Pat Ritter. Books

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Awesome Stories - OMR-One Minute Read
The Antique Vase
Joseph Banks, the botanist, sailed from his motherland with Captain Cook on the ‘Endeavour’ to discover Australia in 1770. Before departing, his father said presenting Joseph with an antique vase, ‘this has been in our family for generation; keep it to hold a specimen’.
When he boarded the ‘Endeavour’ he stored the vase in a safe place to not fracture or break. To hold such a prize presented from his father overwhelmed his feelings of love and devotion.
On arrival at Botany Bay he discovered various specimens of vegetation, caused Joseph to select one particular specimen to place in the antique vase. This selection he named ‘mulga’, an aboriginal name, taken from the scent of the bush surrounding the area.
On his return to his quarters, he placed a branch of ‘mulga’ in the antique vase. His chest swelled with pride and devotion to his family for presenting him with a family treasure.
On their return to the motherland Joseph couldn’t wait to show his father the antique vase; moreso, the branch of ‘mulga’ tree. His father spoke how proud of his son’s discovery.
Joseph Banks continued on other expeditions, not with Captain Cook but in charge of his own ship.
In early 1800 the ship Banks Captained sunk in the middle of the Indian Ocean along with the antique vase and ‘mulga’ branch from Australia; this being the last resting place of the antique vase.
For another century this antique vase sat at the bottom of the Indian Ocean until discovered by a party of men searching for hidden treasure. The antique vase was finally returned to England and eventually to the Banks family.
In 1999 whilst attending a wake for my late mother-in-law, her brother said to me, ‘you are now the rightful owner of the antique vase.’ My look was one of astonishment.
‘What antique vase?’ I asked. His story of how the antique vase had been in the family before the discovery of Australia, together being on the bottom of the Indian Ocean for a century until returned to the family, was a story of amazement and intrigue.
This antique vase now sits gathering dust on top of a cupboard in my home. If only the antique vase could talk, imagine what a story it could tell.

Word count: 387.
Stories Written at Pomona Writers Group, 2012

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Greatest OMR Stories' -

What Will You Be Doing In The Next War Daddy.

Wars have been fought between countries for as long as history tells us. In Australian history, our major wars Boer War, World War 1, World War 11. In grade 8 I asked the teacher why we have wars. Her reply, ‘to control inflation of the economy.’ At the time, I didn’t understand her meaning.
When I turned seventeen years-old the government of the day joined other countries to fight in Vietnam. Conscription of males born on a certain date were ordered to join this conflict. Lucky my date of birth didn’t fall into this category. Many of my friends and workmates ordered to fight.
My thoughts went out to these heroes who were conscripted to battle in a country which had no connection with Australia. Thinking back to the question I ask my teacher in grade 8 certain reflections of her answer puzzled my mind.
Australian population grew annually at a steady rate. Inflation grew accordingly. Why did Australia want to become involved in this conflict? Studying the years between each conflict showed every twenty-five years a world war happened. Many lost their lives, many more wounded, many never recovering from their time on the battlefront.
Suddenly the penny dropped to understand the answer my grade 8 teacher gave. With so many Australians killed in these conflicts, thus reduced the population of our country controlled inflation. These brave heroes gave their life for others to survive.
If a war happened today, countries wouldn’t need to worry about inflation because they’d be no one alive. To end World War 11 an Atomic Bomb used to stop the Japanese. Imagine the type of bomb to stop the world in today’s scientific age. We’d be acting out those Hollywood movies when the world ended with a big bang.
What will you be doing in the next war Daddy if asked by my children would be to sit tight at Brooloo waiting for the final hours of doom to arrive. In today’s world of media, instant messages across the globe within seconds reach my computer at Brooloo, I’d sit and wait for the world to fight their own battles until some country raised their flag in defeat.
According to my twenty-five-year conflict to control inflation, more than seventy years have passed since the ending of World War 11. Yes, inflation has risen. Another World War would surely control inflation for the many who would lose their lives in today’s military warfare of bombs never seen before.
Why can’t people live in peace, resolve their conflicts without wars? Greed, power, money. Why should any country on earth possess an Armory so strong to threaten their neighbours? Surely these questions should be resolved.
Personally, I’d hate to witness a war currently of my life. Born after World War 11, living through the conflict of Vietnam, other conflicts especially the present overseas worry me. I’d hate to think if my grandchildren were conscripted into battle.
To answer this topic ‘What Will You Be Doing In the Next War Daddy?’ Hopefully country leaders will resolve their difference to live in peace. I’ll still be living in peace at Brooloo.
Word count: 537
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That's Not Funny

