The Norwalk Hour – 19 Oct 1929 By Winifred Black.
They’ve Renamed that «Little Old Man» Who Sits Back and Tells You How and Why, and It’s a Good Name, too. There is a name for him at last.
The little man who lives in the back of your head and tells you what to do and what not to do, when to get up, even though you are fast asleep, and tells you who’s your friend and who’s your enemy.
Mazlin, the newspaper man, has named him the «Kibitzer.» What, you don’t know what a Kibitzer is? What do you play—poker or bridge? Or is it checkers? Or maybe you like to go around the golf links now and again, and perhaps you don’t mind taking a racket in a tennis game.
The «Kibitzer» is always among those present, no matter what you play, he stands behind you and says, there, why did you play that trump—or why didn’t you start for the king row! And when the game is over he tells you just what you should have done and what you shouldn’t have done and why you lost the
He never plays himself. He is always too tired, or he has an engagement or something. But he is never too tired nor too busy to stand around and tell other people what to do. Now, have you ever noticed the «little man» in the back of your head?
You never see him, but you hear him talking all the time: —Don’t branch out this year, it will be such a sorry and you know how tired you get.
‘Look out for those new people you are meeting, some of them are sure to be sharks, think of the real estate deal that winning stranger got you into ten years ago.
«Beware of people who flatter you, they are just trying to get on your blind tide.
»What’s the matter with Jonas, he is always so grumpy when you see him, he must have a knife up his sleeve, look out for him.
«Those in-laws of yours are different from your folks, they eat different food, they wear different clothes, they talk different talk, there must be something wrong about them.
«Don’t be so enthusiastic; It is bad luck.
«Don’t be so tickled to death over a party, or a picnic, or a new dress, or the way the baby laughs when you speak to him, or the sight of the last yellow rose on the vine, just giving you a smile before it stops blooming till next Summer.
«Don’t laugh so much–don’t sing so many songs, it’s a bad sign to sing before breakfast.
«Don’t trust everybody you see.
«Hold on to your money—hold on to your heart, hold on to your friendship»—that’s the Kibitzer.
Some people call him prudence and some call him Common Sense. I never had any use for him.
He takes all the joy out of life. What if he save you a dollar or so now and then? What are you going to buy with your dollar when you save it—youth, beauty, friendship, love, wisdom—these things are not in the market. Down with the Kibitzer, say I, to the woods with him once and for all; let’s live while we are living; let’s eat and drink and laugh and love, and sing and work—and let the old Kibitzer grumble. What do you say?