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