Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

Sensual western romance. Heartwarming stories. Strong family ties.
Mary J. McCoy-Dressel
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  • Tag: Remember Red

    • Where’s the Chocolate? Where’s the Happy Birthday?

      Posted at 4:28 pm by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel, on February 28, 2012

      ~If I had chocolate on this day, it would be melted all over my fingers and lips because I’m a chocolate kind of girl. I have two sons who feel the same way. Picture the Allegheny Mountains on a clear summer day. You can see mountain ridge upon mountain ridge and the surroundings are always bathed in rich green. Autumn makes you think you’re in a whole different area when the trees change color and everything looks like an artist’s palette. But, now we’re talking about June, my birthday month. This particular summer, our youngest son escorted us because we felt he was still too young to leave at home. He complained the whole trip. Our oldest son would drive up the next day.

      ~No one mentioned my birthday. Okay, no big deal, I guess. I have this birthday every year on the same date. Couldn’t someone remember? We went about our typical first day at the cabin which meant three hours of cutting grass, dusting the furniture, and making sure there were no mouse droppings all over the kitchen counters. Remember, mountains and forest equal mice and other rodents.

      ~Saturday our oldest son would arrive in his first, unpredictable car. Still, no one mentioned my birthday. One of our rituals, and necessities, was to go to town and buy groceries. Fine, I’d buy my own birthday cake—yellow with chocolate frosting. I didn’t need candles, but I sure needed the chocolate frosting.

      ~Out of cake!

      ~I swore to remember this the next time one of these guys had a birthday. Well, it sounded good at the time. At home we put the food away and started lunch then my son pulled in the driveway. When he got out I went to meet him and when he turned to me, he handed me a big sheet cake brought all the way from Michigan and decorated especially for my birthday! Was it chocolate frosting? No, but it was a beautifully decorated cake just for MOM, and even though the frosting wasn’t chocolate, the cake batter was. So, I had birthday wishes from my guys with candles and a chocolate cake. They all knew he was bringing me a cake and they decided to keep it to themselves so I’d be surprised. To this day, I believe that was one of my most special birthdays.

      This week’s prompt was to write a 400 word memoir piece using one of the following. –wine, coffee, or chocolate. For more information and to read more pieces, visit Remember Red at Write on Edge.

      Write on Edge: RemembeRED

      Posted in Uncategorized | 6 Comments | Tagged Allegheny Mountains, birthday, chocolate, June, mary j mccoy dressel, Pennsylvania, Remember Red, summer, write on edge
    • The End of the Story, Remember Red Writing Prompt

      Posted at 9:38 am by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel, on January 24, 2012

      Write on Edge: RemembeREDRemember Red Prompt from Write on Edge. This week is PERSONIFICATION. The dictionary defines personification as “the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form.”

      This week, tell a piece of your story from the point of view of an object who bore witness– 400 words or less. For  your own prompt and link up visit: Write on Edge, Remember Red.

      ~~

      Here I sit in the cold again. I’ve seen it all –cold, heat, sun, rain, and snow. But I don’t even care. You see, I’m just an old yard pump now. Oh, in my day they depended on me for water. Really, I’m that old. After the grandma sold the farm I went with her family to the next house and they only used me for my looks. The middle son, Ernie, took care of me after awhile because his mother thought I would look nice in his flower bed. She was right, for I looked grand. Ernie painted me blue. Nice! When he pained me yellow, I felt like a ray of sunshine all year long. I sat in his flower bed for a lot of years in two different homes. The family reminisced about grandma and the farm house when they sat in the lawn chairs looking at me standing there like a yard guard.

      Then came grandsons. They played with my handle, up and down till I thought that part of me would break. Boys will be boys. Ernie would toss small fireworks in my direction at least once a year. Being a hard piece of metal I guess they thought I could take it. Wrong!

