The Man in the Glass

In this episode - The Man in the Glass . . .

By – Dale Wimbrow (published 1934)

When you get what you want in your struggle for self

And the world makes you king for a day,

Just go to the mirror and look at yourself

And see what That man has to say.

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

Whose judgment upon you must pass.

The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life

Is the one staring back from the glass.

Some people may think you a straight-shootin’ chum

And call you a wonderful guy,

But the man in the glass says you’re only 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 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.

Peter Dale Wimbrow, better known as Dale Wimbrow, was an American author, radio personality, and songwriter best known for his poem "The Man in the Glass." (March 6, 1895 – January 26, 1954).

Wimbrow's early career was in music and radio. Under his name and as Old Pete Daley of Whaleysville, he became known for his records and radio performances with orchestras. His credits include several recordings in the 1920s, in which he performed as the solo vocalist and often as his own accompanist (on the ukulele).

The majority of those songs were his creations, and he began turning to songwriting almost exclusively in the latter part of the decade. Perhaps his best-known musical composition was the 1930 "Accordion Joe" jazz tune. Played by Duke Ellington's band, it appeared that same year as the soundtrack to an animated short film of the same name starring Betty Boop. The tune has appeared several times in Duke Ellington compilation albums.

Wimbrow wrote “The Guy in the Glass” for publication in The American Magazine in 1934. It is often mistitled as The Man In The Glass. The poem became a popular clipping passed between people, and the author's credit was often dropped, leading to inquiries about the author in newspapers as early as 1938. Ann Landers wrongly attributed the poem to an anonymous drug abuse victim in her column on October 5, 1983. After receiving multiple letters claiming different authorship, she later acknowledged on December 5, 1983, that the true author was Wimbrow.

Wimbrow's most enduring legacy is this inspirational poem, "The Man in the Glass," which still resonates with readers due to its message about self-reflection, personal integrity, and honesty.

I’m Patrick Ball. Thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Don Hanley said…

A great quote and I'd like to hear from you as YOU look in the Glass. And this is broad enough even the Trumper can look in the glass and think he is wonderful, but....

November 18, 2023 at 10:02 AM

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️ In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...

The Friday Morning Pause

In this episode, The Friday Morning Pause: When My Brother’s Bookshelf Called Me to Stillness We live in a world allergic to stillness. Our mornings begin mid-sprint—thumbs scrolling before our eyes even open. The impulse to jump into the digital chaos is immediate. But sometimes, stillness finds you . It was early Friday morning. We’d arrived late the night before, stepping into the cool air before the day turned hot. Half-awake, I reached for my phone—emails, headlines, social feeds waiting like a morning buffet of distraction. We were in Cuba. No Wi-Fi. No 5G. No password. Just stillness, disguised as inconvenience. Instead, I caught sight of something unexpected: a small stack of books on my brother’s TV shelf. My brother and his wife are powered by perpetual motion. They are the definition of overscheduled and overstimulated. Yet there it was: Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday, quietly mocking my scrolling habit. The irony was perfect. I put my phone down—a small, delibe...

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...

On The Fly

Search This Blog