When things Go wrong, as They Sometimes will...
Growing up my parents weren’t particularly literary. Though, my father would read us stories , tell us riddles and was known to write the occasional poem– still does into his 80’s.
However, there was one poem that stood out most in my youth.
“Don’t Quit” by Edgar A. Guest was hung in a mauve plastic frame in our kitchen, next to the closet with the dark wood door and brass knob with a mysterious musty smell, that hid the hot water heater, and a shelf with boxes of cereal.
“Don’t Quit” was eye level between this door, and the open threshold you had pass through from the kitchen into the living room, which led into and out of the home.
This was the central passage, as the kitchen was the center room of the home.
“Don’t Quit” was in view of my mother at all times, as she sat at her counter perch, telephone in hand, notes from calls, strewn with doodles, names, facts, thoughts, and her ashtray with cigerattes, bread box full of important mail not to be lost.
No matter what she was moving through in her secret world beyond mothering or within mothering, one glance up and over, and there was the title in a bold font “Don’t Quit”, which begins “When things go wrong as they sometimes do/ and the road your trudging seems all uphill.”
At the time, perhaps, the author was unknown, as the poem read –anonymous, which besides the poem itself, was a wonder to me. The thought of writing a poem, and not attributing your name, was a perplexing puzzle that I danced with.
To not claim your creation, even at a young age was a wonder to me. In a sense this brought a form of sorrow, or lament, on one hand; on the other there was a feeling of freedom there, too. The ability to write anything, publish it, and remain unknown was remarkable to me, even at the early ages of reading.
I toyed with the idea of writing under a pseudonym for years, as the notion of being unknown was favored.
Here, though, I thought why not put your name? The poem felt pivotal, even at a young age. The message was clear, the usefulness of the poem applicable again and again.
Often, daily, really I would glance at this poem. Stopping to pause read, consider, as I was on my way between rooms of the house, and rooms of my life.
Memorized at a young age, still the thought to pause and read again would overtake me. I took time to consider this poem anew, in relation to my life. What road was I trudging now? How close might I be to victory?
As I grew older the poem felt simpler, perhaps, unrefined, as I was a poet, and well read, and studied. I had found other poets, and poems to love.
Yet, again, it’s impact was still potent, as it was so ingrained this ethos “Don’t Quit” that as a young adult I would shake my head, and nod, whisper a silent Ok, I won’t quit, embellished with a sigh.
Still, nothing could take away the kernel of what this poem had instilled as a child. This poem meant, means more to me than most.
I realized, too, later how much this poem meant to my mother.
Of all the stories she shared, more were kept under wraps, until I was much older, that is in regards to my mother’s life.
I asked my mother once about the poem when I was child, inquiring why it was on the wall.
Her answer, simple, perfect, easy was : It’s my favorite poem.
Done.
Or was it?
There was more there, as there always is. Simple words, or answers are not always so, right?
Amongst the stories untold in her mothering, her personal life, the essence of her lived life and struggles was young drug addiction, kept secret and hidden away from her children, until we were much older. There were other losses, too, unimaginable, which I will spare here for you, dear reader.
These stories, or elements of her life, were not shared, perhaps, to protect us. Perhaps, as an act of the ego. Perhaps, a function of shame. Some of this, or all.
This poem “Don’t Quit” became a quiet ethos of my youth, then, teen years, and has grown a firmament into my adulthood.
At the time, I did not know my mother’s struggle, as I was a small child reading these lines again and again to the point of memorization by grade 2.
I would imagine the twists and turns spoken of in the poem.
My earliest metaphors– were found here. in The victor’s cup, the golden grown.
I wonder, know now that this was her ethos, too. My mother never gave up. She was a woman of sheer determination. She may not has been graceful about it, neither have I. Yet, here we are. Except she is gone.
Yet, this poem remains. Amongst the belongings left behind, was the mauve frame with this poem.
There was a tumultuous end between us.
So much unresolved in the lived life; so much healed beyond the veil, between a mother and daughter. Spiritual work to be done. Digging, reconciling, releasing, and freeing the self from the binds of familial trauma; hers and mine.
Amen.
Part of the blessing of the spiritual gifts, I suppose.
Of that which is lost or does not remain… her small act of placing a framed poem in her home that she could not speak towards in full, yet, was able to say so muchL “It’s my favorite poem”, has instilled a pathway, a way forward in every hard moment.
There have been so many moments in my life, where surely I wanted to give up, throw the towel in and say I’m done. & I assure you I have said so words many a day. Yes.
In those palpable moments of full resignation come reigning two things that are a constant: Prayer & “Don’t Quit.”
That is in those true deep, beckoning, bellowing prayer, connected, soul prayer straight to the top DEAR GOD! moments.
And when in waiting, in what can feel like true agony, as only being human can bring (ami right? right) we must not quit. We must hold on; find the way forward.
In the waiting, is the hard learning which is often, if not nearly always, part the journey, the process of learning, shedding, transforming, even breaking to become renewed.
In what “seems” like God is delaying his response… (when truly it is not, really it is not.. thump thump thump…) we are growing, striving, beckoning to become, sometimes on our knees, sometimes with our hands face palmed, or shoulders slummed, perhaps with the tears rolling, we are in the process of our evolution.
I am more than grateful my mother along her journey came to know, cherish, and place this poem in the central threshold of our home, the family kitchen. For this poem, remains a testament for life; for all those who have tried to strive, and haven’t we all.
Read the poem. Be with it.
Below I have placed some writing prompts for you to consider. I have also created a few items in case this poem speaks to you so that you, too, can have this poem with you, or near you, perhaps in your kitchen, during those bellowing moments, when you might just need to read these lines:
“Don’t give up though the pace seems slow/ you might succeed with another blow.”
Don't Quit
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
when the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
when the funds are low and the debts are high,
and you want to smile but you have to sigh,
when care is pressing you down a bit –
rest if you must, but don’t you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns.
As everyone of us sometimes learns.
And many a fellow turns about
when he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow –
you may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than it seems
to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
when he might have captured the victor’s cup;
and he learned too late when the night came down,
how close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out –
the silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
and when you never can tell how close you are,
it may be near when it seems afar;
so stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit –
it’s when things seem worst, you must not quit.
Love this poem? Grab A Printable PDF!
Grab your own “Don’t Quit” by Edgar A. Guest motivational poem poster! Print at home or sent to print. Be sure to visit the shop for other “Don’t Quit” products, and more!
"don't Quit" Strong Woman Mug
The perfect motivational mug for morning coffee or to keep at your desk as you are grinding through tasks & goals! Don’t Quit! Keep going! You got this.
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"Don't Quit" Writing Prompts
Includes the “Don’t Quit” poem, 6 writing prompts, and blank writing pages just for you!