Advertised on channel seven is a programme 'Little Big Shots' soon to be shown about young children performing unbelievable acts in front of an audience. Jacob Jorgensen compares this show. In one scene, he is speaking with a male child who makes a comment causing the audience to 'laugh. Without hesitation, the child turns to the audience says, ‘that’s not funny’. My ribs hurt from 'laughing.
What caused me to indulge in this fit of 'laughter? Obviously, the manner how the child delivered the words ‘that’s not funny’ to the audience with such innocence not understanding what he said would cause others to 'laugh with him. What caused me to 'laugh so much to cause my ribs to ache from these words? Again, I think the words spoken by the child showed such innocence, straight facial features, clearly not understanding his expression.
Come to think about my actions I do apologise for 'laughing because I should’ve shown more restraint to not poke fun at another person, especially a young child who showed his innocence. Why do we do these things.
When I think back to the incident; the child’s action and words ‘that’s not funny’ still causes a stir in my stomach to make my ribs ache. Human nature I suppose. I don’t really have an answer only my ignorance.
These words wouldn’t have been written into the script. You wouldn’t think for the child to say them after looking at the audience. Natural talent shown by the young child. His reply innocent probable not realising what he said or how he said these words would’ve had such an impact on the audience as well as myself.
'Laughter is great for our soul. If we 'laugh more than cry our minds fill with joy instead of sadness, our lives would improve. I have a friend who is a 'laugh instructor. Susan travels the country conducting 'laughter session with companies for their employees.
When she started this programme a decade ago she approached me with the idea to become a instructor. At the time, I thought she needed treatment.
She proved me wrong.
On a Sunday afternoon at Coolum Beach Susan perform a 'laughter session. I didn’t participate.
Others whom performed this session followed Susan’s instructions, 'laughing, 'laughing with more 'laughter. How proud to have these people 'laugh from the bottom of their stomach to throw back their heads in 'laughter.
Susan’s success with her passion motivated me to work harder at my writing. If Susan’s success mirrored my writing, my success would follow. Since first meeting Susan helping her with the business of 'laughter she has succeeded to be one of the best in the business on 'laughter.
She is in demand for her services.
That’s not funny because if Susan can make others 'laugh plus the actions of this small child on the up and coming television show, I can put aside my inhabitations to 'laugh with them.

Word count: 496
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'Greatest OMR Stories'

The Family Plot

Technology provides us with instant information. I have cousins living in America who I’ve never met only on Facebook. One of these cousins established ‘The Ritter Family’ Group on Facebook. Since this happened many of the Ritter family have posted photographs, stories, information to be read only by members of this group.
Fascinating to view photographs of my grandmother’s grandmother dating back to early 1800. Other photographs with description of Ritter relatives also posted by different family members. The Family Plot started back in 1800’s in Prussia. My family in those times left their home country. Seven brothers, descendants of the Ritter family.
Four brothers migrated to America whilst three took up residents in Australia. My great, great Grandfather, Nicholas Ritter, started at Goulburn in New South Wales. My Grandfather, Peter Ritter, left his family at Goulburn travelled to Cunnamulla around 1880.
Immediate Ritter family originated from this time in Cunnamulla. Grandfather Peter Ritter meet and married Daisy Sharpe, also a resident of Cunnamulla. Together they raised eleven children. My father being a twin and second eldest. Ritter family left Cunnamulla around 1935 settling in Spring Hill, Brisbane.
On my mother’s side of the family, my grandmother, born in Cunnamulla in 1903. Her father, Joe Ryan, a shearer, instigated ‘The Great Shearers Strike in 1891’ in Cunnamulla in the hope of gaining improved working conditions for the shearers. The strike failed. My great Grandmother lost her life whilst giving birth to the youngest in the family. My grandmother ten years old at the time.
With the death of his wife my great Grandfather, Joe Ryan, gave his four daughters away ‘like a litter of pups’ to the townsfolk in Cunnamulla. My grandmother never found her youngest sister Nellie, taken by relatives.
My grandmother taken in by the owner of the drapery store who was harsh and cruel.
At fourteen my grandmother left Cunnamulla to work on a sheep property as a house maid. She returned to Cunnamulla four years later. At this time, World War 1 ended, she met my grandfather. Soon married to have a family of seven daughters. My mother being the second eldest.
Both families were close. Around 1935 both families left Cunnamulla to settle in Brisbane. Ritter family settling in Spring Hill whilst my mother’s family lived at Ascot. Shortly after World War 11 my parents married.
A year later I was born.
The Family Plot has given me total respect for the hardships each family endured from their early days beginning at Goulburn until the time I remember the many visits to my grandmother’s home in Spring Hill. Such great memories. With the introduction of Facebook, I can travel back in time to witness the various photographs, stories especially of my ancestor’s history which go deep into the past.
Hope you have enjoyed reading ‘The Family Plot’ as much I must collect the information and write the story.
Word count: 492
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'Awesome - OMR - Stories' -

The Dawn Service.

