family issues | Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

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#MFRWauthor Week 2~Childhood Memories #WritersLife

Posted at 8:01 am by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel, on January 11, 2019

Brother Sister Blog Post Week 2, Mary J McCoy-Dressel, author western romance #MFRWauthor

2019 Week 2: Childhood Memories – A Walk Back in Time.

Most of us have childhood memories. Some good. Some bad. Some make us laugh. Some make us cry, but we have them. This week’s Marketing for Romance Writers 52-Week Blog Challenge topic gives us a chance to talk about them. #MFRWauthor Link to 2017 Childhood Memory post.

I’m walking back in time today with a bittersweet memory of my oldest brother, Bob. I’m a middle child between two brothers with a nine-year span between me and the oldest. A brother born between us passed away as an infant, and I have a brother three years younger than me. I don’t mention my bad-to-the-bone troublemaking older brother often, but that isn’t why I don’t talk about him. I didn’t know him. My dad sent him away when I was only five or six.

My dad wanted to get him out of Detroit and away from the gang-like life he wanted to live. Instead of dealing with him, he let my stern grandma straighten him out in her little village where she lived on a lake in Northern Michigan. The last thing my brother needed was a small town to control, and a grandmother who couldn’t handle him. Via hearsay, he’d found the bad of the bad to hang with while living there until he joined the Army.

My memory isn’t about the bad in him. It’s about him being my big brother, my protector, and the day Dad sent him away. I can’t remember the goings-on before we piled out the door to go to Michigan Central Station. It’s possible they never told me this would be forever, but I figured it out.

My memory is about saying good-bye to my brother and walking through the train station holding his hand. He got on the train. Just like that, we left, but I kept pulling my mom or dad’s hand, lagging back, and yelling that we had to wait for Bob. Then we left. If one of them hadn’t had my hand, I might’ve run back to grab him off the train or get on and go with him.

Brian W. Schaller [FAL], from Wikimedia Commons

I kept looking back, looking back, looking back, and crying for him. Later, when we got home, I closed the kitchen door and sat on the basement step and cried and cried, which was unusual for me because I’d never go to the basement at night alone, let alone close the door and sit in the dark. I wouldn’t eat. I missed him so. My heart had broken over losing my big brother.

I grew up without my oldest brother, but I’ll cut it off by saying we stayed in contact throughout my teen and adult life. He’d had a rough life and lived to be a senior adult though died at a young age by today’s standards. I’m the one who has his ashes. Oddly, he had made his home in Northern Michigan near to where he’d been sent to live with our grandma.

This old train station has quite a history. Are you interested in knowing if this magnificent building is still standing? You’ll find updated information at the link below.

From Dan Austin at Historic Detroit.Org:

For 75 years, the depot shipped Detroiters off to war, brought them home, took them on vacation and sent them off to visit Grandma.

Oh, if they only knew…

Thank you for reading.

This is a blog hop, baby. We have new participants this year! What happens when they walk back in time to share a childhood memory? Let’s find out HERE.