      After awhile I didn’t see Ernie much. His kids were grown and the grandkids didn’t play with my handle anymore. One day a big black car pulled into his driveway and I never saw him again. His daughter, Mary, pulled me out of the ground and I landed in her yard right beside the garage. Often she’d sit on her porch and look at me. She cried sometimes. Without warning a few years later, I didn’t see her anymore, and I was pulled out of the ground and laid on my side for a long time. One day she appeared again and took me on a long ride. Lo and behold I was stuck in another yard. Mary had a gigantic dog at that house. Whew, I’m glad it was a female! Then Mary disappeared and something bad must have happened in the house because everything got moved out. What would become of me? Almost a year later she came back for me. Happy! I’m with Mary and somehow I know she is a part of Ernie, and I know that Ernie is a part of Grandma who started it all.

      ~~~

      Thanks for stopping by to read this. This is not the same writing I started out with. My first one was not the correct prompt for the correct day. If you notice some of the comments don’t match this topic, that’s why. Hope it’s not too confusing. The title is for the other piece I wrote, but it sort of fits. And yes, the photo is the same pump now painted white. I feel like it’s a part of me.

       

      UPDATE on this reblog. Yes, the old hand pump is still in my backyard and I see it from where I’m sitting right now. It’s surrounded with snow and kind of blends in, but I know it’s there and why.

      Posted in Uncategorized | 10 Comments | Tagged daughter, grandkids, grandma, memories, personification, Remember Red, yard pump
    • Inspiration from Long Ago

      Posted at 10:43 am by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel, on August 2, 2011


      I will never forget my seventh grade Language Arts teacher, Mr. Somers. We had to write a paper, as we usually do in Language Arts. Maybe that’s why it was my favorite class. Let’s see—seventh grade, I was probably thirteen. I remember this writing. When I received the assignment back, it had red ink on it, but the red ink said, “Great imagination. You should be a writer!” I remember smiling. Mr. Somers liked my story.

      Anyway, I remember writing the surprise ending. He liked it! I never looked at him the same anymore. No longer was he a stern teacher who demanded we work our fingers to the bone. No longer was he the tormenter who made us read those crazy books that were written by people who were born before my parents. Now, I looked at him as my mentor, and each paper I wrote was written for his approval. I began enjoying the books and noticing how authors worked their words. He was the first person who ever acknowledged my dream.

      I did go on to be an author. The best part of all this? When I grew up and became a mom I began working in the same elementary school I went to. Our principal had to take a leave of absence and they needed to bring in a replacement. Do I have to tell you who it was? Through the years I knew what Mr. Somers was doing because his name was pretty high up in the ranks by this time. He was called in as acting principal! Did he remember me? Of course not.

      We worked together for awhile before I said anything to him. One day I stopped him in the hall and told him about the paper I wrote in his class in seventh grade, and how he left the note in red ink. I told him how he inspired me, and that I was indeed a writer now. I know how he felt. I do. Teachers want to leave a lasting impression on their students. I know this to be true from experience. Yes, Mr. Somers was my first inspiration/mentor to help me realize I was a writer, even at age thirteen. If you ever come across the person who inspired you, please do let them know.

      Before I retired, when I’d see a student who wanted to be a writer, I’d smile and tell them I was a published author, and how I used to write when I was a kid. I’d tell them to follow their dream and never give up. I know there are some of my former students who have moved on to high school and are pursuing their dream of being a writer. Maybe one day when I’m older and grayer, one of them will walk up to me and tell me their story. I look forward to that day.

      NOTE: It wasn’t long ago that a former student looked me up on Facebook. I met her when she was in the eighth grade. When she found out I had a couple books published, she had a million questions. Stars danced in her eyes, which reminded me of my own dancing stars at her age. She had already been writing for a long time, and I’ve read some of her stories. She’s talented.  🙂  Now, she’s in college, or out by now, and recently told me about a blog she writes and still has the dream of becoming a published author. I’m really proud of her. Cheers to you, Maddie.

      glitter-graphics.com

      This blog post was inspired from the Remember Red section of the Red Dress Club Blog Site. Please visit and find a prompt that inspires you. UPDATE: This website is called “WRITE ON EDGE” now.

      Do you have a mentor, or someone who inspired you to pursue the dream of being who you are today? Please leave a comment and tell us about it.

      Posted in #AmWriting | 4 Comments | Tagged a walk with words, inspiration, language arts, mary j mccoy, mary j mccoy dressel, mentor, red dress club, Remember Red, teacher, writing
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