This is the first time I attended The Dawn Service. It was at Imbil and from the large gathering almost half of the surrounding community attended. This day left a huge sorrow in my heart of reasons why I haven’t attended one before.
A couple of times a year I visit my elderly aunt. During my last visit she handed me a folder, ‘you may be interested to read about your grandfather. This is a record of his army service.’ It was the first time I’d seen his army service records.
My grandfather, Thomas Daniel Wilson number 2752 was a private attached to 49 Infantry Battalion. He enlisted on 4th July 1916 and soon afterwards left Australian shores. On 7th April 1917 he was wounded in action whilst flighting in France. After rehabilitation in England he returned to France where he fought to the end of the war.
Up until the time my aunt gave this folder I didn’t know anything about the history of where my grandfather fought and thank goodness he survived because had he been fatally injured I wouldn’t be here to share this story with you. At the time of joining the armed forces he was 21 years old. His whole life had been in the bush and gladly he used his bush instincts to survive. I can’t imagine what he went through at such a tender age.
This Anzac Day is the first time I’ve thought about my grandfather. I decided to attend the dawn service at Imbil. I did it in memory of him. At the time of his death I was two years old and therefore didn’t have the opportunity to have him as a grandfather only identifying him in photographs. Little did I realise after sixty years I’ve found solace and comfort in knowing my grandfather fought in World War 1.
When the last post was herald by the bugler my heart swelled with joy and a tear trickled down my face. My thoughts at the time were of my grandfather fighting the enemy on France’s shores, across the other side of the world. I am a lucky person to have him as my grandfather and feel proud he represented and fought for his Queen and country.
During the service, a poem was read of a grandson asking his grandfather his story of the war. Listening to the words put me in vision of asking my own grandfather about the war and like the words of the poem most of the story would have been hidden and only the good of man would have been told.
Thank goodness we had soldiers like my grandfather who fought to protect their country and to know his grandchildren would benefit from those days he fought the enemy in France to give us the freedom we all now enjoy.
Word count: 479
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'Briliant OMR Stories'

The Anthill

One of the funniest stories I’d ever heard was told by my uncle at my sister’s wedding. Uncle Vivian presented his talk at the wedding reception and spoke on behalf of the family.
To the embarrassment of my sister, and those who knew her most of her life, related to the story Uncle Vivian unfolded. It began when she was a small child, aged around five or six years old.
My sister always had a built-in personality, one which if she was angry, exploded like a volcano spitting volumes of lava onto anyone nearby. Her temper placed her in more trouble at any one time and; behold the person who was in the firing line.
On this occasion she visited our grandparents who lived on a cattle and sheep property in far western Queensland. We children rode in the back of an old Land Rover utility. Our job was to tell our grandfather if we sighted a kangaroo by hitting the roof of the cabin of the vehicle. Once we sighted one, our grandfather stopped the vehicle and shot the kangaroo. The kangaroo was thrown into the rear utility section with us kids. Further along my grandfather stopped the vehicle, dragged the dead kangaroo from the rear of the Land Rover to skin it.
At the time my uncle shared this story, his voice carried me back to when he described. Among the bush were hundreds and hundreds of mounds standing like sentinels. They were made from earth standing almost a similar height to a child six years old.
My uncle described how my sister needed to go to the toilet. My grandfather told her to go behind one of these sentinels so she wouldn’t be embarrassed.
Everyone at the reception was waiting for my uncle’s response to share with them ‘what happened next’. His sudden burst of 'laughter with the words, ‘you should have seen her, she raced back to the vehicle with her pants down around her ankles, screaming she’d been attacked’.
My sister went behind an ‘anthill’. In her haste to finish what she was doing was attacked by meat ants from the colony of ants at the ‘anthill’.
Obviously she was embarrassed when this story was told at her wedding reception but she couldn’t believe our uncle would share the story with her wedding guests.

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