"A Sleeping Mind Is A Dreamer"

Thursday, January 14, 2010

"The Man In The Glass"

I removed several packs of 'stuff' from our safety deposit box at the bank the other day and just took time last night to sort through it. I had kept cassette tapes of phone convensations with my folks and little brother, recorded months before he died in 1972. I won't listen to them without strong stiff drink in hand. I'm a old cry baby, remember?

Also the master video recording of my son's first wedding. Egad! I won't look at that either. Not only because of the memories of two young clear-eyed people being wed, who later tore each other to bits, but because I would see what I looked like in 1985! Dark haired, no glasses, and 15 pounds lighter!

Included in the same plastic sack I had kept a 1983 "Ann Landers" column ('member her?). A poem sent in by a sister about her brother that was too late to save his own life from drugs. He wrote it, she said, just before he died. Why I kept it, who knows? How was I to know that 19 years later my own son would be 'hooked' on drugs? Anyway, it's a soul felt poem and worthy to share on here. Maybe some reader will see it as a warning and not start taking dope.

UnNamed by Request
When you get what you want in your struggle for self,
And the world makes you King for a day.
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself,
And see what That man has to say.
For it isn't your father, mother, or wife,
Whose judgement upon you must pass,
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one starring back from the glass.
Some people might think you're a straight-shooting' chum,
And call you a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass says 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 guy in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world
down the pathway of years,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears
If you've cheated the man in the glass.
I'll keep the poem, but the trash will take the rest.

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