My father gave this to me when I was twelve and I just passed it on to
my twelve year old son.

We could all use it.



If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

By Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936).

Regards,

Tom Watson
http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1/

On Mar 16, 9:54*pm, Tom Watson wrote:
My father gave this to me when I was twelve and I just passed it on to
my twelve year old son.

We could all use it.

We could. Something about feeling comfortable with yourself. Know your
strengths and weaknesses.
Never be ashamed to ask a question.
Never.

I was really lucky to be in a house that was built in 1888 for the
most part of my formative years. My father was an accountant with a
substantial practice, that included many local trades. I watched
eavestrough being soldered in place with a goofy looking burner. I
watched the glazing guy put in windows and using a turd of putty, then
with a putty knife, draw a pass, leaving a perfect 45-degree bead. I
was amazed by those guys. I watched a cabinet maker make a head-board
and then spray painted it in his shop. I loved that place. It was down
the street from I lived. This guy would give me a handful of nails to
straighten out. I will never know if he needed those or not... maybe
he just wanted to keep me interested and show me what his craft was
really all about. My grandfather on my mother's side was a carpenter.
I have some of his pieces.

I never stood a chance.