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The Man in the Glass

I have always loved this poem written by my Uncle in the 1950's.

It is suburb advice that applies to us all. Uncle Chick fought in WWII

and was put on the front lines. When he came home he was a bit of

a mess emotionally. A loud noise would cause him to instinctively dive

behind the couch or whatever was close by for protection.

He smoked and drank heavily as a result in attempt to calm his nerves.

He stood 6'4 and died of lung cancer.

The Man in the Glass

When the goal has been reached in our struggle for self

And the world makes you king for a day,

Just look into the mirror that rests on the shelf

And listen to what that man has to say.

For it isn’t your father, your mother or wife

Who judgment upon you must pass,

The fellow whose verdict counts most in life

Is the one staring back from the glass.

Some people may think you a straight shooting chum

And call you a wonderful guy,

But the man in the glass will say you’re a bum

If you can’t look him straight in the eye.

He’s the fellow to please, never mind all the rest

For he’s with you clear up to the end

And you’ve passed your most dangerous difficult test

If the man in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of life

And get pats on the back as you pass

But your final reward will be heartaches and strife

If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.

By Segard Anthony “Chick” Cline

Photo of Uncle Chick with my Father



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