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Why “The Sixty Second Minute” you may ask?

As a young man of thirteen years, I was commended by my Grandfather to learn and recite Rudyard Kipling’s poem, “If”. A reward of twenty-five dollars was proposed as incentive. A tidy sum of money in those days, I quickly set about learning the poem and eventually succeeded in both rote and recitation; my reward was claimed and set aside toward purchase of a new bike.

The last paragraph of Kipling’s poem includes:

“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!”

Unbeknownst to me, my Grandfather was not seeking a way for me to improve my financial well-being. He was, rather, seeking to provide a lesson in character without his obvious preaching which, as my teen years approached, I was becoming adept at ignoring. I am happy to report his plot worked.

As I grew into adulthood, I realized the value of all the premises of Kipling’s “If”, and worked to pattern my personal actions and attitudes in alignment with them. I found “If” to be a workable road map for life. To this day I am grateful for my Grandfather’s subtle prodding to prepare me for the life through which I would travel.

As I post to this blog, the title, “The Sixty Second Minute” will continue to serve to remind me that every day is a gift; a gift to be filled with industry and goodness and, most importantly, a gift so valuable that it should never be squandered in self-pity or indolence.

In honor of my Grandfather, Kenneth, O. Ward, here in its entirety is the poem, “If’, by Rudyard Kipling:

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 imposters 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 wornout 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 breath 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!