My Mom

MOMS FAVORITE POEM:

It Couldn't Be Done

Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

Mom was born on Groundhogs Day in 1924. She was one of 6 children born to James O'Connor and Therese Burns O'Connor. Mom was a wonderful loving energetic artistic person. She loved dancing and theater. She was a dedicated teacher and earned her degree in 1968 while raising her 6 children as a single mother after Dad died. She taught until she was in her 70's and moved to Raleigh, NC in Oct. 2005 to be near her beloved daughters. Mom passed away in her sleep from pneumonia on Nov. 4, 2005. I miss her terribly.