stop so soon.”



The second story



Many heroes were born by the Second World War. One of them was Captain Butch O’Hara. He was a combat pilot based on the Lexington aircraft carrier in the South Pacific. One day his squadron flew on a mission. After taking off, Butch determined by indications of instruments that someone from the staff forgot to fill up his fuel tank. The fuel in the tank was not enough to successfully complete the task and return to the aircraft carrier. The squadron commander ordered Butch to turn onto the ship. With his heart shaken, he left the aircraft and headed back to the navy.



During the flight he saw something from which his blood froze in his veins. The squadron of Japanese combat aircraft went on full flight to the U.S. Navy. American planes were already far away, and the ships were completely defenseless.



Butch did not have time to return to his squadron and bring the planes back in time to rescue the fleet. He also failed to warn the ships of an imminent danger. There was only one way out: it had to force the Japanese to deviate from the course. Forgetting about his own safety, he plunged into the squadron of Japanese aircraft. For them, the sudden attack of the American was a complete surprise. Fifty-caliber guns on his wings released an attacking line of fire. Butch rushed into the Japanese squadron and sharply pulled the plane up, crushing the orderly Japanese combat formation. He watered the enemy with fire from all his weapons until the ammunition was exhausted. But he continued to attack fearlessly. He tirelessly revolved around the Japanese planes, trying to get on the tarantula from the tail side, then from the wings side. The enemy’s overwhelmed air squadron decided to turn and departed in a different direction. Butch O’Hara and his destroyed aircraft were hardly able to reach the deck of the aircraft carrier.



Upon arrival, he was supposed to have made a full report on what had happened in the air. A video camera on the front gun illustrated the report. She recorded all the crazy courage with which Butch defended his fleet. In the battle he destroyed five enemy vehicles. It happened on February 20, 1942. Butch became the first naval as of World War II and the first naval pilot to receive the highest award "For Combat Merit".



A year later, Butch O’Hara was killed in an air battle. He was 29 years old. His hometown did not allow the memory of the war hero to dissolve in time. If you’re traveling, then maybe one day you’ll have to visit Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport, so named in honor of the great warrior.



Now you will ask, well, and what connects these stories to each other?

Oh, it is simple. Butch O’Hara was the son of the Famous Eddie.

The bottle of Taroun. The inscription reads: “Made by an old recipe.”
The following: "Composition: purified water, flavor, identical to natural (E265), sodium benzoate, dye(E231)".